Chapter 15 - The Flight Home
There was no immediate military transport west.
Commercial flights were delayed by storms.
For once, rank solved nothing.
I stood inside Reagan National Airport staring at a departure board while Sophie lay unconscious two thousand miles away.
I called Dr. Patel.
He explained that Sophie had experienced a severe infusion reaction complicated by her already weakened condition.
“She’s stable.”
“Stable and unconscious?”
“She’s sedated.”
“Why?”
“To support her breathing while we manage the reaction.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“When will she wake up?”
“We hope soon.”
Hope.
I hated that word.
Then Dr. Patel said something else.
“Colonel, Rachel told me you’re blaming yourself.”
“I left.”
“You went to Washington because Sophie told you to.”
“I left.”
“She is sick whether you stand beside her bed or two thousand miles away.”
I knew he was right.
It changed nothing.
I finally found a flight to Denver.
Weather diverted us to Kansas City.
I spent four hours trapped inside an airport.
In the past, helplessness made me run.
Now there was nowhere to run.
So I sat.
And felt everything.
Fear.
Guilt.
Love.
Grief.
Anger.
I called Rachel every hour.
At 2:16 a.m., she answered differently.
“She’s awake.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Put her on.”
A minute later, Sophie’s voice came through.
Weak.
Raspy.
“You missed your chance.”
“What?”
“To finally get rid of me.”
I laughed and cried at the same time.
“Never make that joke again.”
“Did you finish the board?”
“Yes.”
“How was it?”
“I don’t remember.”
She coughed.
“Liar.”
“I mean it.”
A pause.
Then she whispered.
“Come home.”
Two words.
Not come back.
Not come to the hospital.
Come home.
“I’m coming.”
I reached St. Vincent just after sunrise.
Sophie was awake.
Rachel stepped aside.
I walked toward the bed.
For several seconds, Sophie and I simply looked at each other.
Then she lifted her arms.
I went to her.
She buried her face against my chest.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She pulled back.
“I need you to understand.”
“I thought I was dying.”
“And the person I wanted was you.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Sophie touched my face.
“I’m still angry at you.”
“I know.”
“I still don’t trust this completely.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to pretend I stopped loving you.”
I covered her hand with mine.
“Then we stop pretending.”
She kissed me.
This time neither of us pulled away quickly.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Patel entered with her latest scan results.
His expression was unreadable.
Sophie grabbed my hand.
He sat down.
And said the sentence we had been waiting months to hear.
“The lymphoma has responded exceptionally well.”
May you like
But then he turned the page.
“There is one consequence of treatment we need to discuss.”
