“When?” I ask.
“Hopefully soon.”
The next few minutes are torture as we sit and wait in complete silence. Meanwhile, my guilt compounds. I can’t believe that I’m the cause of all of this.
Finally, a woman in a white coat emerges from the crowded corridor. She says Alessandro’s name, glancing around the room.
“Sì. Qui,” he says, getting to his feet.
She walks calmly over to us.
Tyson and I stand, too, watching and listening while she speaks to Alessandro in Italian. Although I can’t follow what she’s saying, she sounds very confident and competent. I tell myself that Tyson is right. This hospital might not be fancy, but that doesn’t mean the doctors here aren’t knowledgeable and caring. This woman has kind brown eyes, and she gives me a compassionate smile as she turns to go.
“What did she say?” I ask, my hands trembling.
Alessandro clears his throat, then says, “Lainey was in very bad shape when she got here.”
“From the fall or the alcohol?” I ask.
“Let him finish—” Tyson says, putting his hand gently on my arm.
“Sorry,” I say, nodding and taking a deep breath.
“Let’s sit,” Alessandro says.
We sit back down, and Alessandro continues, telling us that Lainey has alcohol poisoning. She was having a lot of trouble breathing when she was brought in. They gave her oxygen to protect her vital organs, IV fluids for dehydration, and thiamine and glucose to prevent brain damage.
“Oh my God! Brain damage?” I say.
“It’s probably just precautionary,” Tyson says. “You know—standard protocol with alcohol poisoning.”
Alessandro nods. “They’re running more tests now.”
“Are they doing a CT scan?” Tyson asks.
“I don’t know,” Alessandro says. “She mentioned X-rays. It sounds like Lainey may have broken her arm when she fell.”
“Are they going to let us see her?” Tyson asks, his expression stoic.
Alessandro shakes his head. “Not yet. The doctor said she’ll let us know when we can go back.”
I start bawling, and as Alessandro leans over and gives me a hug, I catch Tyson wiping away tears of his own.
—
Our wait is agonizing, the minutes slowly ticking by in the dingy waiting room.
At some point, I remember my promise to call Olivia and step out to the parking lot.
She answers on the first ring. “Please tell me you found her?”
“Yes. We’re at the hospital, waiting to see her.”
“Oh, no! What happened?”
I bring her up to speed on everything, then say, “Now we’re just waiting. We hope to know more soon.”
“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “Will you please keep me posted?”
“Yes. I promise I will,” I say. “What time is your ferry?”
“I haven’t checked the schedule yet,” she says. “But I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay—”
“You really don’t have to stay. I know you need to get back. Besides, there’s nothing you can do at this point—”
“Hannah, I can’t go yet. Not unless you want me to?”
I hesitate, thinking of Lainey—and Lainey only.
“I don’t want you to,” I say. “But I think maybe you should. Just in case she asks…. But I promise I’ll keep you updated.”
“Okay,” Olivia says. “I understand.”
—
Lainey looks even worse than I had braced myself for. I can’t tell if she’s unconscious or asleep, but her face is pale and covered with cuts and bruises; her right arm is in a sling; and tubes and wires connect her to various machines.
I stand frozen in the doorway, fighting off a fresh wave of tears as I watch Tyson walk over to her bed, peering down at her. He is trying to be strong, but I can tell he’s shaken, too. The language barrier isn’t helping matters. Alessandro finally had to leave for work, and neither the hospital worker who ushered us from the waiting room nor the nurse speaks much English.
