“You have to– to let me see her, I’m– I’m family,” stuttered Maggie at the reception desk of the hospital wing. “They called me.”
No one ever actually called her instead of texting, so when her phone had audibly rung and woken her in the early hours of the morning from where she’d fallen asleep after the cocktail party, she’d instinctively reached out in the dark and answered groggily. But the bleariness of sleep had vanished instantly as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. She’d only picked up a few words - don’t be alarmed, your sister Florence, attack, concussion, knife, hospital wing - before she was out of bed and flying towards the hospital wing, in her pajamas and bare feet.
“Please, where is F– Florence Vanzin?” she begged the receptionist at the desk again, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of her other family members– surely they’d been called, too. It was hard to breathe, like she was sucking air through a straw; her vision began to blacken around the edges. She curled her fingernails into her palms and pressed hard, trying to get herself to calm down. Pull it together. A nurse appeared behind the desk and gestured for Maggie to follow her. He said something as he led her down the hall, but she couldn’t focus on his words, only on the fact that Florence was here, and Florence was hurt.
Down the hallway, he opened a door and brought her into a room where Maggie was immediately greeted with the alarming sight of her sister shouting and struggling against a nurse who was trying to guide her back towards the hospital bed. “Flo,” Maggie cried, rushing over. Turning on one heel, she addressed the nurse, with an uncharacteristic confidence only instilled by the concern she had for her sister. “She told you to let go of her.” She took a deep breath. “But Flo, you’ve– you’ve got to lie down. They said you have a– a concussion, please, just. Lie down.” She reached out towards Florence as if to touch her arm gently, before pulling back, remembering that she’d just said she didn’t want to be touched. But nothing could tone down the relief she felt that there was physical, ocular proof that her sister was alive, she wasn’t dying.
‘Flo.’ Florence’s head snapped around. She was suddenly free of the nurse’s grip, who seemed more ready to listen to her sister than her, and half tried to push herself back up. But, the hysterics had taken it out of her. Head pounding from either her concussion or her crying, she couldn’t tell, she didn’t make it further than the edge of the bed. “But, Mags - “ she tried to protest, less passionately this time. Florence’s voice was smaller, choked up and desperate. “I’m losing my head in here.”
Maggie had always been Florence calm. Her presence was a cool hand on the forehead, or a breeze on a long, hot day. Florence’s shoulders sagged in defeat, not quite soothed but not aggravated more. The nurse hovered, then moved away, seeming to decide Maggie had the situation under control. Florence pushed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if it’d somehow stop all the noise in there. “Can I not just... just have a walk. To my dorm. Please.”
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