She squirted lotion onto her palms and rubbed them across my chest. “I know your mind is racing; you’re thinking about your future and playing every scenario, but I want you to just think about tonight. Focus on controlling your pain and getting some rest.” She moved to my arms and legs before sliding a new pair of compression socks on me. “Your healing will be day by day. No stressing about tomorrow or next week or what things will look like come winter. Just today.”

My arms went through the holes of a clean gown.

“Every morning, you’ll wake up with a new goal, and at night, you’ll go to bed with that milestone accomplished.”

Once the covering was pulled up to my neck, she set her hand on top of mine. I stared into the deep brown, each inhale as though the wind were slapping against me.

“Don’t mourn that man; he’s not gone, nor is he a stranger. He’s just going to be a little different now.”

A ringing came from her pocket, and she took out the phone to look at the screen.

“You have to go,” I said, surprised by my response and disappointed when she nodded. “Will you be back?”

I didn’t know why I was asking. I only knew I wasn’t ready for the blanket to be ripped away.

She collected the lotion and basin into her arms. “Rebecca is your assigned nurse, and she’ll continue taking care of you until her shift ends. Although shifts have been a bit of a mess these past two days.”

“I’d like to switch nurses.”

She held my eyes for a second longer and then went into the bathroom. When she returned, her hands were free. “Has Rebecca done something wrong?”

“She’s not you.”

She stood by the arm rail once again, and her hands wrapped around it. “How about I promise to check on you as much as I can?” Her phone began to ring. After she read the message, she continued to hold the device. “I’ve worked with Rebecca for a long time. I promise she’s wonderful, just give her a chance to prove it.” A smile moved across her lips, teeth that were perfect enough. “Feeling better?”

“Yes.”

Her grin grew. “That makes me the happiest.” She touched my shoulder, leaving her fingers there. “Remember, clear your head and rest—those are tonight’s goals.”

The light then switched off, turning the brown to a deep black, the sound of her scrubs swishing as she left.

Her wind and silence were the only things that remained.

Four

“It’s time to discuss your aftercare,” the social worker said as she stood next to my bed, several pamphlets and folders in her hands.

My mother was on my other side, holding a notebook and pen, taking notes I couldn’t even begin to process.