You take a deep breath, ragged edges tearing at your lungs as you step out of the hospital room. It was hell to see him like this—he tried so hard to pretend he was still as strong as ever, but… you swallow, hard. He still had weeks left—months, maybe—though if you heard your dad say it he’d be back home working on that old car by Saturday.

“Fuck!” you hiss, blinking away tears. You knew that there was no chance that was true, but the way he said it—you wanted to believe it. A sigh builds up in your chest, but you force it down, shuffling down the hall. You’re barely paying attention, which is how you bump into her.
Just as the door she slipped out of clicked closed, you accidentally shoulder-check the woman. An apology is already on your lips by the time you realize she’s fine, your eyes making the long trip up from the floor to her face.
“Sorry!” you say anyway, blinking as you try to take her in. She had an intense gaze—like she was looking down on you—that just made you instinctively apologize. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Bet not,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. The woman clicked her tongue, her gaze fixed on you for a second as she adjusted the fancy-looking coat on her arm. “Ugh.” She shook her head slightly, barely noticeable—but you’d gotten used to recognizing subtle tells like that, when the nurses came in to talk to your dad.
“I’m sorry, really. I just…” you pause. You really shouldn’t offload your problems on her—better to keep quiet. “Nevermind. Are you alright?” You know she is, but you have to ask anyway—pops raised a gentleman, after all.
“Pff.” She brings a gloved hand to cover her mouth as she nearly bursts into laughter. ‘Like you’d even be able to hurt me’, her look says, but she doesn’t say it. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She pauses, as if weighing something in her mind. “You good?” she decides.
“Fine,” you lie, the word coming easily to your lips these days. “Bad news,” you shrug, in response to the small tilt of her head.
“Heh. Is there any other kind around here?” A hint of a smile crosses her face as she glances around the intensive care ward, but it quickly fades into a wince. “Sorry, that was stupid.” You wave, dismissing the faux pas.
“Sorry to bother you,” you sigh, trying to summon up a smile. You’re sure she had better things to do than listen to you cry, so you make for the exit.
“Hey!” She sounds angry as you turn to face her again. “I wasn’t done with you yet.” You blink—what the hell was that supposed to mean? She clicks her tongue again. “Look, you’re going through some hard stuff. Do you want to talk to somebody about it?” Okay, now you’re confused. You freeze, your mouth falling open a little bit. A woman this insanely hot was hitting on you? What else could she be doing? What was the angle here?
Quickly re-evaluating, your gaze flicks over her body again. She was way out of your league, right? You were just supposed to say no here, and be glad your elbow accidentally brushed against her tits—which were massive, by the way—when you passed her?
“Sure. Coffee?” Fuck. Why were you so dumb? She nods, and you head towards the hospital’s cafeteria. For some reason, they had a Starbucks in there—which you didn’t really get, but whatever.

“Your dad is sick?” She sips on an iced coffee thoughtfully. “That’s… rough.” You spot another small wince, catching herself a few seconds too late for saying something so indelicate.You didn’t really care—you’d heard worse. From your brother, mainly—dad was still in the hospital, and he was already talking about who would get the house.
“He’s been sick before,” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling, to distract yourself from the insanely hot chick sitting across from you. “Chronic, or something.” You didn’t understand all that fancy medical jargon—you just knew things had gotten a lot worse. “It’s real bad now.” Your voice trembles a bit—god, did you have to be such a wreck?
“Mmm.” Still… this lady was a good listener. You felt a bit better, venting like this. “I’ve… never had anything like that happen,” she admits. “So I can’t say I know how hard it is, cuz’ I don’t.” A flash of teeth, at that—for some reason, your eyes fixate on the sharpness of her canines. “But I’ve had a lot of…well, I’ve seen it a lot, is all.” The conversation fades as she sips on her drink.
“Thanks for sympathizing, at least.” God, this was stupid. You didn’t even know her name, and you were spilling all the details? “It helps.” It did, really. “The doctors say he’s still got a few weeks left—hopefully enough for everybody to come down.” She coughs, choking on a bit of coffee, and you jump a bit before she waves you off. “I just… I don't know what to do, you know?” Even the idea of what happened after this…

“You’ll make it through,” she tells you, a gloved finger tapping on your arm. For some reason, the confidence in her voice almost makes you believe it. “But…” she trails off, looking behind you. “Look, just remember that things always get better, okay?”
The sound of heels hurriedly tapping against the tile floor approaches quickly, and you sit up, turning to face the nurse as she enters, a devastated expression on her face. Her eyes scan the cafeteria, but then focus in on you—and you feel your stomach drop.

“Why?” Your word comes out hissed through gritted teeth and hot tears, holding your head in your hands. “They said he had time!” you sob. He was supposed to have time! Fuck! Your fist slams against the drywall, pain shooting up your arm—your mind seizes on that, as something else to focus on. Your forehead is next, slamming against the wall as if to knock the sight out of your head—the sound of a flat heart monitor, like you’d only ever heard on TV before.
“I’m sorry.” You blink past tears—the woman is still here. You didn’t know she followed you back up. She actually sounds apologetic, as if she had something to do with it.
“Why?” you manage to ask, glaring at her. “Did you kill him?” She recoils as if you’d slapped her, and if you were in a better state of mind you might’ve apologized for that. But you're not—you couldn’t care less about being polite.
“If I hadn’t asked you to talk with me, you would’ve been here for it,” she tells you, her voice flat. “But I thought it would be better this way. I mean—” She raises a hand as you turn.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You whirl, hands balled into fists—she was acting like she knew what was going to happen ahead of time.
“I’m not—I thought you’d feel better if you had somebody to talk to, but I lost track of time, and—fuck,” she murmurs, as if to herself. “Maybe I should just go back.”
“Go back?” She jumps—that clearly wasn’t meant for you to hear. “What, are you some kind of time traveller or something?” She glares, as if those words hold some special meaning to her, but you don’t care anymore. “Did you know?” Your face is burning, and you feel like you’re about to explode.
“I just thought—”
“Did. You. Know?” You’re too worked up to think about how ridiculous all of this is—all you can think is, if she knew your dad was about to die, why didn’t she say something?
“Yeah, I did!” she nearly shouts, jabbing a finger into your chest. “I know everything that’s going to happen! Why the hell do you think I was here in the first place?” She takes a step forward, and you instinctively step back—suddenly, she seems a lot taller than you, instead of only a little, and there’s some kind of aura around her, the air shimmering. “I try to do a favor for somebody and now you’re pissed at me for not reversing time to save your dying relative?”
She’s not even angry at you at this point—she’s arguing with somebody who’s not even here, and using you as a scapegoat. She lashes out, striking the wall, and her fist punches a hole through the drywall, the area around where she hit greying, the paint flaking off. What the hell was happening?
“Why do you think I come here? I know I can’t save anybody! I know what happens when I fuck with the rules!” she yells—one of her hands grabs your shirt, and you wince in pain as she catches a bit of skin with it. “I’m trying to help people!” You’re edged up against the wall at this point, and you croak out something—you’re not sure what, but it’s enough to snap her out of it, and she jumps back, letting you go as you slide down the wall.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “Ah, whatever, not like you’re gonna remember this anyways,” she sighs. “Look, I get that it sucks that your dad died. But at least you were there for him, before he did.” She moves to adjust her gloves, but then notices they’re gone. “A lot of people don’t get that.”
“And that’s why you’re here?” You have no fucking idea who this woman is, at this point—some kind of god, or something? “So that people don’t die alone?” It seems ridiculous, but…
“Yeah. I guess.” She shrugs, shaking her head. “Look, I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that. You didn’t deserve it.”
“It’s fine.” You sigh. “But, if you’re gonna… wipe my memory, or whatever,” you start. “Can I ask one thing?” She raises an eyebrow, picking at the sleeve of her turtleneck. Eventually, she nods.
“One question. Sure.” You get the feeling that she’s done this before—hundreds of times. Thousands, maybe. You swallow, trying to think of something.
“When… when it’s me.” All you can think of is… how it must have felt, for your father, to not have anyone with him. “Will you be there?”
“…yeah. I will. And…” She takes a deep breath. “I can bend the rules, just a bit.” What? You meet her eyes. “You’ll see.”

You’re holding his hand, when he goes. There’s a smile on his face—the nurse says it wasn’t even painful. You slip out of the room a few hours later, biting your tongue to hold back tears. You barely notice a woman giving you an odd look as you head towards the parking lot.

Edit
Pub: 30 Aug 2021 20:20 UTC
Views: 128