Chapter 11

I used to be like you, all smiley and shit.

-Cobie’s secret thoughts

Cobie

My eyes opened, and the first thing I saw was the white ceiling. The next thing I saw was the bright white IV pole at my bedside.

The next thing I became aware of was when I let my eyes trail down the length of the IV pole, hesitating slightly at the monitor that was there before they continued on down until something else caught my eye.

My mouth fell open.

Then the pain made itself known, and I moaned.

Dante, who was at my bedside sitting straight up in his chair but asleep, shot up like I’d stabbed him in the thigh.

“Cobie?”

The concern in his voice had my eyes filling with tears—though that might’ve been due to the pain as well. I wasn’t really sure at that point.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked.

And what the hell? My chest felt like it was on fire.

“I….” He looked at me in concern. “Are you okay?”

I tried to nod my head yes but it came out as a moan. “It hurts.”

He curled my hand around something, and then said, “This is the pain pump. They explained it to you when they brought you in from recovery, do you remember?”

No, no, I didn’t remember a damn thing. The last thing I remembered was having my breasts drawn on with a magic marker.

I couldn’t function for a few minutes as the pain started to consume me. What felt like an hour later, awareness slowly started to seep back into my brain, and I opened my eyes that I was unaware I’d closed.

“Better?”

I swallowed, then croaked, “Yeah.”

He looked like he was about to pull his hair out.

“Good.”

I must’ve looked confused, because he gave me a half-assed smile as he said, “I’m here because they called me to let me know how you were doing about halfway through your surgery.”

My brows lifted. “Ummm,” I hesitated. “They weren’t supposed to call you at all.”

He nodded. “I had a feeling that was what happened. But I’m here now. For another hour or so, anyway. Mary goes to bed around seven, and I left her with my brother.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So, I said nothing.

“I’m glad you decided to fight.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but decided nothing I could say was going to matter at this point.

I was fighting…but maybe not as hard as I could’ve been.

***

Eight days later

“All right,” the nurse who’d just redressed my chest said. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call. The next doctor visit has already been scheduled, right?”

I nodded.

“Okay, good. Do you know what you need to do from here?”

I nodded again.

“Great.”

I looked at all the flowers from my co-workers that dotted the ledges of my hospital room.

The only bouquet of flowers that was delivered personally was the small wildflower mix that was in a hastily-grabbed Texaco cup—and those were from Dante.

The rest were from my co-workers, and for the most part, I was happy that they hadn’t totally forgotten about me. But neither did they take the time over the last few days to come and see how I was doing. That kind of hurt, especially since I was only one floor below them. It wouldn’t have taken them much time at all to come to my room for a quick visit, but none of them had done so.

Which was for the best, I guess.

If they’d have come, then I would’ve had to talk to them.

Talking to them at work was hard enough. Talking to them after I’d had surgery? Yeah, that would’ve been torture.

“The only ones I want are in that Texaco cup.” I indicated to the wildflowers, and the nurse went and got them, handing them to me.

I carefully reached forward, realizing rather quickly after my surgery that sudden movements weren’t my friends, and settled the cup on my lap.

They weren’t much. In fact, they looked like they were picked off the side of the road, but they meant the most to me.

I’d never gotten flowers before. Not like this, where they actually meant something to me.

Using the pillow that the hospital gave me to clutch to my no-longer-existing breasts, I gripped the cup and looked at my lap as the nurse pushed me down to the lower level.

“I never thought to ask,” the nurse hesitated. “But you do have a ride, correct?”

I winced. The reason they’d kept me in the hospital as long as they had was because I didn’t have anyone to help me at home. And, since they had the open room, the doctor had ordered me to stay.

However, today they’d deemed me well enough to navigate the world on my own. Lucky me.

I nodded at the nurse but didn’t make eye contact. “I do.”

The taxi was bright yellow and front and center as we passed through the double doors.

“The taxi.” I indicated where I wanted to go.

The nurse frowned. “Do you have help?”

I wanted to laugh at that.

I hadn’t had help in so long that I probably wouldn’t know what to do with it if I did have it.

“Yep,” I lied. “They’re stuck at the airport, though. They’ll be meeting me at home.”

The lie felt bitter on my tongue, and I wanted to growl in annoyance at myself.

I hated lying. It never solved anything.

Except for this one time, anyway.

“Okay,” the nurse replied skeptically. “Let me know if you need help. I’m sure we can find you someone.”

Yeah, right.

I ignored her offer of help, even though I probably shouldn’t have, but I was determined to do it all myself.

I was ready to freakin’ cry after just getting myself settled in the cab.

By the time I got home and through my front door, the pain was washing over me in waves and I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes.

I spent the next hour in the foyer, sitting on the bench, as I tried to gather the strength I’d need to move to the kitchen so I could take a pain pill.

At least I’d thought ahead and had the hospital fill it for me.

Thank God.

The thought of doing anything other than lying there on the foyer bench was a foreign phenomenon to me. I decided that I’d just lay there for a little bit until the pain eased enough for me to make my way to the kitchen.

Once it kicked it, well, then I’d attempt to make it up the stairs.

I slowly laid myself down, one millimeter at a time until I was fully on my back, closed my eyes, and prayed for the pain to calm.