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begin walking aimlessly down the hallway looking for his room, praying they haven’t taken him into surgery yet. I fearfully look in every room that I pass, praying with each step that it’s all been a big misunderstanding, and he’ll be sitting up in his bed, drinking some juice with a few bumps and bruises. I’m not sure how many doors I’ve looked in when I come upon Dave. I freeze in the doorway when I see the tell-tale tattoo he has on his forearm that’s hanging lifelessly off the edge of the bed. I instinctively rub mine remembering when we had it permanently etched in our skin, just like we are etched in each other’s soul. I fall to the ground at the sight of my strong husband hooked up to all those machines. The reality of his fate is crushing me.
    A hand grips my forearm, lifting me to me feet and leading me to a chair that’s placed next to Dave’s bed, but we do not speak to each other, and I don’t look up to see who it is…I don’t care. I reach for Dave’s hand, shocked by how cold it is, and sink deeper into despair.
    I lean over and begin kissing his knuckles begging for him to fight for me. I take in the clean mint scent that always covers Dave’s hand and smile. He’s such a fanatic about using a mint scented hand sanitizer all the time, and most of the time it drives me crazy. But now--now it’s the one thing that makes him seem alive to me.
    “We’ll be taking him back into surgery soon, but you can stay until they prep him. Can I bring you anything Mrs. Bosi?”
    I still don’t look up or speak, I just nod my head no, and continue praying. I rub the pendant that Dave had left for me hoping that the power of St. Michael will bring him back to me, back to Charlotte. The eerie sounds of the machines beeping and the ventilator swooshing sending air into my husband’s lungs are like nails on chalk board, reminding me of the grave situation the love of my life’s in. I still can’t make sense of what happened tonight, nor do I really care to know the details, all want is for someone to bring him back to me.
    I’m not sure how long I sit at Dave’s bedside before the deep raspy voice from before speaks again. “They’re going to need to prep your husband for surgery now Mrs. Bosi. Why don’t we go in the waiting room and I can inform you of what’s going to be happening, and have you sign some paperwork.”
    I close my eyes tightly, trying not to let the anger bubbling up inside me explode all over this person who just won’t seem to leave me alone. I stand next to Dave, and lean over his stiff, cold body, and place a kiss on his forehead, my tears spilling over his perfect face. Even with all of these tubes, and his pale skin, he’s still perfect. He’s still my Dave. “I’ll be waiting for you,” I whisper in his ear before kissing him one more time and walk out the door to talk with the doctor.
    The florescent lights in the hallway seem to make me feel even more like I’m trapped in some sort of nightmare. I look down the narrow hallway to see Dave’s parents huddled together with Cam and Holden and hastily turn and walk in the other direction. If I see them, if I talk with them, this will all be too real. I turn the corner, out of breath, trying to gain my composure, but I just can’t. I’m shaking violently and slide my back down the wall so that I’m sitting in a ball, with my head between my legs, taking deep breaths, trying to hold back the tears that just won’t stop.
    “Mrs. Bosi?” the same deep voice from Dave’s room is talking, and once again, I feel a firm grip around my arm. “Jess, please come sit in here. You need to drink this.”
    I look up and finally see who the voice belongs to. I recognize him, but can’t quite place him and don’t’ care to. “Are you Dave’s doctor?” I ask, my throat dry and scratchy from grief.
    “I’m Doctor Scott. I’m the surgeon who’ll be performing Dave’s surgery, and will have to get back to him shortly