One Day Soon (7 page)

Dr. Howell’s eyes widened in amusement. “Yossarian? What an interesting name.”

“It’s from Catch-22. John Yossarian, the fighter pilot,” I filled in.

Dr. Howell gave me a strange look, his eyebrows rising. “Yes, I’ve read the book. How do you know he’s named after the character? Did the detective tell you that?”

I felt my cheeks flame hot and I had to look away from the doctor’s penetrating gaze. “It was just a guess. I’ve never heard of another Yossarian, have you?” I answered lamely.

“No, I suppose I haven’t.”

I kept my mouth closed unless further incriminating myself.

“So did the detective have any other information about our friend?”

I looked down at the notes I had taken during the angry phone call, though I didn’t need to read them to remember what they said.

“Only that they aren’t going to do much to find the person who beat him up. To them, he’s just another homeless guy.” I sounded angry and bitter. I didn’t bother trying to hide it.

Dr. Howell made a noise of disgust. “That’s horrible. How can they look at someone who was hurt the way Mr. Frazier was and not want to seek justice. There’s something wrong with this world when we overlook the ones that need our help the most.”

“Exactly,” I agreed weakly.

“I was just about to check on him. Why don’t you come with me? We can discuss his prognosis a little bit more. I’m hoping he will wake up soon. I’ll order another CAT scan for this afternoon if he doesn’t.”

“I’ve started the paperwork for public assistance to cover his care while he’s here. I’ll have it submitted by the end of the day,” I let the doctor know.

Dr. Howell headed towards room 102, but I didn’t follow right away.

The thought of going back into that room and seeing the once vibrant Yoss small and defeated in that bed…

“Are you coming, Imogen?”

I hesitated.

“Yes, sorry,” I said after a beat, following the doctor into Yoss’s hospital room.

Dr. Howell looked down at the chart and made a few notes. “We’re still waiting on the results of the blood panels, until then I’ve ordered a course of antibiotics to be on the safe side and given the severity of his injuries, the likelihood for infection is high.”

The doctor pulled back the curtain and we walked over to Yoss’s bed. Dr. Howell looked at the various monitors and I looked down at the man who had once been the boy I loved.

The boy I loved.

“Tomorrow you can tell me why you don’t have any options.”

My savior. My protector.

He had helped me when he didn’t have to.

He had taken care of me. He had made sure I was warm. Fed. That I had a place to lay my head at night.

Even when he couldn’t keep himself safe, he made sure that I had been. He put me first. Always.

God, I had missed him.

I had forced myself to forget how much.

“He looks pretty rough, but that swelling should go down in a few days. He’ll have a colorful face for a while though.” Dr. Howell pulled down the hospital gown and placed the stethoscope on Yoss’s chest. I noticed the scars. Lots of them.

His scars had scared me in the beginning. I had been frightened to touch them. I had learned they were a part of him. The ugly part. The part I wished he would change.

There were more of them now. A lot more. Some of them so large and so deep I didn’t want to think how he had gotten them.

“I’m scared to touch you,” he whispered, his lips quivering, his green eyes full.

My blood whooshed noisily in my ears and I felt a little lightheaded. We were so close, but I wanted to be closer.

So did he. But I could tell that the idea terrified him.

“Don’t be,” I murmured, reaching out and placing my palm over his heart. He was beautiful. And right now, in this moment, he was mine.

“There’s a lot of old scar tissue and badly healed breaks in his hands and arms. I hope he wakes up soon so he can tell us what happened to him.” Dr. Howell looped the stethoscope around his neck and made a few last notes in the chart. He reached down and patted Yoss’s arm gently. “We’ll take care of you. You’re safe here,” the older doctor promised the motionless man.

I shivered.

“You’re safe, Imi.”

His remembered voice rang in my ears.

“Are you coming, Imogen?” Dr. Howell said, breaking me free of my thoughts.

“I’m going to finish my assessment. I’ll stop by your office later and we can discuss his…case,” I replied.

After Dr. Howell left, I forced myself to sit again by his side. I stared long and hard at his face, trying to find the person I used to know somewhere beneath the cuts and bruises.

He was so much thinner than he used to be. I carefully turned his arm over and ran a thumb along smooth, unblemished skin, relieved there were no track marks.

Someone had shaved part of his head when they had stitched up his scalp, but I could still see some of the black hair I used to love running my fingers through.

His nose was swollen from the altercation that brought him here.

His cheeks were hollow and his skin had a yellow hue. I didn’t like that at all. There were a few things that could cause jaundice and none of them good.

I picked up his hand and held it lightly in mine. His were rough and calloused. The knuckles were busted and two of them were clearly broken

“It’s been a long time,” I said softly. I stared at his unresponsive face and felt a sinking in my gut.

“I used to tell myself that you left town and started your own life. That maybe you headed to the beach like we talked about. That you were somewhere, enjoying the ocean, making those silly crafts made out of shells and selling them to tourists. I liked to think that maybe you got married, had kids. That somewhere you found your happy life. Even if I was really pissed off that you dared to find it without me, I still wanted that for you. Because if anyone deserved to have the best of everything, it was you, Yoss.” I pursed my lips together, trying to bottle up years of emotion and failing.

It seemed Yoss was the trigger to unleashing it all.

“You used to tell me that one day soon we’d have everything that we ever wanted. That we’d have our house with the blue shutters and wraparound porch. We’d have a swing we could sit on and watch the sunset every evening. Don’t you remember? We were supposed to go to the beach and swim in the surf.” I squeezed his hand slightly. “But you didn’t do any of that, did you? You stayed, even though you promised you wouldn’t. You lied to me, Yoss. And even worse, you let me live in the same damn city and never came to find me. Why would you do that?”

I bowed my head, closing my eyes. I took a deep breath and tried to get control of myself. Getting upset wouldn’t help either of us.

“It’s like you’re always on autopilot, Imi. I can’t tell if you’re happy. Or if you’re angry. At first I thought you were just really laid back. Now I think that you don’t feel anything at all! You’re completely indifferent!” Chris yelled before stomping out of the house. Ending the argument. And our marriage.

Right then, I was anything but indifferent.

I was wrecked. I was furious.

I was so goddamned hopeful.

Because here he was, after all this time, and even though he was barely hanging on, I was still able to touch him. And that felt like a miracle.

I opened my eyes, but kept them trained on our joined hands. “Maybe I should tell you a story. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. You always liked when I made up dumb stuff to get you to smile.” I chuckled. “The more improbable the better, right? So let me think of something completely unrealistic.”

I sniffled, wiping my wet cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“Once upon a time there was a sad, lonely boy who was actually a forgotten prince. No one knew that he was rich and powerful and had a family that was searching for him.” I smiled sadly, wishing, more than anything, that this particular story had been true.

“One day he met a girl who swore that she would help him get back home to the castle. They fell in love. The prince wanted her to come back to the castle with him so they could live there together. They fought dragons and defeated ogres. They ran from witches and swam through oceans. And finally they found the castle. The prince’s family welcomed him home and he married his princess. And they lived happily ever after.”

I rested my forehead on the back of his hand, hating how cold his skin was. “You always loved your fairytales,” I mused, wishing he had been able to find his.

The hand in mine stirred and I bolted upright. Yoss’s face was contorted in pain, his eyes fluttering.

I got to my feet and reached for the call button so I could alert the nurse that something was wrong.

Then he let out a breath and his eyes opened. They were clouded and confused as they darted around the room, taking everything in.

I was rooted to the spot, not moving. He frowned and then winced when he tried to sit up.

“Uh, you shouldn’t do that. Take it easy,” I instructed, my voice shaking.

Then the wild, green eyes found me. There was no immediate recognition and I felt the crushing weight of disappointment.

He doesn’t know who I am.

His eyes were cold. So cold. Dead. He groaned as he lifted his hand to his face, touching the bandaged skin.

“Let me call the nurse. Your doctor will want to see you now that you’re awake—”

“Where am I?” he asked, his voice rough and hard.

It was a voice I had heard a million times in my dreams.

A voice I never thought I’d hear again. Not in real life.

“You’re at Lupton Memorial Hospital. You were brought in last night.” I didn’t give him any more details. I wasn’t sure he was ready for all that. He had just gained consciousness after all.

“The hospital,” he repeated. He struggled to sit up and hissed in pain at the effort.

“Seriously, you should wait and let me call the nurse—”

His eyes flashed in my direction and the cloud of confusion lifted as he speared me with a look that I felt in my bones.

Recognition.

His eyes widened and his mouth parted in disbelief.

I wanted to say something—
anything—
but my tongue felt frozen behind my teeth.

Yoss shook his head and closed his eyes. He let out a noise that sounded a lot like a sob and my heart knew the sound of pain when it heard it.

When he opened his eyes again, they were wet. Long, dark lashes spikey with tears that refused to fall.

A hundred memories arched between us. A thousand words spoken softly in the dark.

A dozen promises never kept.

His lips curved upwards into the shadow of a smile that I remembered and loved so much.

“Imi,” he whispered.

I nodded, still otherwise paralyzed.

“Imi,” he said again, a tear traveled the length of his cheek and dripped off his chin.

“It’s me, Yoss,” I said finally, forcing myself to speak.

Our eyes met. They held.

They clung and they devastated.

Fifteen years had passed but none of that mattered.

In that instant we were kids again. Remembering a time when, to each other, we were everything.

Fifteen Years Ago

T
he first morning was the worst.

I woke up on my back, the floor hard beneath me, shivering in my borrowed sweatshirt and tiny shorts. The room was still dark, so I knew it was early.

The first thing I noticed was the noise.

It was loud, even though the sun hadn’t come up yet.

People were talking and there was music playing. It was surprising that I had slept through any of it. But I had collapsed in an exhausted heap with Yoss’s reassurances that I’d be safe.

Safe.

That was a word I’d never take for granted again.

Suddenly the sound of screaming filled my ears and I bolted upright in a panic. It was frightened and full of pain. It went on and on and on and no one else seemed to care that a woman seemed to be in very serious trouble.