Chapter 3

Somewhere in the void I heard her voice.

"Carlos ... Carlos ... here I am. I'm right here."

But I couldn't see anything. And I couldn't tell where her voice was coming from.

"Carlos ... she needs your help. She's in pain. She needs you. Go to her."

"Jazz ... where are you? What's happening? Where are we?"

"I'm right here. I'm near you. I love you."

"Oh Jazz. I love you, too. How come I can't see you?"

"I don't know. I can't see you either. But I can feel you. I know you're there."

"Who should I go see? Who is 'she'?"

"I don't know. But I can feel her pain. It's pain for you. She needs you. I know that."

"But I want only you, Jazz. I want you forever."

"It's not forever for you yet. It is for me, but not for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm supposed to be here, but you're not ready yet."

"Where is here? Ready for what?"

"It's nowhere ... and everywhere ... I don't know. Ready for forever."

"Where is forever?"

"It's where I'm going."

"I want to go with you."

"You can't go with me. I'm sorry baby."

"I love you, Jazz."

"I'll always love you, Carlos. I have to go now. Can you hear them?"

"Don't leave me. Hear who?"

"They're beautiful. They're so perfect."

"Who are they?"

"When you're ready, come to me. I'll wait for you."

"Don't leave me, Jazz."

"Go to her. She needs you. She loves you."

Her voice was slowly fading.

"Jazz ... Jazz, I love you. Don't go."

"They're so beautiful, so perfect."

"Jazz..."

"Come to me when it's time."

I could hardly hear her last words.

"Jazz? Jazz?"

Nothing. Only the darkness and silence.

"Carlos, can you hear me?"

"Jazz?" But it wasn't her voice. It was another voice, strangely familiar.

"No, sweetheart. Not Jazz. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

I heard sobbing. Then more silence.

Something was touching my hand. It was warm and soft. It was a hand, a female hand. But it wasn't Jazz's hand. It was someone else. I had the sense that the hand had been there for a long time. But I didn't know how long that was.

I heard more sobbing. Then more silence. Then more sobbing. But always the hand was there. Maybe I was dead and this was limbo. It didn't seem like heaven. At least not the heaven they tell us about when we're kids.

Then I remembered what Jazz had said: "Go to her. She needs you." Maybe the hand belonged to whoever 'she' was. How do I find out? I know. I should open my eyes. How do I do that? I can't see anything in this void. I just will my eyes to open.

Light! I see rays of light! I see someone. Who are you? Where is this place? Blonde hair hanging down. Head lowered. I can't see a face. An arm. Female. Tanned. A hand. Thin fingers, graceful. Holding my hand. Her body shaking. She's crying. The sobbing I'd heard earlier.

The room. The light. The smell of medicine and soap. The window. Drapes closed. My chest. All white. Yes. My chest. My chest. Sledge hammer. Asian. Jazz. My beautiful Jazz.

It all came back so suddenly. I relived the scene in the church a hundred times in the space of a few seconds.

"Oh my Jazz. My beautiful Jazz." I began crying and shaking. I squeezed the hand holding mine. The woman looked up. Her face was stained with tears. Her eyes were red and swollen. It was Lauren.

"I'm so sorry, Carlos. I'm so sorry."

Lauren grabbed my hand with both of hers and put her head down on it. I could feel her hot tears as they rained down onto the back of my hand. I could feel her lips as she kissed my hand over and over.

"Lauren ... Lauren," was all I could think of to say. But I was confused, both from the memory of where I had been, and why Lauren was here right now.

And where had I been? Why was Jazz there? Where was she now? Why was Lauren here? She looked exactly like she did the last time I saw her a year or so ago. I couldn't really remember when that was or how long ago.

Then it came to me. It was just about a year ago I watched as Lauren left for the last time. I remembered how long I had continued to love her, to miss her, to want to go find her. Until I met Jazz. Jazz resurrected me from the dead. And now she was dead. She had to be. All that blood. I saw the vacant stare of her eyes. I saw the menacing stare of the Asian guy. Who was he? Why did he do that?

The tears came in rivers, lots of them. I started to cry in great heaves of my chest, gasping for breath between the waves of tears. Pain! My chest was on fire. It hurt so badly. But I couldn't stop the heaves or the waves.

Lauren looked up at me, her own face awash in tears and pain.

"Oh Carlos! I'm so sorry." She put her face next to mine, whispering in my ear, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Again and again. I could feel her hot breath on my cheek with the exclamation of her words. I could feel the wetness of her tears as they mingled with mine.

"What is she doing here?" The voice wasn't Lauren's. It was an angry voice. "No one is supposed to be here. Especially you. I'm calling security."

I looked up in time to see the backside of a woman, apparently a nurse, judging by the color of her clothes and the hat she was wearing, exiting from the room. That's where I was. I suddenly realized, although I think I knew it all along. I'm in the hospital. She was a nurse. This was a hospital room. I could smell it. The medicine, the soap.

I remembered more clearly. The sledgehammer to the chest. I'd been shot by the Asian guy. I could see the hatred in his eyes. He shot me in the chest without even blinking or hesitating. The white on my chest must be the bandages. And the pain I felt. He shot me. I felt the bullet go deep in my chest. Marty Robbins. I remembered. But why was Lauren here? And why was she, especially she, not supposed to be here?

A security guard opened the door, a stern look on his face. "Let's go, lady," he said, grabbing Lauren roughly by the arm, trying to pull her up out of the chair.

"No, no," she cried. "Don't make me leave. Carlos needs me. I have to be here. To tell him. I have to be the one to tell him. Please ... I need to stay."

"Let's go. You're leaving now," the security guard said again. As he pulled Lauren up out of the chair I felt her place something into my hand. It felt like a piece of paper.

"I'm so sorry, Carlos. Please believe me. Don't hate me," she cried as the guard pulled her out the door and into the hallway. I could hear her sobbing fade away.

"You poor thing," the nurse said as she came over to straighten out my bedding. "Are you OK, sweetie? She didn't hurt you, did she? I don't know how she got in here. But hey. You're awake now. We didn't know if or when you'd wake up. It was touch and go for a while. We thought we might lose you. But I knew you were a fighter." The nurse smiled sweetly as she placed a soothing hand on my arm.

"Where am I?" I managed to whisper. My vocal chords were very weak. I could hardly utter anything.

"You're in the hospital. St. Luke's." She had a genuine look of sadness on her face.

"How long?"

"Almost 3 weeks now. You were a mess when you came in. The doctors operated on you for 4 hours. The bullet just missed your heart. Another half inch and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Jazz," I whispered hoarsely.

"You don't know, do you honey? I'm so sorry." Tears began to form in her eyes. "She didn't make it."

I knew that already, but hearing it confirmed made the chest heaves begin to come back again. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Oh sweetie," the nurse said, grabbing my arm. "I'm so sorry." That's what Lauren kept saying. Maybe she was sorry Jazz was gone, too. "Sshh ... sshh. I'll keep that mean woman away from you. Don't you worry. She won't make it in here again. I'll see to it." The nurse laid her hand on my shoulder for a moment. She smiled, then pulled away. "I'll be back later," she said as she walked towards the door."

"Wait. Why was Lauren here?" But the nurse didn't hear my weak voice. And then I was all alone. I realized I was hooked up to a monitoring machine. An IV sticking in my arm. An O2 sensor on my finger. Blood pressure cuff wrapped around my upper arm. Monitoring nodes stuck to my chest under the bandage. A clear tube with yellow liquid in it snaked out from under the covers and disappeared over the side of the bed.

I tried to get up, but the searing pain in my chest prevented me from moving too much. I could barely move my legs. I could feel them and wiggle my toes. I realized I was naked under the covers. With my free arm, with great effort I lifted the sheet and blanket to check. My penis was all shriveled up, and the clear plastic tube I saw before was sticking out of it. A catheter, I thought, since I couldn't pee on my own. I realized I didn't know what time it was. Hell, I didn't even know what day it was. I thought about turning on the TV. I stuck the piece of paper Lauren had given me under my butt.

I must have dozed because when I opened my eyes I could see light coming in from behind the curtains. The door opened and the same nurse from before came in.

"Hi honey," she said. "How's my favorite patient this morning? You're making me look like a liar," she said laughingly. "I went to get the doctor to tell him you were finally awake, and when we came back you were sound asleep. But that's OK, you've been through a lot."

"Tell me what happened." My voice was a little stronger than it had been the last time I tried to say anything.

"Oh, honey. I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you." She had a look of real concern in her eyes.

"Tell me," I pleaded as I grabbed her hand. It was soft and warm, and she laced her fingers in mine, just like Jazz used to do when we made love. My penis surprised me by trying to rise just a little, but the catheter was preventing it from getting even a trace of hardness. I immediately felt guilty, anyway.

The nurse looked at me for a moment before speaking.

"All I know was what they said on the news. And what the policeman said when he accompanied you here to St. Luke's."

"Tell me, please. What's your name?" I realized I didn't know.

"I'm Sharon, sweetie."

"It's OK, Sharon. You can tell me."

"A guy came into the church where you and..." she paused and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "He shot everybody." Sharon could hardly get these last words out. She put her head down on my shoulder. I could feel her tears as they fell on my skin. I stroked her hair gently.

"It's OK, Sharon. Please don't cry."

"I can't help it. It was your wedding day," Sharon managed to say between sobs. "He killed her. It's not right."

"You said he shot everybody." Sharon stopped sobbing long enough to nod.

"The police said he had some kind of automatic weapon. The ones you're not supposed to have, not even here in Texas. No one's supposed to have them. They're illegal. He killed everybody. Everybody." Sharon began crying again.

I had only seen Jazz as she lay there bleeding, then staring vacantly. I remembered briefly seeing the others, none of them moving. I thought it might have been a dream. But now it didn't look like it was.

"I saw him," I said. "He pointed his gun at me and fired. I didn't have time to move. It happened so quickly. He was so angry looking. I never saw him before. I don't know who he was."

"The police killed the fucker," Sharon spat angrily. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to swear. I don't like to swear, but he deserved it after what he did. I hope he rots in hell. Her, too."

"Her too who?"

"Her. The woman who was in here. The woman I got the guard to remove." I could see the anger in Sharon's eyes.

"Why should she rot? What did Lauren do?"

"You know her?" Sharon had a look of disbelief in her eyes.

"It'd been a long time since I saw her last. But, yes, I know her. Lauren and I used to work together in California a year or so ago. What did she do?"

"Well, actually she didn't do anything. Not that anyone can prove. But her husband did."

"Huh?"

"That guy, the Asian guy who shot you. The one who killed everybody, your bride, and almost killed you. That woman was his wife."

The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks.

"What?"

"It's true. It was on the news. She was outside in the car waiting for him. She tried to leave the scene, but the police caught her and took her to jail."

"Lauren?"

"Yes. But they had to let her go. They couldn't prove she had anything to do with it. She said he was just going to go inside and talk to you. She said she didn't know he had a gun with him."

"Why would he want to talk to me? I never saw him before in my life."

I recalled that I had never met Lauren's husband. She moved to Houston with him and I had never met him, never knew he was Asian.

"She wouldn't say. I don't think she's telling the truth. I think she knew all along what he was going to do."

But that didn't fit with what I knew about Lauren. She was sweet and kind. And so smart. She'd never get mixed up in anything like this.

"And then she has the audacity to sneak in here. It's a good thing I found her. No telling what she would have done if I hadn't."

I could see by Sharon's eyes that she was sincere in what she was saying.

"But I'm here now. I'll keep her away. She won't bother you anymore."

"Listen," Sharon continued. "Promise me you'll stay awake this time. I'm going to get the doctor so he can see I'm no liar." She smiled so warmly, squeezing my hand before she turned and left the room.

I didn't know Lauren's husband was Asian. And why would he want to talk to me? And why did he shoot instead of talk? He hated me. I could see it in his eyes. He tried his best to kill me.

The door opened and a man in a white doctor's coat came in, followed closely by Sharon.

"So you are awake," he said with a smile.

"See, doctor, I told you he was awake," Sharon said.

"And I was awake when she went to get you the last time," I managed to say in an almost normal voice.

The doctor took my pulse and listened to my heart, just like they do on TV.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"My chest hurts, but otherwise I feel OK I think."

"That's normal considering what happened. We didn't think you were going to make it for a while. You're one lucky guy. And a hell of a fighter, too."

"Nurse, when was the last time his bandage was changed?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Change his bandage, then get him cleaned up a little." The doctor turned back to me. "Do you think you could eat something?"

"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, let's give it a try. I'll order some soft food to be brought to you. Nurse," he said turning to Sharon, "make sure he tolerates the food. If there are any signs of nausea, stop right away and give him some milk."

"Yes, doctor."

"Come to think of it, let's take the catheter out remove all the nodes on his chest. And the IV, too."

"Yes, doctor."

"OK. Here's where it's going to hurt. I'm removing the tube from your penis that's been draining your bladder. We installed it since you were unable to urinate any other way."

I felt Sharon grab my hand. Almost immediately I had a searing deep pain as the doctor pulled the tube out.

"OK, that's it. It's out. Nurse, could you please finish?"

"Yes, doctor," Sharon said, smiling at me.

"I'll stop back by tomorrow to see how you're getting along." He put his hand on my arm. "It's nice to have you back." The doctor smiled warmly and left the room.

"OK," Sharon said with a big smile. "Let's get a nice clean bandage on you. Hang tight. I'll be right back."

"Where would I be going?" I laughed as Sharon headed out the door.

In a few minutes she was back, carrying a bandage package, smaller than the one on my chest. She also had some gauze, some soapy looking stuff in a bottle, alcohol, a small packet of something, and a small plastic bowl.

She filled the bowl with warm water from the faucet and squirted some of the soapy liquid into it.

"This might hurt a little. I'll be as gentle as I can."

Sharon pulled at an edge of the bandage on my chest and began to pull it gently from me. Little by little it came away. Then the nodes came off, one by one.

"They shaved your chest before they operated on you. I wasn't there but I've seen this sort of thing before."

An angry round red mark was revealed as more and more of my chest was exposed. Then a small cut came into view.

"You were hit with a single bullet. It entered through your sternum and lodged just behind it, missing your heart by just a couple of centimeters. Normally they'd take the bullet out through the same hole it went in. But they didn't want to take the chance of pushing it towards your heart. So they made an incision here," she pointed at the small cut I had noticed, "and used fiber optics to guide them to remove the bullet, and the small bone fragments from your shattered sternum."

Sharon had pulled the bandage completely off, and had started to gently clean my wounds with the gauze and soapy water. She had a soft touch, and her hands and fingers felt good on my skin.

"The doctors put a patch over and under the hole in your sternum the bullet caused. The patches protect the bone as it heals, and the one underneath prevents any herniation of your heart or other thoracic organs. They did a magnificent job. Once it all heals, you will probably never notice the scars. They'll be there, but you'll only be able to see them if you look closely."

She smiled as she washed away, and dried the area with more of the gauze. And then with more of the gauze, she wiped down my entire chest with some of the alcohol. Sharon ripped off a corner of the small packet she had brought in and squeezed out some goo onto both wounds. Then with one finger she spread out the goo to cover the wounds completely, and the immediate surrounding flesh.

"This is an antibiotic ointment. We wouldn't want your wounds to get infected after the doctors did such a great job." Sharon looked at me and smiled.

"OK, now for the bandage."

She ripped open the package, then pulled some tabs off, revealing adhesive beneath.

"It's self sticking, so we don't need to use any tape or anything. That's done, now for the rest of you. I'm going to raise your bed up. Please tell me if I'm hurting you."

"OK."

Sharon grabbed the bed controls, and the head of the bed hummed its way up.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes, no problems. It doesn't hurt at all."

"Good. You know, a lot of your problem is going to be stiffness from lying around for so long. So later today or maybe tomorrow we'll get you up and see how you do. But for right now, let's get you cleaned up."

Sharon went to the sink and got a small washcloth. Dipping it into the water and then wringing it out, she pulled up one of my arms and began to wash me. She washed around the bandage, and moved to the other side of the bed to wash my other arm.

"Ok, let's see if you can lean up a little so I can wash your back. Here, I'll help you."

It was difficult because of my stiffness, just as she had said, and also because of my weakness from not having moved in 3 weeks. But I was able to slowly sit up, and stay up while Sharon quickly washed my back.

"OK, now your lower body."

I remembered I was completely naked just as Sharon yanked the covers down. Sharon's tender touch had had an effect on my penis. And while it wasn't rock hard or anything, it had still become a little engorged with blood. I felt guilty right away for my reaction while Jazz was only three weeks gone.