At that point, sense, logic, and sanity abandoned ship. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.
“I want to see him,” I demanded.
“That’s not practical,” Missy began, but Frankie cut her off.
“No, it’s not practical or perhaps the best advised situation, but she’s been waiting in that chair for almost seventy-two hours straight. Do what you need to do to get her in there to see him.” Frankie insisted. I’d never been more grateful for anyone ever in my entire life.
Missy gave me a look like I would regret having Frankie step in for me—but I didn’t care. I was willing to pay any price to see with my own eyes that he was alive. Any price at all.
It took us the better part of two hours for me to be ready enough for Missy’s satisfaction. I had to be scrubbed and sanitized and specially dressed. But I took it all patiently. He was alive.
Finally, they let me in. I’d been warned that he wouldn’t look like he normally did, that with the injuries and swelling, and some of the work that they had to do to keep him alive—but I still didn’t care. He couldn’t sit up, or really smile, but he did raise a couple of fingers in hello.
Frankie reappeared, after being strangely absent during my scrubbing and sanitizing, and showed ushered me forward so I could take his unbound hand. “He can’t really talk,” She told me, but we’ve been working on blink once for yes, twice for no. It’s been working pretty well for us thus far.”
“Hey, sweetie,” I whispered, giving his hand a little squeeze. “You know who I am, right?”
He blinked once, and I was so glad that we at least still had that. “We’ll get through this, okay?”
He blinked once more, and my heart flew.