Connie
It’s crazy that I’m anxious to come to work today. It’s not that I don’t love my job as a nurse, but lately, I’ve had a reason—patient in room 303. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I talk to him daily, but there’s just one big problem. He’s in a coma.
He came here three weeks ago, beaten, bruised, stabbed, and shot. He was found just inside an alley a few blocks from the hospital. By all rights, he should be dead. The detectives were confounded on this case. His fingerprints came back without a hit. The police thought it was in their best interests not to give it much attention. It went on the Chicago Police blotter, but there’s been no other mention. A preliminary report hit newspapers online, but it was basic and that was with the intention to keep the danger off him. There was no sort of identification on him and over the course of his stay, no one came to look for him.
Every day I hoped a woman wouldn’t come to claim him as hers. And at the same time, I was livid that no one did.
As I get ready for work, I check my appearance hoping that I don’t come off messy or needy to see my patient. Who does that? Who falls for a man they’ve never spoken to? Because that’s what I’ve done, and at this point, it’s more than obvious to all around.
I jump into my car, making my way to the hospital. It seems like the longest drive even though I only live about thirty minutes away. The moment I arrive I’m directed to his floor to work with several other patients there. I did my best to avoid sneaking a peek on him. I take my time, wanting to treat everyone with the patience they deserve. I just finished the report for the last one when Marla comes dashing to the nurse's station.
She stares at me with wide eyes and a smile that’s so unlike her. “Connie! Hurry, girl! He’s finally awake, and I think he’s looking for you.”
“What?” She can only be talking about one person. There’s no one else in a coma.
She drags me up from my seat with her hand under my armpit. It’s aggressive, so not who Marla is. I laugh nervously. Marla rolls her eyes at me, then continues. “He asked about the woman’s voice he’s been hearing. He knows it’s none of us, so it has to be you,” she squeals, smiling like a fool. She’s a straight-laced person who never shows an ounce of levity, so this is such a surprise.
My heart’s pounding out of control and I’m trying to calm it down, but it’s not working. Some of the nurses and doctors have teased me over the past few weeks. They say I’ve fallen in love with him because he doesn’t tell me to be quiet while he watches the game.
I rush to the room, straightening my favorite cotton candy pink scrubs and hair frantically before I step into the room. Our eyes meet as he stares at the door, waiting for my arrival. The butterflies in my stomach are going wild. He’s been here for twenty-two days to be exact. His dark hair had been shaved down because of the injuries and swelling, and we only trimmed his beard once a week. He smiles at me and I know he’s waiting for me to talk, but I don’t know what to say. It’s as if I’ve lost my tongue, brain, everything. This man has been through hell and back, and yet I'm panting like a bitch in heat. He looks good for what he’s gone through. He continues to stare, forcing me to say something.
“I’m so happy to see you’ve woken up, sir,” I stutter, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. It was more of a nervous motion because I’d just fixed it before I darted over to his room. He’s handsome and my heart flutters like I’m in high school again. I can’t stop blushing.
“It’s you. You’re the voice in my head. What’s your name? For that matter, what’s mine?” He smiles as if he’s playing, but I can tell he surely doesn’t have a clue. His smile falters as he reveals the confusion he’s facing.
“You don’t know who you are?” I’m by his side in an instant, taking his hand and stroking it. I can’t believe he doesn’t remember who he is. Well, I can, considering the physical damage to his head.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t know. You can’t remember anything?” I question, feeling hurt for him and his situation, my heart breaking at his reality. He has to be so confused.
“Just your voice.” He takes his other hand and covers mine, trapping it between his. There go those feelings again. My body’s freaking out as I keep a straight face and remember my position as a nurse.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” I promise. No has come looking for him so maybe he’s supposed to be missing.
“Thank you, my angel, Now, tell me your name.” He squeezes my hand, looking determined.
“It’s Connie,” I say, smiling at him. I shouldn’t be flirting. This is so wrong, but I’m unable to stop myself.
“Wow, you’re more beautiful than I dreamed,” he murmurs, staring up at me with a new light in his eyes. I smile again, shaking my head.
“You’ve had serious injuries,” I argue.
“My mind is addled, but my eyesight seems perfectly fine.” I’m so screwed. I go into nurse mode again and force myself to ignore his blatant flirtation. It’s then that our social worker is called to speak with him. I go back to working with my other patients as doctors and numerous professionals are in and out of his room. I tell myself I’ll stop in before I go home.