I wake up, sprawled on a waiting room couch
and see Jesse, on another couch
lying on his back
one arm slung across his face
the other hanging to the floor

I don’t know what to say to him

we go looking for news on Angie
and are surprised to find that
we can visit her now
Jesse and I go in together
maybe hoping
our uncertainty will be halved

her room is a canary yellow
with bright white flowers
painted above a green strip of grass
reminding me that even the hospital
considers her a child

she doesn’t smile when she sees us
though perhaps for different reasons
and begins to cry

Jesse and I move to either side of her bed
each taking a hand
and it takes forever for her to speak
and when she does
all she says is, “I can’t do this.”
over and over

I want to reassure her,
tell her that she can do anything
but what comes out instead
is, “I’m sorry.”

for pushing her
that her life is forever changed
for not being able to help
for so many things