“Gina!” the man screamed, sounding as if he was in pain.
Chris climbed atop the bed, straddling the woman and doing compressions on her chest. Abby pressed herself back into the wall, absorbed by the scene around her. She felt like she shouldn’t be there, but it seemed impossible to just walk out.
She scooted along the wall toward the door as the despondent man paced frantically, pulling at his hair and crying. He stopped at the wall and Abby found herself right next to him. Her heart pounded as she stood, frozen.
As the woman was whisked down the hallway on the rolling bed, the man stared after her, his mouth open. His face was wet with tears, and Abby’s heart twisted with sadness for him. He looked older than her, though not by much.
As the silence grew, Abby looked around, wondering who was going to come help this man. He was all alone, and he looked terrified.
As he burst into a fresh round of tears and covered his face with his hands, she couldn’t help reaching an arm around his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “Is there anything I can do? Someone I can call for you?”
He shook his head and sniffed loudly.
“Her parents live in Arizona,” he said. “We were just driving home from a party and this truck hit us out of nowhere. I didn’t have a drink all night. God…Gina.”
Abby squeezed her arm around his shoulders and he turned toward her for a hug. She hugged him back, grateful she could do something to help ease his pain. Her face got pressed into his flannel shirt, which had a strong smell of smoke.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked, rubbing her palm against his back.
“I should go in there and see how she is,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Abby walked beside him as he followed the path the bed had been wheeled down. They both looked around, confused by the many doors and curtains.
“There’s a desk around the corner. We can ask there,” she said, leading the way.
“Where’s my wife?” he asked a nurse who was typing on a computer.
“What’s her name?” she asked, distracted with her work.
“Gina Foust,” he said, choking back tears.
“She’s in the operating room. You can wait right down the hall there, and the doctor will let you know what’s going on as soon as he can.”
“Can’t I go in with her?”
“No, I’m sorry, you can’t.”
He stepped back, looking dumbfounded and lost. Abby put an arm around his shoulders, leading him to the waiting room. He sighed as he sank into a padded chair, and Abby wondered if she should stay or go.
“We’ve only been married two years,” the man said, shaking his head.
“What’s your name?” Abby asked, trying to distract him.
“Brian.”
She sat down next to him and he put his head in his hands, crying quietly.
“She’s my whole world,” he said through his tears. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Abby pressed a hand to his back, wishing she knew what to say. It felt like time stopped as they sat, waiting. She was relieved when Chris walked into the room. His green scrubs were splattered with blood, and Abby thought of how not just her work, but nearly everyone’s, paled in comparison to what he did. He gave her a quick look of surprise, but said nothing.
As Chris approached, Brian reached for Abby’s hand, crushing it with his grip. The tension coming from him was palpable. She pressed her other hand on top of his, offering silent reassurance.
“Mr. Foust,” Chris said, pulling up a chair to sit in front of him.
“Is my wife okay?” he asked, panicked. Chris met his eyes.
“Your wife sustained very serious head injuries. I’m very sorry to tell you that she didn’t make it,” Chris said, laying a hand on Brian’s knee.
The wail that escaped Brian clutched at Abby’s heart. Tears fell down her cheeks as she stared at Chris, shocked.
“No, no, no! Not Gina,” Brian cried.
“Mr. Foust, would you like to see her?” Chris asked gently. Abby looked at him, horrified. Surely it would only compound Brian’s grief to see his wife like that.
“Yes,” Brian said, wiping his cheeks clear and sounding calmer. “I want to see her.”
A woman Abby hadn’t seen before stepped toward them from the back of the room.
“This is Darlene,” Chris said. “She’s a social worker here, and she’s going to take you to see your wife.”
“Are you a family member?” Darlene, a soft-spoken, dark-skinned woman, asked Abby.
“Actually, she’s with me,” Chris said.
“I just didn’t want him to be alone,” Abby explained, embarrassed. Brian gave her a weak smile.