Within These Walls by J. L. Berg Page B

uncertain, and I watched as they searched mine for the hidden clue or missing piece that she couldn’t figure out. She knew I wasn’t sharing something, and she was right. But she didn’t know that it wasn’t just something. It was everything.
    There wasn’t much conversation during our elevator ride back up to cardiology. I stood behind her as she studied her nails and then watched the different floors light up.
    We said a quick good-bye. I made yet another excuse about not feeling well and needing to rest before my shift, and then I bailed. I didn’t think I took a breath until the elevators closed behind me, and I was moving downward, away from the cardiology department and Lailah.
    I went back to the cafeteria, which was a great deal slower now that the rush had cleared out. I walked into the kitchen and proceeded to bag up all the unused produce, leaving it there with a note that said it was up for grabs. It would find a much better home among the kitchen staff. I wouldn’t know what to do with anything that had an expiration date.
    I sadly looked down at the unopened cake I’d bought. We didn’t even make it to dessert.
    Another note went on the cake.
    I finished up cleaning, wiping down the counters and washing the few dishes we’d used. Once I was done, I thanked Betty and started to make my way out of the cafeteria.
    “Hey, Puddin’. You forgetting something?” Betty asked, holding up two small cups of chocolate pudding.
    I gave a weak smile and shoved my hands in my pockets. “No, not tonight. Thanks.”
     

     
    I spent the next hour doing what I did whenever I would start to feel like the waves were pulling me under. I wandered the halls and found myself back at the place where I’d held her hand for the last time, where I’d bent down and kissed her bruised cheekbone before telling her I loved her even though I knew she couldn’t hear me, where I’d listened to her heart beat for the last time.
    During the first year or so, I’d just walk the halls. Sometimes, I’d rest against a wall or even sit on the floor if it were a really bad day. After I’d started taking classes to become a nurses’ assistant, I’d come back after a particularly bad class about trauma patients and found a bench where I usually sat. I didn’t know who had decided to put it there, but I had my theories, and they all revolved around a certain woman in HR.
    For the longest time, the bench had made me angry.
    I remembered thinking, How dare someone meddle in my pain and invade the sanctity of my personal hell.
    But the longer the bench had stood there, the less and less, I’d felt anything. As the days had passed, I’d let the numbness of my life take over until nothing was left but my grief and memories.
    In the hallway where I’d screamed and begged for Megan’s heart, I sat down on the cool wooden bench situated across from the room where I’d lost my soul mate, and my thoughts began to drift back to Lailah.
    I’d laughed today, felt emotions beyond despair and loss today.
    With Lailah, I’d felt human for the first time in years.
    Is friendship bringing these emotions to the surface again? Or is it more?
    Leaning forward, I rested my head on my hands. I looked across the way at the closed door to the room that had once been Megan’s.
    It was so long ago, but if I closed my eyes, I could still see her. I remembered the way her hair had smelled in the morning after she just showered and the sound of her laugh when I told a joke. She was supposed to be my forever, but I’d lost her.
    That was the end. My story was done.
    Months after she’d died and I’d taken my position at the hospital, I’d come home late one night. I’d felt so tired that I had basically been sleepwalking to my doorstep where I’d found someone sitting.
    “Who the hell are you?” My voice sounded hoarse and strained from the lack of sleep.
    I’d pulled two shifts in a row, trying to make more cash to build up my savings account so