I turn around, and I am surprised to see Emmie waving at me from the entrance of the hospital building not far from me. I am taken aback for a moment, because to be frank, I have not expected anyone to come visit.
While Liz has kept things normal in the time that has followed the accident with our parents, I have instead gone through a self-imposed isolation, finding myself unable to distract myself while dealing with the additional baggage I had woken up from my coma with, along with my grief, my anger, and all.
In some ways, I have my hypersensitivity to thank for those days. That had made me jump into the hole Liz's teasing that day I returned home from the hospital had opened. That had made me hyper aware that I have breasts and a vagina, not something else, that I have a way to reset my burdened mind every time the world was silent.
Anyway, what I mean with all of that is that my self-imposed isolation had calmed my world, but it had also weakened the relationships connecting me to the rest, not just one way, but two ways, especially since most of them had been around my parents, and Liz has taken to dealing with them. So, I have not been expecting any visit at all, not even for Liz, given that we are at her workplace already, and we have not called anyone, much less for me.
But in the next instant, my surprise gives way to shame, because it has only been two days. Just two days, and I realize that I have not even thought about Emmie. My heart sinks, pushed down by a thought that had arisen in my mind yesterday, when I left her place. And that thought is back now for the third time, gloomier, but also weightier, like a rag now wet, and sticky.
After a moment of stagnation, I smile when Emmie arrives before me.
"Emmie. What are you doing here? Actually, how did you know I am here? Or did you just happen to see me?"
Without a word, she leans down and hugs me, making my smile grow softer. The hug is warm, soft, and most of all, full of the relief only someone who cares can feel.
"I only knew something happened this morning when I went to your place. You didn't reply to any of my messages yesterday, and you didn't take any of my calls. I saw the news about a terror attack against a family with only two sisters yesterday, but I never expected that it was you and Liz. When I understood, I searched for more information, but I didn't find much, so I thought to try at the hospital, since it is said that someone got shot. Are you okay? Were you the one who got shot? Where is Lizbeth? Is she alright? Tell me nothing happened to the two of you!"
The warmth I am feeling now overflows, spreading to the places that still carry the traces of what I have been through yesterday. My pain is soothed, and I look at Emmie, before signaling to my side with a nod of my head.
"Sit down first."
Emmie looks at me firmly, then nods when she sees that I am actually of sound mind on top of having no missing body parts. And my smile convinced her. So she sits beside me, and waits for my answer.
My smile widens, just because she is here worried about me. Even her hair has only been casually gathered at the back of her head, and her face has no trace of the usual care beyond being clean, and not fresh. If not for the cold, it would have even been sweaty, I bet.
"First, what do you mean by a terror attack? You saw it in the news?"
Seeing me unworried makes Emmie calm down. She gives me a deep look, then looks at the thick trace from the bandage around my thigh, visible through my gown, before exhaling. Her relief is palpable. She pats her chest, then follows my rhythm.
"Yesterday, there was a report in the news about an isolated attack by a terrorist who broke into the house of a pair of sisters. I didn't catch the information sooner in the day because I didn't really pay attention. When I found out, it was in the evening, after you didn't reply to my messages or take my calls. The news said that the perpetrator died while trying to run away after things didn't go the way he wanted, then didn't say much. It is when I woke up today and you still didn't text me back that I went to your place and saw the traces of chaos there. That is when I thought about the possibility that the story might have been about Elizabeth and you. So I looked harder and finally I found you here."
The fear during the process has been glossed over, but it is impossible to hide. I can imagine how stressed Emmie must have felt. Actually, I'm feeling it, because the dread she has felt is still lingering and weighing down on her mind, intense enough that it bleeds into my mind-reading brain on its own.
I smile slightly and put my hand on Emmie's. But at the same time as I look into her eyes with warmth, I notice how the matter has been pushed down and glossed over. And I'm not surprised. Actually, only the truth would have surprised me. So, will someone come tell us to go along with the story later? Maybe ask more about the research I told the investigators that the assailant has been looking for? Or use that to give us a logical reason for discretion, if we do not want others to come seeking the same thing even though we know nothing about it and it might not even exist?
I sneer while completing the mental image for those behind 'Mike' without even waiting for them to come over with it.
I hate the situation. I hate those behind it. I really want them to get blown up to the sky. But I can't do anything about it.
"Max?"
I even have to swallow the pill and smile pitifully to be given space to live.
I clench my fists again, this time, uncaring of the pain from my sore arms.