Even with that much experience, that 500th tandem jump felt like the most terrifying jump I’d ever taken. I’d never been nervous to jump out of a plane before then. I’ve never worried that my chute wouldn’t open. I’ve never once been concerned for my life until that moment. Because if that particular jump didn’t end well, that meant dinner with Maggie was off the table. And I really wanted to take her to dinner. I’d planned to ask her out since the moment I laid eyes on her as I walked into the facility that day.
My immediate reaction to her surprised me. I can’t even remember the last time I was attracted to someone like that. But the second I saw her, something in me woke up. Something I knew was there, but had never been rattled until then. I hadn’t looked at a girl and felt that way in so long, I forgot how stupefying attraction could be.
She was standing at the counter, taking paperwork from Corey, who was on schedule to jump tandem with her. As soon as I realized she was there alone, I waited until she took a seat to fill out her paperwork, and then I begged Corey to let me take over and be the one to jump with her.
“Jake, you’re barely here once a month. This isn’t even your job,” he said. “I’m here every day because I actually need the money.”
“You can have the fee,” I said. “I’ll give you the credit. Just let me have this one.”
When I told him he could keep the money for none of the work, he made a face like I was an idiot and then waved his hand toward Maggie. “All yours,” he said, walking away.
I felt triumphant for a split-second until I looked back at her, sitting in the chair, all alone. Skydiving is such a monumental moment in the lives of most people who do it. Most first-timers never come alone. They almost always have people with them who are experiencing their own monumental moment by also jumping, or they have people with them waiting on the ground for when they survive the jump.
In all honesty, she was the first first-timer I’d ever seen show up completely alone, and her independence both intrigued me and intimidated me. Since the moment I walked up to her and asked if she needed help filling out the forms, nothing has changed when it comes to the situation inside my chest. It’s been days and I’m still filled with that same nervous energy. I’m still intrigued. Still intimidated.
And I have no idea how to move forward.
That’s why I’m stuck in this hallway, right outside the hospital room where they brought her two hours ago.
I was dealing with another patient when Vicky found Maggie and dealt with the entire situation without my even being aware. She didn’t tell me until I finished up with two more patients and Maggie had already been gone for an hour.
Vicky said she noticed it was taking Maggie a while to get dressed and exit the room, so she went to check on her. Maggie was on the floor, just recovering from a blackout. Vicky tested her sugar levels immediately and then sent staff with her over to the hospital. The clinic I work at is adjacent to our hospital, so we’re used to having to transport patients. I’m just not used to the medical emergencies also feeling like a personal emergency.
Since the moment Vicky informed me of what happened, I haven’t been able to concentrate. I finally had a colleague take over so I could come check on Maggie. Now that I’m in the hallway, standing in front of her room, I’m not sure how to feel or what to do or how to approach this entire situation. We’ve been on one date with the potential of another. But now she’s in the hospital and in the exact vulnerable situation she was scared she’d be in when it came to us.
Her being constrained by her illness. Me being here to witness it.
I step aside when the door to her hospital room opens. A nurse walks out, heading for the nurse’s station. I follow her. “Excuse me,” I say, touching her shoulder. She pauses and I point at Maggie’s room. “Have you notified this patient’s family yet?”
The nurse glances at the name on my coat and says, “Yes. Left a voicemail as soon as she was brought in.” She looks down at the file. “I thought she was Doctor Kastner’s patient.”
“She is. I’m her cardiologist. She was at my clinic when her condition worsened, so I’m just checking in.”
“You’re from cardiology?” she asks without looking up from the file. “We’re aware of the CFRD, but have nothing on file about heart issues.”
“It was just a preventative check-up,” I say, backing away before she gets too nosy about my nosiness. “I just wanted to make sure her family was notified. Is the patient alert?”