Chapter 21: Wish Ninety-Nine

They let me into the ICU at two in the afternoon.

Damian lay in the bed by the window with a tube taped at his mouth.

A machine breathed for him in slow, even pulls.

The nurse showed me where to stand. She said I could hold his hand if I stayed clear of the lines.

I took it.

It was warm, which I had not expected, and the fingers were limp.

"Hi," I said.

The machine rose and fell.

"They told me you're stable."

"They said it might be a day, or three, before you wake up. I said I would wait."

I pulled a chair close and sat.

"I've been talking to you for two years in my head," I said. "Never out loud. I think I'm going to practice."

The nurse left, and the curtain shut behind her.

"On the road that night I looked back and saw you through the rear window."

"You had your hands on the wheel and your head down."

"You had just done the worst thing of your life and you didn't know it."

"I wanted to run back and shake you. I wanted to scream at you, and I wanted to cover you up."

"I did neither. I went and held the hand of the man in the road."

I laid my forehead on the rail of the bed.

"I never blamed you," I said. "Not for one minute. I need you to hear that part."

The monitor beeped steadily.

"I blamed myself. I should have made you pull over before the shift ended. I should have driven."

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