Chapter Text
Dana.
I just want to say goodbye.
It’s all my fault.
Please, just let me say goodbye.
Dana.
Goodbye.
As she was led into the waiting room, the harsh fluorescent lights burned Greta’s red-rimmed eyes. They were a reminder of her bleak circumstances, a contrast to the emptiness she felt within, and a strange constant within the chaos of the emergency department.
“Find a seat. Someone will be along to assess you when they’re free, we’ve already signed you in. If you feel like you are a danger to yourself or others please let the front desk know.” A monotone voice spoke from beside her, but when she looked to confirm their existence, seek their support, they had already left.
Greta sat on one of the only chairs away from other people and curled in on herself. No matter how hard she tried to block out the past 24 hours, flashes just kept invading her mind.
Dana.
“We can’t see each other anymore. They want to cure me. I’m sorry, Greta.”
It’s all my fault.
Please, just let me say goodbye.
Dana.
The pain in her heart felt like it was tearing her chest open, peeling each rib apart one by one. Greta’s eyes were squeezed shut, plunging her into a false darkness. As if by removing the other patients in the waiting room from her eyesight they would no longer be able to see her. No longer be able to see how small she felt, huddled up silently crying. Part of her hoped that with enough tears she could convince the universe to save the right person - to save Dana, instead of herself. Greta had been the one to push their rules, not Dana. Greta had been the one who didn’t stop them from sleeping together when she should have, not Dana. Greta was naïve to the risks, naïve to the insidious bigotry they faced, and yet Dana was paying the price. The thought of Dana losing herself to appease her parents was enough to bring Greta another wave of despair. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and let the waves take her out to sea. She relinquished control to the tide and let the current pull her under, and soon she was drowning in grief.
Carson hopped out of her Uber, gingerly putting weight on her bad ankle.
“Fuck!” A bolt of pain radiated up her right leg. Hobbling the 15 or so feet into the emergency department, she was singularly concerned with signing in and getting some damn pain relief. The front desk was lined with a plexiglass screen with a small grate to talk through. She pulled herself along the desk, standing on one leg to talk to the man on the other side.
“Name?” The man behind the plexiglass was about as enthused as you would expect for someone working at 1am on a Friday night. He barely looked up from his computer screen as he waited for Carson’s answer.
“Carson Shaw,” she responded, battling to be heard above the din of the waiting room behind her.
“Reason for visiting?” He asked.
“Uhh I think I dislocated my ankle? I don’t know for sure but it’s real sore and I can’t walk.” She tried not to ramble, but still give enough detail to be helpful.
“Alright ma’am, take a seat and a nurse will be along to assess you when someone is available.” The man dismissed her with an ambiguous hand wave, vaguely in the direction of the chairs behind her.
Carson turned around, looking for an empty seat. She hoped for one not too close to one of the various drunk people dotted around the place, nor the toddler having a tantrum in the front row. As her eyes scanned the room, she saw an empty row in the middle of the chaos and wondered if she could walk that far. Mulling it over, she figured it was worth a bit of pain for a bit of peace, especially if the wait times were long. However, as she got closer, she saw a figure curled up at the end of the row. A figure clutching their knees to their chest, auburn hair cascading down in front of their face, shoulders visibly shaking, even from a distance. She didn’t know why, but something was pushing her to sit next to them.
She continued to hop over, stopping every few feet to take a break and regain her balance. The pain in her ankle was searing, but the closer she got the more powerful the urge to somehow help this person. Finally, she made it to the chair next to them and unceremoniously plopped herself down, grateful to finally have the weight taken off her feet. Carson could now hear the person crying, desperately trying to bite back sobs. Taking in the sight in front of her, she could see that the figure was a woman around her age, early twenties, clearly distraught and clearly alone. The woman hadn’t acknowledged her presence yet either, but Carson figured she was so lost in her thoughts she truly hadn’t noticed the new arrival.
Not wanting to surprise her too much, Carson gently spoke, “Hey, are you alright?”
“Hey, are you alright?” Greta heard a soft voice next to her. Before she could reason with herself her head popped up, searching for Dana. Instead, she met the gaze of a concerned woman sitting next to her, someone she didn’t recognise.
Dana’s gone now.
“We can’t see each other anymore.”
It’s all my fault.
At these thoughts, the sobs she had been holding in came tumbling out. All the air in her lungs was being sucked out, but no matter how hard she tried, her breathing couldn’t keep up with the void opening within her chest. She let her head fall back onto her knees, trying to turn herself away from the stranger next to her. Instead, she felt a hand on her shoulder. At first, there were short comforting strokes, and when Greta didn’t recoil, she was pulled into a hug. The patience being shown towards her was almost maddening. If not for the weakness cast over her by her anguish, she would have shouted at the stranger that she wasn’t worth it. Not when other more deserving people, like Dana, were without such care or kindness.
Slowly, though, she let herself unfurl. Her feet coming off the seat of the chair for what must have been the first time in at least an hour, she leaned into the hug. Without thinking, she shifted closer to the stranger and practically collapsed into her, Greta’s head now resting on her chest. Desperate to know that this was real and not just a vivid hallucination, she tried to ground herself in her senses. The stranger smelled faintly like cheap men’s body spray, but with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. Greta could hear her heartbeat, the constant rhythm marking the passage of time. Opening her eyes briefly, she looked down and saw the woman was wearing black jeans, Vans brand shoes, and seemed to be holding one of her ankles out at a strange angle. Lastly, Greta could feel the warmth emanating from the arms wrapped around her. Warmth she hadn’t felt since -
Dana.
Her arms wrapped around me.
Interrupted by a door flung open.
I should have been more careful.
It’s all my fault.
Another wave of grief hit her and with the weariness of the past few hours, she was powerless to stop it. Clinging on to the stranger’s t-shirt, she let go and began to sob again.
Looking at the clock, it had taken 20 minutes for the woman to let Carson hold her close, but within that time, neither had spoken. It had been more important to try to comfort her than to pry information out of her. Carson didn’t know who she was, why she was at the hospital at 1am on a Friday night, nor why she was alone. Before she could ask for her name, she felt another round of sobs making their way through the woman’s body, soaking her t-shirt with tears. Softly, she rubbed the woman’s back, trying to communicate that she was cared for.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you! You didn’t answer your phone!” Shit. It was Charlie. He seemed both angrier and drunker than he had been when she’d left him 40 minutes earlier.
Her gaze snapped up to meet his, “I told you I didn’t want you here.” Her voice was now sharp, contrasting with the softness shown earlier. “Besides, I’ve been busy.” She motioned with her eyes towards the woman in her arms. Charlie ignored her and sat down next to her.
“Well it turns out when someone dislocates their ankle it’s apparently ‘good boyfriend behaviour’ to wait with them. So here I am.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable. How did he have the audacity to be annoyed that she had left him when he had already kept her waiting for ten minutes outside the club while he ‘finished up’?
She shook her head, “I’m fine. We’re not doing this here.” She felt the woman’s muscles tense and the grip on her t-shirt tighten, she assumed in response to the intrusion. “If you’re going to insist on being here, can you be helpful and bring us some water?” Carson asked pointedly, trying to get him to leave for even a moment. Charlie sighed, opened his mouth as if to respond, then thought better of it and walked off.
As his footsteps receded, she spoke softly again, “Hey, it’s okay. That’s my on-again-off-again boyfriend, Charlie. We’re in a fight right now so it’s a little strained, but I do know him, I promise.” At this the woman relaxed. Carson so desperately wanted to know what was running through her mind, she was obviously in her own world but still perceptive enough to respond to the shift in Carson’s behaviour.
Too quickly, Charlie returned with only two cups of water. Carson took both from him before he had a chance to respond and quickly downed one of them. Taking in his shock, she gave him the empty cup and said, “If you want one so badly go refill it. I think she needs this more than you do.” As he stomped off, she tried to coax the woman to take the water. “Now I don’t know about you, but I usually feel a bit better having a bit of water, even if it’s just a tiny bit. Also forgive me for saying so but it feels like you might have cried just about the same amount onto my t-shirt as what’s in this cup, and I don’t want to see you have to get treated for dehydration too.” This received a sharp exhale that she took as a quasi-laugh. “Yeah alright, well between you and Charlie at least one of you is laughing at my jokes tonight.”
The woman cautiously lifted herself off Carson’s chest, wiping tears from her face, and with a shaking hand took the cup. This was the first time Carson had been able to meet her gaze for more than a split second, and she found a look of profound sadness. One that spoke more than words could communicate.
“Thank you.” Her voice was so quiet, if Carson hadn’t been looking directly at her face and seen her mouth move, she wouldn’t have heard it. The woman took a small sip, then resumed her position huddled against Carson’s chest.
When her gaze met the stranger’s, all Greta saw was genuine concern and compassion. Why was this woman so worried about her when she clearly had her own problems to deal with? She wanted to shake her and scream that she wasn’t worth it, but she resigned herself to a meek, “Thank you,” before sipping some water and putting her head back on the stranger’s chest.
Charlie eventually returned in a huff, but Greta didn’t mind so much because it meant that the three of them sat in silence for a bit longer. Soon, though, she could feel the chair vibrating slightly, she assumed from Charlie jiggling his leg.
“Hey, how long have you been here? Have you eaten? Do you need some food?” The woman’s voice was soothing, clearly directed towards her. Greta knew this was an attempt at getting Charlie to leave again, but the thought of food was nauseating. She shook her head. “Alright, just had to check. You let me know if you need anything?” She nodded.
After a while, Charlie started to sober up and actually started having a conversation with the woman. Greta wasn’t really paying attention to the content of it, it was to do with people she didn’t know and places she hadn’t heard of, but she appreciated it nonetheless. She appreciated the fact that as the stranger spoke, Greta could feel her voice reverberate in her ribs, mingling with the rise and fall of her breathing and the pulse of her heartbeat. This combination ushered Greta towards a stillness that she had missed, temporarily silencing the painful thoughts. A weight fell across her eyelids and she could feel herself drifting off in the comfort of the stranger’s arms.
Occasionally, she would awaken to laughter, or a gentle repositioning, but would quickly fall back asleep when she realised where she was.
“Greta? Are you Greta Gill?” Her voice was soft- but how did she know her name? Greta’s eyes sprung open to see the stranger looking down at her, but another woman stood off to the side.
She nodded, “Uh yeah, sorry.” She extracted herself from the stranger’s arms, immediately missing the calm she had found there.
“We’re ready for you, sorry about the wait, it’s been a busy night for us. Follow me,” the new woman said. She didn’t sound nearly as caring as the woman looking after her had been, but Greta knew she had to go. Gathering herself, she stood from her chair for the first time in a few hours and looked back at the stranger. She gave her a sad smile, before following the new woman out of the waiting room.
Greta had given up trying to process everything that had happened the night before, because nothing made sense. If she could barely remember how she got to the hospital, how could she be sure she hadn’t imagined the stranger? She knew Jo had been worried and had called someone, but that was it. Had she even said anything to the woman? She couldn’t remember, could barely remember what she looked like. She wanted to write down everything she could recall but she didn’t have anything with her when she was admitted, just the clothes on her back.
Trying to still her fidgety hands, she stuffed them into the pockets of her hoodie. Her hand unexpectedly touched a piece of card and stilled. That hadn’t been there the previous night, she was sure of it. Apprehensively, she pulled it out. It was a ripped piece of a paper water cup with a mobile phone number written on it.
The other side was signed - “Carson”.