Then the morning came.
She had experimented, briefly, with drugs while she was in college. For a fleeting moment, she found she could anesthetize herself against the grief and rage. But then morning would follow, and with it, the inevitable crash.
It was like that now. She had retreated to the far corner of the bed, shivering in a thin t-shirt. The alcohol had not been enough to numb her the night before. It had taken something else to dull the pain. There had been a flash of a moment the night before, she thought, when her mind had been utterly blank, when she had felt...nothing.
Then the dark hours of sleep followed, and the pain of loss cut even sharper. It was all she felt now. She couldn't begin to unravel her emotions about what had happened the night before. There was too much to unravel: shame, guilt, regret.
Nigel was lying next to her in a contented sleep. Nigel...her friend and colleague. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be Woody's body pressed against hers in the still of the night. She had shut her eyes tight as Nigel had eased her back onto the bed and imagined it was Woody's hands on her body, Woody's mouth on hers.
She had eluded Woody for years, always stepping away when he had leaned in for that goodnight kiss and then stalked off with a look of hurt in his eyes. Three years she had dodged and dashed. It had only taken a cheap bottle of red wine to end up here with Nigel.
He stirred as the light filtered in through her windows, and she hugged her knees to her chest. His eyes fluttered open and met hers. She braced herself and waited. What would it be? How would he feel? He slowly sat up without a word and searched her face. After a moment, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, elbows on knees.
The silence was awful.
"Say something, Jordan." His voice was still rough with sleep.
"I don't know what to say."
He exhaled and ran a hand through his boot-black hair. "What do we do?"
There was a pause. "We...get up. Go to work."
"And pretend this never happened?" he said with an unintended sharp edge.
"No, that's not what I meant," she started wearily. "I just..."
"Let me guess. You were drunk. You didn't know what you were doing."
"No," she said. "I knew exactly what I was doing. And why." She looked away. "You know why, too."
His eyes fell to the floor. "There are two other people in this room. Aren't there?" It was a statement, not really a question.
She blinked back tears. "We're both hurting so much..." There was no point in going on.
"Well..." His voice was heavy. "I'd better go. Wouldn't want to be late for work." He fished on the floor for his clothes and shuffled into the bathroom.
She sat there with her chin on her knees as she listened to the sound of the water running. Yet another of her messes, and yet another person she had dragged into it. If at all possible, things seemed even bleaker than they had the night before.
She was jolted back to awareness by the ringing of the phone. It was work, no doubt, and she sat motionless while it continued to buzz. Finally, she reached to her bedside and answered.
"Jordan...?" The voice on the other end was rough and strained, but she recognized it from that one word. Her heart fluttered at the sound.
"Woody!"
"I know it's early. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" There was something wrong. She felt it. She sat upright as her chest began to pound with fear.
"No! No! It's okay. What is it? What's wrong?"
"I didn't know who else to call..."
"You can always call me, Woody. Please, tell me. What is it?"
"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to speak to me again..."
"We don't have to talk about it now. Please, just tell me what's wrong?"
"They're taking me in for the second surgery this morning." No words followed, but she could hear the sound of his deep, steadying breaths.
"What is it?"
"I'm scared, Jordan. I'm really scared."
She ached for him. "I know, I know. But it's going to be okay. You're going to walk again. Do you hear me? You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine," she repeated, although she wasn't sure she believed it herself.
"God, I'm so scared." His voice cracked, and she thought she could hear the soft, muffled sound of crying.
"I'll be right there, Woody. I'll be there when you wake up. Okay? Just hang in there."
She hung up before he could hear her cry. She knelt on the bed as her shoulders shook with quiet sobs, unaware the Nigel had entered the room.
"Jordan?"
She looked up and brushed the tears away. "Nigel! I was just about to..." She jumped from the bed and began to pick her clothes from of the floor.
"That was Woody, wasn't it?" he cut her off.
She stopped. "Yeah."
They stood in an awkward silence for a moment.
Finally, he spoke. "Go. Jump in the shower, and I'll drive you to work. You can pick up your car and be at the hospital in half an hour."
She managed a choked thank you before she jumped off the bed, her hand brushing against his as she dashed into the bathroom.