The Inkwell Combined Writing Prompt #25 ~ Creative Nonfiction: The note on the fridge

There she was, sitting on that cold bench, staring at a clock that wouldn't move; at least that's how it felt to me. I had been standing in front of that glass door for two hours—a door I walked through almost every day, but this time, I found myself on the other side. People came and went; two hours had passed, and no one had given us any news about Mariana. “Please Be Quiet,” read the sign hanging at the entrance. I had walked past that spot countless times and had never stopped to read that sign. Mariana was still behind those double doors; we were still trapped there in that “we still don’t know anything.” I lay back and close my eyes, and strangely, I see her sitting at the small wooden table doing homework or just looking at her phone—just a day ago, that’s what was happening. Now she was in there, lying on a stretcher, with wires connected to a monitor and a mask providing her with oxygen. That note stuck to the fridge with a magnet also came to mind; it was a piece of paper torn from a notebook, in her clumsy handwriting: “Gene, Mariana fainted. We tried to revive her, but she didn’t respond. We took her to the hospital in an ambulance.” That was the message; A note the girls had left me because a few days earlier my phone had been in an accident and was out of commission; as of that day, I still hadn’t been able to get it repaired.

That Tuesday, I got home late. I saw the note on the fridge but didn’t pay it any mind; I went straight to the bathroom, then turned on the computer. It was then that I went back to read the note, and I nearly collapsed when I saw what it said. “What could have happened to him?” I wondered. In an instant, I was already closing the door. At that moment, I really regretted not having my cell phone. I wasn’t walking—I was practically running. Thankfully, the hospital was close to the residence, and in a few minutes I was already there. As soon as Lucí saw me, she ran toward me. “I can’t see Mariana clearly. Esther is inside with her; I didn’t want to go in,” she told me. At that moment, I realized I hadn’t brought my white coat or my student ID with me, so I couldn’t go in either. We had no choice but to wait for news in the waiting room; What a long wait—a wait that drives you to despair. We’d walk around and then sit back down, and nothing happened, until finally Esther came out. She hurried over to us as we were also walking. “They’re ruling out myocarditis,” she said through tears. We weren’t doctors yet, but we already knew what that meant. She also said he was stable; the second electrocardiogram they performed showed good results. Luci had already contacted her relatives, but traveling from Apure to San Juan de los Morros wasn’t that easy, especially since they didn’t have their own vehicle; we were in charge, and her family sent some money to cover the cost of the medications they’d requested; We weren’t leaving that day—that much was clear to us. Around 6 p.m., Mariana’s parents arrived. Doña Ana, her mother, was the most distraught, but we calmed her down a bit by telling her that her condition was stable; “Did she tell you she was feeling sick? I spoke with her this morning, and she didn’t mention feeling unwell,” she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “No, she got up as usual,” Lucí replied.

“If only someone would come out,” we kept repeating every minute, until one of the doors opened. The guard at the door shouted, “Family of Mariana Ortiz!” The three of us jumped up at the same time. Her father was outside, smoking a cigarette, but they were only letting one person through—of course, it was her mother; Lucí and I were left there anxiously waiting. A long time passed, and the woman came out. By then, Mariana’s father was already in the room with us. “Mariana is feeling better now,” he said in a voice that tried to sound gentle. “Mariana is strong; she’s aware of everything. Her eyes are half-open, and she looks at me as if she wants to speak, but I think because of the medication, she couldn’t.”

I approached the woman, took her hand—it was ice-cold and trembling—then hugged her. She tried to smile, but started crying. Her husband hugged her, and we stepped back a little to give them some privacy. We also gave each other a big hug and cried with joy. After a while, we were able to go in one by one to see Mariana—of course, after her father had done so. We stayed until about midnight and then went to rest. The next day, Mariana was discharged; she was fine, but since that day she’s been under the care of a cardiologist. Ever since that incident, whenever I got home, the first thing I did was check to see if there was a note on the fridge.

Allí estaba sentada en aquella banca fría, mirando un reloj que no avanzaba; al menos eso sentía yo. Llevaba 2 horas frente aquella puerta de vidrio, que casi todos los días cruzaba, pero esa vez, me toco estar del otro lado; Personas entraban y salían, dos horas y nadie nos informaba nada de Mariana; “Guarde Silencio”, decía el cartel colgado en la entrada, infinidad de veces había pasado por ese lugar y nunca me había detenido a leer ese letrero. Mariana seguía detrás de esas puertas dobles, nosotros allí seguíamos atrapados en ese "aún no sabemos nada". Me recuesto y cierro los ojos y, extrañamente, la veo sentada en la pequeña mesa de madera haciendo alguna tarea o simplemente mirando el celular, hace apenas un día, eso sucedía; Ahora estaba allí adentro tirada en una camilla, con cables conectados a un monitor y una mascarilla para proporcionarle oxígeno. A mi mente también llegaba aquella nota pegada en la nevera con el imán, era un trozo de papel arrancado de un cuaderno, con su letra torpe; “Gene, Mariana sufrió un desmayo, tratamos de reanimarla y no reacciono, la llevamos en una ambulancia al hospital.”, ese era el mensaje; Nota que me dejaron las muchachas porque días antes mi teléfono sufrió un accidente y quedo inactivo, hasta ese día aún no lo había podido reparar.

Ese día martes llegue tarde a casa, vi la nota en la nevera y no le preste atención, fui directo al baño, luego encendí el computador, allí fue que regrese a leer la nota, casi me desplome al leer su contenido; — ¿Qué le pasaría?—, me preguntaba. En un instante ya estaba cerrando la puerta, en ese momento, lamente mucho no tener mi celular, yo no caminaba, prácticamente corría, menos mal el hospital, quedaba cerca de la residencia, en pocos minutos ya estaba allá; Lucí apenas me vio, corrió hacia mí, —Yo no veo bien a mariana, Esther está adentro con ella, yo no he querido entrar—, me dijo. En ese momento me percaté de que no había traído conmigo ni la bata, ni el carnet de estudiante, tampoco podría entrar, así que nos tocó quedarnos a esperar noticias en la sala de espera; Que espera tan larga, una espera que desespera, caminábamos y volvíamos a sentarnos y nada, hasta que por fin salió Esther, se apresuró para llegar rápido hacia nosotras, que también caminábamos —Están descartando una Miocarditis —, dijo entre lágrimas. Aún no éramos médicos, pero ya sabíamos los que eso significaba, también dijo que estaba estable, el segundo electrocardiograma que le practicaron, arrojo buenos resultados. Ya Lucí, se había comunicado con sus familiares, pero viajar de apure a San Juan de los Morros, no era tan fácil, más si no contaban con vehículo propio; Nosotras estábamos a cargo, su familia transfirió algo de dinero para cubrir algunos gastos de medicinas que pidieron; De allí no nos iríamos ese día, eso estaba claro para nosotras, como a las 6 de la tarde llegaron los padres de mariana, Doña Ana su madre, era la más angustiada, pero la calmamos un poco al decirle que su estado era estable; —¿Ella les dijo que se sentía mal?, en la mañana hable con ella y no refirió ningún malestar—, dijo, mientras lagrimas rodaban por sus mejillas; —No, ella se levantó con normalidad—, respondió Lucí.

Si tan solo saliera alguien, repetíamos a cada minuto, hasta que se abre una de las puertas, el vigilante de la puerta grito “Familiares de Mariana Ortiz”, las tres nos levantamos al mismo tiempo, el padre se encontraba fuera, fumando un cigarrillo, pero solo dejaban pasar a una persona, por su puesto fue su madre; Allí quedamos Lucí y yo ansiosas esperando, paso un largo rato y salió la señora, para ese entonces ya el papá de Mariana estaba en la sala con nosotras, —Mariana ya se siente mejor —dice con una voz que intenta ser suave, —.Mariana es fuerte, está consiente de todo, tiene los ojos entreabiertos y me miro con ganas de hablar, pero creo que por la medicación, no pudo hacerlo—.

Me le acerque a la señora, le tome la mano, la tenía helada y temblorosa, luego la abrace, ella intento sonreír, pero se puso a llorar, el esposo la abrazo y nosotras, nos alejamos un poco para darles privacidad; También nos dimos un abrazo fuerte y lloramos de alegría, al rato pudimos pasar de una a una a mirar a Mariana, claro después que su padre lo hizo; Estuvimos como hasta la media noche y nos fuimos a descansar, al siguiente día Mariana fue dada de alta, estaba bien, pero desde ese día lleva un control con un cardiólogo. Desde aquel incidente siempre que llegaba a casa, lo primero que hacía, era revisar si había alguna nota en la nevera.

This is my entry in The Inkwell Combined Writing Prompt #25 ~ Fiction or Creative Nonfiction

The cover was created in canva

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)