Tracy

073:

         

073:

NICU hours were firmly kept, admittance at seven a.m. and kicked out at eleven p.m. She softly pulled her fingers through the safety flaps in the glass, and nodded to the nurse who had come to take Steven's stats.

"He's looking better now that he's got the CPAP." The young girl said with an encouraging smile.

Tracy bit her lips. The doctor had been in just a few hours ago recommending the CPAP, oxygen tubes directly into the baby's nose, a tricky treatment that could go either way with the RDS. Since RDS was caused by a lack of the natural slippery substance called surfactant which kept the air sacs in the lungs from deflating, but ran a risk of over-oxygenation and infection. Steven had a decrease in urine, even though he was being fed through a tube. His breathing was still sporadic, indicative of apnea.

She didn't want to leave.

There was something comforting about being alone in the NICU just being close to Steven and praying for him--- this constant litany in her mind and heart--- save him, please, give him strength, please--- or help me accept thy will. She felt unworthy, having not been consistent with prayer or scripture study in the two years since she'd joined the church. But she kept telling herself it was the right thing to do, you had to start somewhere.

She pulled her sweater on, wrapped her scarf around her head and took the gloves out of her pockets. When she pushed out of the NICU double doors and waved to the station nurses, she looked up into Richard's solemn brown eyes. She caught a dry cough in the back of her throat, and turned her face away from him, as he stepped up to take her arm. He wore blue jeans and basketball shoes, his longer leather jacket and scarf. He smelled like wood burning smoke and chlorine, an odd combination. She stifled her nausea.

"Hey." He greeted her with the merest of pecks on her cheek, as they made their way out to the car he'd borrowed from Ray's garage. The night air burned her lungs and she shivered uncontrollably. It had rained every day since Casey died. Like over-saturated weeping.

"Hey. How's Dan?" She looked up at him, trying not to look directly into his eyes, it was too confusing to see his selfless compassion. His whole life was on hold for her and that was overwhelming.

"He's sulking because I took him swimming and then wouldn't let the Voltron guys in the pool."

"Is he asleep?"

"Monday put him to bed at eight, dutifully having read Pat the Bunny ten times, and The Cat in The Hat three times."

She nodded. "Sounds good."

He opened the car door for her, and then trotted around to the driver's side and got in. "I talked to General Colby tonight, and he's going to pull some strings and get you a satellite call tomorrow."

"Oh Richard!" She breathed, turning to glace at him in shining appreciation. "I can't believe you would do that for me! Thank you!" She leaned over to clasp him around the neck, leaning just a second too long, before sliding back to her space, a satisfied smile lingering on her lips.

"I thought you'd like that plan." He seemed satisfied with her reaction.

"It's so kind of you, all you're doing."

"I talked to Jules, too. He wanted to know how Steven is doing. He said he'd call you later."

"I figured." The elephant in the car was the funeral they'd both missed. She concentrated on the road ahead, the sparkles of shimmering droplets on the windshield before he switched on the wipers.

Startling her, Richard reached over and took her gloved hand and laced their fingers quickly before she could think. Tracy tried to pull away and he held her gently but firmly. He looked over at her as a passing car illuminated her face for him.