There were doors running along both sides of me. As I started to walk down the hallway, I passed a few. They were all closed, but for some reason, I knew they weren’t locked. Every door looked identical—white, like the walls, with only the thin outline of the doors’ edges and the shiny brass knobs setting them apart from the walls. There were no signs, numbers, or words on any of the doors, and no way to distinguish one door from the next.
Wondering what or where the doors led me to, I reached for the doorknob of the door that was closest to me. But I didn’t turn the knob. I felt hesitant to open the door. Now that I stood only inches from the doorframe, my ears picked up a faint sound over the steady buzzing of the florescent lights. It was coming from the other side of the door. I inched closer and pressed my ears gently against the white paint of the door. The sound was louder now. It was a soft steady beeping.
What is that? I wondered as I pressed my ear harder against the door. I thought about reaching for the doorknob again and opening the door to find out, but I stopped myself. It was almost as if some force held me back, like an invisible barrier that prevented me from moving forward. My curiosity about the beeping on the other side of the door wasn’t enough to overcome this barrier.
I was just about to move away from the door and walk away when the sound of a man’s voice from the other side of the door stopped me.
“It’s all my fault that she’s lying here.”
Even though his voice was muffled by the door between us, I could hear him clearly. There was something familiar about this voice, almost like I’d heard it before. Something stirred inside me—was it a memory? No, it was a feeling. Warmth and happiness, like home. I tried to think through the fog that filled my thoughts, to try to figure out why I was suddenly feeling nostalgic.
“I could have prevented this,” the voice continued. “I should have caught up to her faster and forced her to stop before...” The man trailed off, never finishing the rest of the sentence.
I wasn’t sure what or who he was talking about, but from the anguish that seemed to seep into his every word, my interest was piqued. I decided to stay by the door a little longer before moving on and leaned my ear against the door a little more.
“Sweetie, please don’t think like that,” an elderly female voice responded. “This isn’t your fault. You did the best you could.”
“No, not my best.” The man’s voice was strained and I wondered why he sounded so mad. He can’t be mad at this woman, can he?
“Betty’s right,” an elderly male voice said. “I know you’re upset, but don’t beat yourself up like this. You need to stay strong for her. None of us really know what happened earlier today or why she left the house so abruptly. We were in the kitchen and didn’t even know she left the house until we heard her cellphone ring non-stop in the living room. We knew she had been upstairs at the time so we called out to her to tell her that her phone was ringing. When she didn’t respond, I went to go look for her. That’s when I saw the front door wide open and her car gone.”
“I should have been there for her,” the first voice I’d heard said in frustration. “I saw her face before she…she looked really upset. She looked like she’d been crying.”
I could tell by the way he talked about this woman that he loved and cared deeply for her. I wondered what had happened to her. Maybe this man had an argument with her. Maybe he’d made her cry and she left him. I shook my head and sympathized with him. If only she was here to hear the pain and regret in his voice, she would certainly forgive him and take him back, wouldn’t she?
“Poor child,” the woman said with a sigh. “I really wish I knew what made her so upset. I just don’t know what I’d do if anything were to happen to her. I told Judy I’d take care of her daughter.” The woman’s last few words came out like sobs.
“She’ll be okay, Betty,” the older man reassured. “She’s always been so strong. She’ll pull through this. Let’s all just stay positive. The doctor said they’re probably moving her out of the ICU tonight and into one of the regular hospital rooms. From the scans, her head injuries aren’t as severe as the doctors first thought.”
“But why isn’t she waking up, then?” the woman asked. I could hear the fear in her voice.
“Honey, remember what the doctors said. It’s just a matter of time,” the older man reassured. “She’s responding to stimuli, so she’s not comatose. Right now we just have to wait until she wakes up. It’s up to her now, and Chloe’s a fighter. I believe in her, don’t you?”