Senior Prom 11

I rode to St. Francis strapped into a small jumpseat in the back of the ambulance, holding Ranger's hand and talking to him through my tears the whole way, everything I felt for him spilling out like water pouring out of a downspout during a torrential rain. I told him in no uncertain terms that he couldn't die, that I wouldn't permit it. I needed him, and that's all there was to it. He wasn't allowed to leave me ever again. I told him over and over that I loved him, that I was always going to love him.

They wouldn't let me stay in the treatment room with him when we arrived at the emergency room. A nurse I didn't recognize had to practically carry me away from him, prying my hand off his so the doctors could do their thing. She supported me with an arm around my waist to keep me from collapsing. I ended up in a small private waiting room after the nurse told me she was almost positive Ranger was going to need surgery. She promised to come tell me when they took him in.

I sat in a wing chair in the little room and sobbed. Fear made my heart stutter and regret made it ache, regret that I hadn't told Ranger how I felt while I had the chance. I told him in the ambulance, but he was unconscious. He didn't hear me.

Tank joined me within minutes. The tears were still flooding my face, and my nose was dripping, so I mopped it with tissues from the box that sat on the small end table. "Did they tell you anything?" I asked in my filled-up, teary voice.

"Just that they were evaluating him. They told me his wife was in the Rose Room."

"Wife?" I wailed, confused and heartsick, more tears gushing out. Did they mean me, because of what Joe told the paramedics? Or was Ranger actually married? Was it already too late for us, before he even knew that I loved him?

Oh God. I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and asked Tank. "What wife? Where's the Rose Room?"

A grid of gigantic white teeth split his face, downright scary. I'd never seen Tank grin before, but I think that's what it was meant to be. "This is the Rose Room, Bombshell. They meant you. Is there something you want to tell me?"

oOo

When they brought Ranger out of surgery the surgeon came in to update us. It was a close thing, he said, but they repaired the damage to his liver and stitched him up again. He'd recover if he stayed quiet for a couple of weeks and didn't tear out the stitches again.

It seemed that I'd done nothing but cry for the past two hours, but that didn't stop me from crying some more. My eyes blurry with tears, I allowed Tank to guide me to the ICU, where Ranger was going to spend the night. I don't know how Tank managed it, but he said a few words to the charge nurse and before I knew it I was in a chair next to Ranger's bed.

I was on Ranger's left, his good side, so I took his hand and studied his face. It had more color than the gray-white I saw while waiting for the paramedics to arrive, but it was still far from the beautiful café au lait color I loved.

I pulled my chair closer to his side and laid my head on the pillow beside his, my cheek resting on his hospital-gowned shoulder. I let go of his hand and slid my arm across his chest, taking care to stay well above the bandages around his midsection.

"I love you, Ranger," I whispered and for the first time in more than four hours, I relaxed.

oOo

"You need to get off the bed, Mrs. Manoso, so I can take your husband's vitals." The nurse's sharp voice awakened me, baffled and befuddled, from a sound sleep.

"Huh?" I said, dragging my eyes open but squeezing them tight again in the blinding brilliance of the fluorescent lights.

"You really shouldn't be on the bed, anyway," the nurse continued in a disapproving tone.

"I need her here." The hoarse growl was the most welcome sound I think I've ever heard in my life. Ranger was conscious.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Ricardo," the nurse said, her voice changing to friendly and flirty, "but what in the world happened to your gown?" Through my squinting eyes I could see her looking Ranger over, smiling and thrusting out her chest.

I lifted my head and saw the most welcome sight of my life, warm brown eyes, open and alert. Ranger framed my face in his hands and his lips met mine, soft and sweet.

"Good morning, Babe," he said.

"Ranger, I…" My voice broke and the waterworks burst forth again and I buried my face in his neck and cried.

He told the nurse to give us a few minutes, wrapped his arms around me and held me close to his good side while I erupted with great wracking sobs.

After a while my uncontrollable blubbering began to diminish and I became aware of Ranger's voice murmuring soothing Spanish into my ear. I didn't understand anything he said, but it was comforting and eased my distress.

"I'm sorry," I said when I regained enough composure to speak. "I don't know what got into me."

"It's okay, Babe, don't cry. I'm sorry I scared you so much."

"I was afraid you were going to die." The tears welled up again and spilled down my cheeks and I buried my face back in his neck. He held me like that for long minutes until the nurse came back in.

"Mrs. Manoso, would you like to freshen up? There's a private bathroom just down the hall where you can shower if you'd like." The nurse was much less harsh with me after my meltdown. She continued, "I believe one of the guards outside has a bag for you. And while you're out I'll check your husband's incision and take his vitals."

"Okay," I said in my teary voice.

As I slid off the bed and felt around with my feet for the flip-flops I'd shoved on before leaving my apartment, Ranger held onto my hand. "Babe," he said, "come right back when you're finished. Please."

"I will, I promise. I'll just be a minute. There's something I need to tell you."

Fifteen minutes later I was clean and dressed in clean RangeMan underwear, RangeMan yoga pants and a RangeMan t-shirt from the bag Tank handed me. There wasn't any makeup in the bag, so there wasn't much I could do about the ravages of all the crying of the past eight hours, but cold water helped the puffiness some. My hair was brushed and in a damp ponytail, and I felt much more human.

Ranger's chest was still bare above the wide swath of bandages, and if he hadn't been in such serious condition I'd be drooling. He smiled when he saw my line of sight and said, "See something you like, Babe?"

"Sure do," I responded, but my voice broke on just those couple of words and the tears welled up again.

"Babe," Ranger said, holding his arms out to me. "Get back in bed. I need you here, and I think you need it, too."

I didn't answer, my throat aching from fighting the tears, but I climbed up onto the narrow bed on his good side, careful not to jar him. He pulled me in against him and exhaled, saying, "There, that's better."

I relaxed in his arms and thought how much I loved him. I'm going to tell him, right now, I vowed.

"I need to tell you something," I said, "but it's hard, and you might not want to hear it."

"You can tell me anything. You know that. What is it?"

"I…" I trailed off.

"What, Babe?"

"I…"

He cupped his hand under my chin and raised my face up so I was looking right into those all-seeing eyes. They were mesmerizing, dark and deep and delicious, and they drew me in, hypnotized me.

"It's a story," I burst out. "A bedtime story to help you go to sleep so you rest and get better. It starts like this. Once upon a time in Trenton…"

TBC