The Half-Lit Flame

She hurried to the front entrance of the hospital, and issued a sigh of relief when she spotted the security guard there. Her anxiety was in overdrive regarding what awaited her once she reached the interior. Through the corner of her eye, she spotted a man walking across the parking lot who would soon join her and the guard outside the electronic sliding doors.  

She constructed her story as she spoke; informing the guard that her boyfriend had been in an accident, had surgery, and desperately needed his phone charger. She was a bit chagrined about how easily she could lie. She was not visiting her boyfriend; but, her married lover. Though he was post surgical, the patient she hoped to visit had been there for days. She really had no knowledge of how much of a charge his phone needed. The man who had arrived by this time, concurred that he, too, had injured friends that needed electronic fortification. The guard rerouted them both to the 24 hour emergency entrance. 

The unrelated duo both admitted to not listening to the directions after they were out of the guard’s ear shot. Luckily, the male counterpart had the foresight to Google the directions via walking. While they were waiting on the slow internet connection to guide the way, the man took out a pack of cigarettes.

“Good thinking,” she uttered, slightly aloud. She patted her pockets, and found that she was devoid of any tobacco products, “Damn! I didn’t grab them.” “I’ve only got the one,” the man notified her, “but I don’t mind letting a pretty lady take a couple of puffs.” They both looked down at the lone cigarette in his hand, and the Covid-regulation masks they were both carrying. She chuckled and said, “Mask up or light up?” Her answer was clear as she reached out her fingers to partake of the now lighted smoke.  

The Google map started routing them through the parking lot, as they clumsily passed the cigarette between them while they briskly walked. She took small drags, when the smoke was passed to her. At one point, the cherry dropped from the cigarette as they moved hurriedly to their destination. She located her lighter in the pocket of her shorts; and, re-lit the cigarette. Her feeble attempt resulted in the cigarette only being half lit. She smiled to herself; remembering that meant someone loved her in some sort of silly superstition.

The man initiated small talk with all of the polite “where, why, and when’s.” She answered him, of course, with vague distraction. Her mind was focused on the last text messages exchanged between her and the man in her life. He had asked for a phone charger, and then tried to divert her from bringing it to him. She had grabbed her keys and a spare charger, and hit the road before he could cancel her mission. She hadn’t thought about the complexity of his injuries; landing catlike on his feet from a 20-foot ladder fall. She couldn’t give any credence to any apprehension that most of this relationship existed only in text messages and hotel rooms. She had to see him. She wondered if he reciprocated thoughts of their reunion since his fall. Her anxiety mounted, and she knew she was getting her fair share of her walking companion’s last cigarette.  

The man mentioned something that he hoped the nicotine would get her through her visit. She thanked him, and sent well wishes for his injured friends. She was losing confidence that she would be allowed to enter further into the facility. She motioned the man to go ahead of her when they reached the ER, “I’m sure I’m going to experience some level of extra with my request to visit my boyfriend.”  

The security guard accommodated the man’s visit, and ran him through the security checkpoint to allow him to be taken to his friends’ locations. She thought to herself, “It looks as if afterhour visiting is allowed. I wonder if my request will go as smoothly.”  

She received a text while awaiting her turn to speak to the security guard. It was from her lover, “Where are you?”. She excitedly responded that she was there, and it looked as if she would be allowed to visit. A rapid fire exchange of text messages ensued.  “Do not come to my room, “ he texted back. She responded, “Why?” “Just don’t,” he replied. “I want to see you,” she argued. “Okay. Whatever. Do what you want,” he countered. Again, she asked “Why?” Her heart was sinking. Her head was spinning. She had been afraid that he wouldn’t see her; however, earlier she thought she was overthinking. Now, she was thinking it was over.  

She proceeded through the security point, and was told by the security guard to wait in a corner across from the elevator. Someone would escort her to the floor. She began feeling the gloom and doom of rejection. Her mind imagined the nurse coming to tell her she couldn’t see her boyfriend. She imagined he was accompanied by his wife. Or worse, another female playing martyr by his bedside. She thought of entering his room, and not being able to connect with him due to the nature of her forceful visit against his wishes. Maybe, he wasn’t willing to see her in the “light of day”, and would never make anything about them public. They had only seen each other before under the darkest cover of night. It dawned on her that she really didn’t know him. She was essentially having sex with someone she didn't even know. She felt the passion that had driven her over 100 miles to see him, fizzling out. Her heart felt like it only contained ashes left from the once fiery inferno shared between them.  

She gathered her thoughts, and directed herself back to the security guard’s post. “I can’t wait any longer. Could you make sure this reaches my boyfriend?”, she asked as she handed him the charger. She texted her lover back, “I’m leaving the charger. I can’t do this anymore. Bye.”  

She walked out of the door, and headed back to her car. Right outside the emergency room door, she saw the slight smoldering of a discarded cigarette. She assumed it was the butt left of what she had just shared with a stranger. She ground it with her shoe, extinguishing the flame, and she walked away.