Chapter Two
The next seven minutes were a little blurry. Wanda put me in a booth and held a dishtowel over my leg, which was doing little to deter the steady pulsing of blood from my thigh. I had never been afraid of blood but have to confess that this much blood was disturbing.
I looked away from Wanda’s face and could see about twenty others staring down at me. I found Wanda’s face again and asked simply, “Melissa?”
“Lauren, it’s fine. Rob already got her. She’s right here.” I felt someone squeeze my hand hard and looked over to see Melissa.
Melissa asked, “What were you thinking?”
“I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I got a weird vibe from the guy when he walked in. I wanted to keep you away from him.” Her face was difficult to read. I couldn’t tell if she was angry or shocked.
“Like that guy that brought me flowers and you knew he was married?” The man she was asking about had been a regular customer and flirted with Melissa every time he came in. It seemed harmless initially. When he brought her flowers and wanted to take her to a movie, I knew I had to say something. I had a feeling about him, that something wasn’t right, and warned her ahead of time. She’d never asked me how I knew, I just knew. I hadn’t given it much thought since.
“Yeah, like that.”
She mumbled something I couldn’t understand.
I felt the pressure on my leg change and saw that Rob was pressing the blood soaked dishtowel to my leg, smiling a weird half smile. Very uncharacteristic. He’s the most charismatic person on our team, and I had never seen him smile without his pearly teeth beaming through. “The police and paramedics are here. Wanda’s opening the door for them. You’re going to be fine.” His reassurance didn’t sound that confident.
I smiled back at him. I was concerned about the amount of blood I saw. I could feel my pants were soaked. I wasn’t in any real pain, but a little self-conscious with all the eyes staring at me. “Anything to get out of filling napkin holders, right?”
Rob’s half smile turned whole as his typical jovial self responded, “Next time you don’t want to fill napkin holders, just say something. I’d much rather do those than have you get shot and me stuck here keeping you from bleeding to death.”
“Cool, will you do the salt and pepper shakers, too, or do I have to get knifed to get out of that?” Full blown laughter erupted from all sides.
“Lauren, you’re crazy. I love you, girlfriend. Looks like the white horsemen are here. You be safe.” He didn’t loosen his pressure on my leg, but he got out of the way so the paramedics could get closer.
An older, blue shirted paramedic leaned over me and lifted the blood soaked dishtowel. “Hi, what’s your name?” The lack of pressure over my leg encouraged the pain, which I hadn’t felt a second ago, to spread. I was thankful that he only looked at the wound briefly, and then pressed hard with the towel again.
“Lauren.”
“Do you know what happened to you?” His tone wasn’t urgent. It was what you would expect from a doctor doing a routine physical.
“Well, not to state the obvious, but some lunatic shot me by mistake. He was aiming at a kid ticked off about a toy.” I paused for a second, “I didn’t know I got shot right away.”
He didn’t register any excitement at this revelation, and, in the same monotone voice asked, “Lauren, does your leg hurt?”
“No, not really. It feels hot, but it doesn’t hurt. Is that strange?” It didn’t really occur to me to be worried that it didn’t hurt, but as I lay there, I started to get concerned for the first time. My mind started doing cartwheels; even paper cuts hurt, why doesn’t this gun shot? What’s wrong with me? Am I dying?
The paramedic didn’t answer me. “Is it weird that it doesn’t hurt? It should hurt, right?”
“Lauren, I need to finish examining you. You’ll be fine. I need you to remain calm. You may be going into shock. You are obviously lucid, you’re aware of your environment, and you have feeling in your leg. Be thankful that the pain hasn’t hit you yet.” His voice was the same monotone but had a soothing tinge this time.
I took a deep breath and was as cooperative as possible. I could feel them wrapping something tightly over my wound, checking my heart, and then the second paramedic said, “Okay, let’s get her on the gurney and into the bus. Saint Joe’s is ready for her; Doc Gracie’s on tonight.” His voice was a bit deeper than the first paramedic’s and was filled with real concern.
The second paramedic turned, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked like he couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than I was. He had dark brown hair, a warm smile with perfect teeth, and a rocking tan. It’s difficult to describe a man this way, but he was really - beautiful. When I looked at his eyes, my heart literally stopped.
I knew it stopped because I heard alarm in his voice when he answered, “She’s got an irregular heartbeat. We need to go now!”
They lifted the gurney up with my body strapped on. Being suspended on a gurney isn’t anything I’d ever experienced, and as they ran beside it, it felt a little like flying. Then we were in the ambulance, and the handsome paramedic was hooking me up to all sorts of wires while the older paramedic slammed the doors and went up front to drive.
I looked up at the handsome paramedic’s face again. “What’s your name?”
“Max, Max Meyer.” His eyes were looking directly into mine. My heart skipped a beat again and an alarm went off in the ambulance. He looked at the monitor. “Lauren, do you feel any different?” He looked directly at me instead of at the monitor, and I felt my heart beating out of control. I shook my head no.
He picked up a radio, in a calm and collected voice, “We’ve got an inbound, twenty-one year old Caucasian female, name, Lauren Davis. Gunshot wound to the left leg: bullet appears to be lodged in the femur. The patient’s vitals are unstable; she’s coherent but is experiencing irregular heartbeats, significant blood loss. Please advise.” Max released the button on the microphone. I heard an answer full of static, but couldn’t make out what the voice on the other side of the radio said. Max must have understood because he responded, “Roger Saint Joe, ETA four minutes.”
Max put his hand over mine, “Are you cold?”
Those eyes - they were a light green, just a few shades darker than sea foam with a hint of grey. There were brown specs in the green as if a fairy put brown sparkles in to make them more dynamic. I knew those eyes. I couldn’t help but stare. I took his hand and squeezed it hard, holding on as if my life depended on it.
“Lauren, I know you can hear me. Are you cold?” I started shaking uncontrollably. I kept my death grip on his hand but couldn’t form a response.
“Lauren,” he nearly shouted at me this time, no longer the kind soothing tone, now an urgent angry voice. He reached for the microphone again.
I stopped him with my free hand. “I’m . . .not . . .cold,” pausing at each word through chattering teeth. I felt an extreme case of déjà vu coming on. I’d seen his eyes in a dream every night since I was in high school. It couldn’t be. I had to be hallucinating. Didn’t I?
I didn’t want to sound absurd, but I had to ask. “M-M-Max, do I look f-f-familiar to you?”
His puzzled expression was obvious, “Maybe, I can’t place from where.” He reached for a blanket and spread it over my shaking body, then leaned back to me, now holding both my hands.
It was just a dream; there’s no way it could be real. I couldn’t possibly tell him unless I wanted to end up in a padded cell after they removed the bullet. “You look a little familiar, but I just moved here.” He was trying to humor me; I could hear it, but his grip on my hands didn’t loosen.
Without thinking, I blurted out, “Will you stay with me?”
My heartbeat fluctuated again, and his monitor blared to life. This
time he released my hands and grabbed the microphone again. “St Joe, this is Bus forty-two, twenty-one year old female requires O positive, significant blood loss, irregular heartbeat, one minute out.” Another static filled response that I couldn’t understand and Max replied, “Roger Saint Joe, forty-two out.”
He continued to look at the monitors. He had ignored my question. “Max, will you stay with me?”
His smile was nervous. “I won’t be able to stay with you, but I’ll stop by after my shift in the morning to check on you.” I nodded fervently. I could tell he was trying to lighten my mood when he added, “Now, if I’m going to go to all the trouble of coming in on my own time to see you, you need to hold on. Calm yourself down, understand?”
What a strange thing to say. Hold on. Was he serious? I wondered just how much blood had I lost? I wasn’t feeling that strange, but my body was still shaking like crazy. I had attributed it to being so close to him, the man from my dreams who introduced himself as my destiny. Did that really happen? Maybe I had lost too much blood.
I felt the warmth from his hands, while mine felt cold and strangely stiff. I knew I had to say something; I had to tell him. I couldn’t be dying, right? I wasn’t certain of much of anything in my life, but Max had haunted my dreams for so long I couldn’t let him go. I looked into those amazing green eyes, “I really want you to stay with me. Please don’t go. Stay.”
Max squeezed both my hands very hard, leaning only a few inches away from my face, “I won’t leave your side until they take you to surgery. The doctor that’s waiting for you is awesome. He’ll take good care of you. I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can.” His eyes were so sincere, I could no longer hold back the wave of tears begging to be released. I closed my eyes and held his hands as tight as I could, then realized I couldn’t open my eyes.
I wasn’t in the ambulance or strapped to a gurney anymore. I was swimming in a deep sea of black.
The dream that I had tried for years to convince myself was a fairy tale began to replay in my mind while I swam in that black sea. I could hear his voice through my dream. . . “I am your destiny . . . I’m not a figment of your imagination . . . our physical paths have not yet crossed . . . we chose this life together before we were born . . . We need, more than anything else in this entire world, to meet and work together so that we both may be complete . . . You must learn and let courage be your guide. It will lead you to me . . .”
I don’t know how many times this dream had replayed in my mind - thousands maybe. Each time I experienced the dream, I was more aware that it was real. I had finally met my destiny . . . Max.
Slowly, groggily, I tired of swimming in the black sea. I could see the water lightening just above me. I swam toward the surface of the water, away from the darkness. Just as I was ready to break through the surface of the water and to the air above, I had to shade my eyes from the bright sun. The sun seemed to somehow come more into focus. I pressed my eyes firmly to keep them shut. I could feel the light on me.
My awareness began to intensify, as I realized it was not the sun, but a bright overhead light. I felt someone holding my hand, stroking my knuckles lightly. I squeezed their hand back and the gentle stroking stopped. I opened my eyes abruptly and winced from the lights.