Bayview Hospital | @rafe-santos
Natalie could not remember the last time she felt so physically uncomfortable. She ached with the urge to flee, working diligently to keep her body completely still. But obligation pinned her to Rafael’s side, taking up residence at his hospital bed, waiting for him to open his eyes, to confirm he’d be alright. A familiar motif.
They hadn’t corresponded since she’d picked up the last of the things she’d wanted from the apartment. It was an amicable exchange of goods, Rafe insistent she could have whatever she wanted, at the rink when she’d finally stopped by to retrieve just her clothes and a few sentimental objects. On the way back to her grandparents’, she’d pulled over to vomit. The entire day felt like a fever dream, so removed from reality she had no concept internally of when it’d actually happened. Years ago. Yesterday. To see him now hurt her stomach again. She tried not to look at him.
She scanned her phone mindlessly, replying to emails from students looking for extensions on final papers, when she heard a rustling. Darting her eyes upward, she watched as he came to, slowly and unsure, clearly alarmed by what his eyes were immediately taking in. A pang of sympathy resounded in her heart. “Rafe,” she murmured softly, coaxing him to look her way. When he did, their eyes locking, she felt so vulnerable, so exposed, she almost couldn’t speak. Her throat felt thick as she assured him, “It’s alright. You’re okay.”