“Oh, he came with you, did he?” Memo croaked, her breathing growing heavier. “That’s nice.”
He wasn’t there when she got to the waiting room, so she headed out to the front of the hospital, in case he was still outside. It was cold and fresh, her breath misting in front of her, but there was no sign of him there either. She was frowning when she retraced her steps. There were a few more people in the waiting room now, but none of them were Max.
Josie saw Helen coming out from the ICU and crossed to her. “I can’t find him,” she said, trying to control the hint of panic that was creeping into her voice. Had he disappeared on her, again? Surely not, not after what he’d told her.
But there was a faint ringing in her ears, and her nerves felt jittery. There’s something I want to talk to you about.
“Didn’t he say he was going to get coffee?”
Josie nodded, but bit her lip. The other two times he’d been, he’d been back in moments, and she’d passed the coffee machine when she went to look for him outside.
“Maybe he went to the toilet,” Helen suggested, but she was frowning too.
Yes, thought Josie. That would be it. She hadn’t checked there, obviously, but if she waited for him here then surely he’d be back any minute.
It was then that two more people came out from the ICU. One of them was the young blond nurse Josie had seen yesterday, and it was she who gestured toward Helen and Josie. Josie’s heart stuttered and she looked at Helen, seeing the same panic reflected in her face. The woman the nurse was with, who was wearing blue scrubs, a look of authority marking her out as a doctor, nodded, then walked over to meet them.
“What is it?” Helen demanded.
“You came in with a man, is that right?” Her voice was far too even, far too calm.
“Which man?” Josie asked, even though she knew, somehow. She understood that this woman had come looking for them in particular, that she was talking about Max, and that whatever the reason, it wasn’t good. A chill descended on her body.
“A Max Carter?” The way her voice turned gentle around his name made Josie want to hiss.
“Yes,” she said instead, almost snapping it out. “Has there been some kind of accident?” Had he made a faux pas, taken too many painkillers or something? She knew that was wrong, knew it was more than that from the way the doctor was looking at her with a practiced face. But her body wouldn’t believe her. It remained chilled and numb.
The doctor glanced around the room. You wouldn’t know it was Christmas Eve in here, Josie thought numbly. Nothing to mark the festive period, like celebrating a festive holiday was somehow wrong when surrounded by so much death.
The doctor indicated one of the seats in the waiting room, and ushered Josie and Helen toward it. But Josie stayed standing. “What happened?” she whispered. She needed to know. Needed to know now, needed this doctor to tell her.
“Can I just ask what your relationship is to Max?”
“I’m his…” Josie hesitated, trying to figure out the right word. There wasn’t one, she realized. But the doctor didn’t need to know the details right now. “I’m his friend.”
The doctor nodded, and took a breath. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but he’s passed away.”
Josie stared at her. That couldn’t be right. There’d been some kind of mistake, obviously. Max was fine, he’d been here five minutes ago. He’d made gingerbread with her yesterday, he’d come with her to the hospital. You didn’t just keel over and die after that. Something cold seized her heart as she thought for a moment that they’d meant to tell her that something was wrong with Memo, because they shared the first letter of their names, before realizing that she was the only one who called her grandmother Memo.
“No,” she said firmly. Her voice was sure, confident. She even looked around the room again—ready for Max to come up to them now, to make some joke that only he would understand about the mistaken identity.
“What happened?” Helen whispered to the doctor, and Josie jolted, turning her attention to Helen. Nothing happened, she wanted to tell Helen, because there was no way they were talking about Max.
“He had a brain aneurysm. There was nothing we could do. He collapsed here, in the waiting room, but by the time we got him to—”
“No,” Josie repeated. But her voice sounded lumpy and wrong now.
The doctor looked directly at Josie now. “He would probably have gotten a bad headache at some point in the last few hours, but he would likely have thought nothing of it, because of the tumor.”