The doctor stood near the nurses’ station. “I’m going to head home. Mom’s going to come stay with Theo. I’d like to take care of a few things and speak with the kids. They should all go in and see him before...” I didn’t meet his eyes as I spoke to him. I couldn’t. He’d see the truth behind mine if I did. “You’re right. It is time, as you say, but...please give me a few days.”
On autopilot, I drove home, thoughts swirling in my head, everything I might say to Theo if he woke up. Only after I’d reached my driveway did I give in to the sobs threatening to overtake my body the entire way home. With white knuckles, I gripped the steering wheel and then placed my forehead against the cool, hard leather. It didn’t matter what I said in my head; it was likely Theo would never hear those words. After a few moments, I reached for a tissue, wiped away my tears, and gathered my purse and mug. Charlie and Delia weren’t home from school yet, and Lexie was out with Brooke for the afternoon. If all went well, I’d have a few hours to myself before I shattered the worlds of my children.
As if not to disturb the peace even further, I tiptoed into the house, placed my things in the kitchen, and meandered to the bedroom. The open arms of the rocking chair in the corner of the room gathered me close and helped me fall asleep. Andrew found me there later, and like the gallant man I knew him to be, did nothing but pick me up, hold me tight, and lull me back to sleep.
Chapter 35: Theo
Darkness, complete and suffocating, for hours, too many to count. Time could be anything right now. Or nothing. Time. What is time? How much time has passed? And what is darkness, but the absence of light? And then, a single pinprick of white, until the edges of blackness began to recede, and light filtered in, little bursts of color against a backdrop of ink. Flashes like those in Afghanistan, but this...this place...wasn’t it, I couldn’t be back there, right? The noises didn’t match. Instead of a rush of thunder and cacophony of screams, a gentle lull, a steady clack, a swish, and a squeal lingered nearby. Try as I might to open my eyes, they stayed shut. Willing my mind to make connections, everything diffused away.
Later: Time standing still, speeding up, slowing down; long time, no time, did time exist? What was this place, and when would I go back home? Could I go back home? More flashes, red, green, purple, black, twisting in front of me, hammering me from all sides. That damn ink again, pushing at me, my chest, my heart almost exploding inside my body. A shroud overtook me, and I breathed again.
Voices—high-pitched, low-pitched, young, old. Snatches of whispers. If I craned my neck, could I hear them better? Did they know I was awake? What did I look like to them? A jab to the arm, fucking painful, and a milky white shroud flooded my senses. Peace. Quiet.
I sat up, taking in the gray clouds lingering in the air. Mountains hovered in the background; small wisps of smoke curled up, dispersing as they rose. In the distance, people approached. Sadie, Charlie, Delia, and Lexie. “I’m here!” My voice reverberated off the scattered boulders. My family marched forward, faces unseeing, and passed right through me, despite my waving arms. When I turned around, they’d long gone into the mist, dissolving into a million tiny particles.
Then: The fuzzy edges pulled back and he was there. Charlie. In a room with white walls, Christmas cards attached. A framed picture of us—Sadie, the kids, me—stood on the end table. And there I was too, in a bed, covered with white sheets and a blue blanket. Eyes closed, purple circles like twin moons underneath them.
“How’s he doing?” Charlie’s voice, tinny and quiet, lured me in, and my view shifted, as if a lens had been changed. Now Sadie, standing next to Charlie. Me—my soul?—in front of them both. Did they see me?
“There haven’t been any changes, Charlie,” Sadie said as she rubbed the arm of the man—me—who lay in bed.
“He’s not getting worse, is he?”
“No.”
“But he’s not getting any better, either, right?”
I tried to laugh, but no sound came out of my mouth. Charlie had always been so astute.
“You’re old enough for the truth,” Sadie said.
“No, he’s not!” I yelled. Or tried to.
In slow motion, Charlie moved toward me, and I threw my hands in the air, covering my face, ready for the impact. But in a single breath, he walked through me—completely unencumbered—to the cards on the wall.
“Why can’t you feel me, Charlie? I shouted. I’m right here!”
Charlie turned back to Sadie, tears on his lower eyelids. “I thought we’d have a Christmas miracle, but it’s past Christmas. And New Year’s has already happened too. I’ve hoped and prayed for Dad to wake up, but I doubt it’ll happen.”
Sadie crumbled into the chair next to my bed, gasping as she wept, extending a hand to Charlie, who tugged her fingers in his grip.
“When you picked me up from school and said we’d be going to the hospital today, you meant it as a time for me to say goodbye, didn’t you?”
Goodbye? What did he mean?
The scene flickered for a moment, and I tumbled next to Sadie, crouching on the floor, trying to grasp her hand. Like a holograph, points of color shimmered as my essence moved through her body.
“Mom, I’m not sure how to say goodbye to him or what I even want to say, but I’ll try. Can I climb up on the bed with him for a few minutes?”
“Yes!” I yelled. “Yes!” But Charlie didn’t hear me, and darkness fell again.
Finally: A familiar weight, the scent of a boy. Back in my body, I felt it all. A warm hand against my cheek and along my chin. Charlie on the bed, tears on his face, redness to his nose and eyes. Is this how he felt, so full of abject sadness? What was he thinking now? The torment I felt inside—did it compare to what he felt? He rested his head on my chest. Did he feel it rising and falling?
He moved his mouth, and I leaned in to hear the words. Nothing. But Sadie left the room then, a haunted look in her eyes.
A heat burned within me, tremors erupted along my spine, goose bumps on my arms and legs. Straining to hear, more words, more nothing. I watched as Charlie looked around the room. What did he see? My essence moved to linger right behind his back, taking in the view he had: white walls, beige tile, and a corkboard full of medical information. A bathroom with a wide door, but one I probably didn’t use. A large, plate glass window that looked out on a cloudless winter sky. I did a double take. The curtains were closed, and yet, I saw behind them, a gray of both building and sky, a reflection of winter sun that seemed bright, almost too bright. But what did it matter if the light came in? My eyes weren’t open.
As if Charlie knew my thoughts, he got up from the bed, opened the curtains, and then curled up again next to the man in the bed. As he settled in, the sleeve of my gown lifted. Charlie grabbed my forearm and traced his fingers over it. Tears fell onto my skin, the bed, Charlie, the floor. A trickle, then a stream, then a tidal wave coursed up the walls, reaching the top of my mattress, my head, covering my form. My body did nothing, but I pushed against the force, and I was snapped back into my skin. Cracks spread from my toes to my knees to my middle to my neck to my face. Deafening silence and darkness once again.
Then, cutting through the muted world, a voice so sweet and clear once again, Charlie’s.
“Dad.” He whispered into my ear. “It’s me, Charlie. In case you didn’t recognize my voice. You can’t see me right now. Or maybe you can. I want to tell you I love you.”
More tears began to drop onto the sheets, and Charlie pushed his head against my chest, much like he did when he was little. I tried to remember the days when I was at home with him, playing ball or listening to his Minecraft stories. I’d always told Charlie to concentrate on something else when he was upset. Would he do that now? If I willed him to envision his friends
or Big Nate or Walloon Lake or summer camp, would those thoughts help him get through this? Would it help me? A flicker of Charlie’s face. His body. Me as a young kid.
“Okay, Dad, I’m ready.” Charlie lifted his head again and looked at me. Everyone said he and I were two peas in a pod. Would he look like me when he got older too? I touched his cheek with my ghostly fingers and moved them toward his chin, just as Charlie did the same to me.
“I like feeling the prick of your stubble against my fingertips, Dad. It means you’re still alive.” Charlie swallowed and sniffed and then continued. “This is going to sound weird, but Mom said you might be hanging on for something. She didn’t tell me, but I heard her say it to the nurse. I’m not sure, but are you waiting for me to say it’s okay to go? Because it is okay.”
Go? Go Where? I reached for him again, my fingers still moving through his flickering image. A thud sounded in my ears, covering the words that came next. I pulled back and watched again as Charlie lay his head against the chest of the man—me—in the hospital bed. Tears ran from his eyes, landed on my blanket.
A snippet: “...you’re tired...”
Another: “I miss you...”
He began to fade then, first his fingers, then his arm, his shoulder, trunk, and down his legs, crumbling to dust and floating away, into a haze hanging before me. Another tightness gripped my chest, making me gasp for air that didn’t exist.
And then, from out of the haze, his voice one more time: “No matter what, Dad, you’ll always be my hero.”
Chapter 36: Sadie
The shrill beep of my cell phone reverberated against the tile of the kitchen counter and interrupted my morning bowl of toasted oats.
“Sadie?” Doc’s familiar voice said. “We need you at the hospital.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “What’s wrong?” I was finishing breakfast, with plans to head over in a few hours to say my final goodbye.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Theo woke up.”
I stumbled from my seat, ran up the stairs to Charlie’s room, and gently laid a hand on his arm. He’d only been in a light sleep, for with a few taps of my fingernails against his skin, he blinked his eyes several times.
“I need you to hold down the fort until Brooke arrives.” Confusion crossed Charlie’s face, and I explained about the phone call. “I don’t have any details.” Whispering against his forehead in a rush of excitement, I then placed a kiss there. “But I promise to call as soon as possible.”
. . . . .
At the moment I left the hospital elevator and entered the hallway leading to Theo’s room, an overwhelming surge of love for Theo coursed through me. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached his door, both fear and longing warring with the other. I didn’t know what I’d say or what Theo would say or how the next few months would go or how arduous of a journey it would be, but once I grabbed his hand, I had no intention of letting go of it until he was ready.
The sharp squeak of my shoes against the floor fought for attention with the hospital’s daily grind and alerted Theo to my presence. A slow smile stretched across his tired face, and he waved his fingers, urging me to go forward. Slipping onto the seat of my chair, I threaded my hand with his and squeezed. His hand had felt so cold for so long, the sudden warmth against my palm surprised me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, and I sat there, watching Theo as he watched me. Once I’d composed myself a little, I dared to speak.
“How’re you doing?”
“I’ve been better. But I can’t complain. Though a sip of water would be good.”
A cup sat on the table next to his bed, and I held the straw to his lips. “Here. It’s good to see you awake.”
He swallowed. “Is it?”
I understood what he was asking. Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his forehead. “It is. We’re going to figure this out, and yes, I’m glad you’re back.”
While the nurses and doctors took over for the next few hours and swept me to the side, I texted Andrew, my mom, Kate, and Jackie and told them the news. That day, as I sat in the hospital room and Theo’s face flushed with color we hadn’t seen in a long time, peace, contentment, even hope, stirred within me. The road would be long, and we’d have bumps, all of us. But we’d figure out our way around them, together.
A fortnight passed before he was able to leave the hospital, and during that time, our friends and family worked as a team, despite the cold weather, to help Theo, to help us. Jackie and Pete, Kate, my mom, coworkers of Theo’s, even Andrew, drew up and executed plans so that from the moment Theo stepped foot out of the hospital, life would run more smoothly.
A two-bedroom house had been rented three streets over from ours. The group had arranged for furniture and appliances, and the kitchen had been fully stocked with everything Theo might need. They’d also included a computer system, for when Theo returned to his full-time work as a web developer, as well as toys, books, and beds for the kids. Upon hearing the details, Theo smiled. “I don’t exactly know what to say,” he muttered.
I didn’t have a reply.
But with all the buzz about Theo and his recovery, I may have pushed Andrew to the side, and I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood. Our texts still connected us and meant something significant, at least on my end, and several of our exchanges contained more heat than I’d remembered. But I hadn’t spoken to him specifically about our future, about us, about our expectations. I had to speak to him in person—not between furniture shopping or painting shifts—and owed him that much, at the minimum. After a quick phone call, he said he’d meet me in the hospital courtyard after work the evening before Theo was due to be released. The somewhat neutral setting he chose worried me.
When Andrew approached, a tight anxiety seized my soul, and I stood from the wrought iron bench. We’d known each other long enough to recognize certain tells, and his smile, normally wide and round, twitched at the corners, a true sign indicating unease. And when he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to my forehead in a comforting gesture I knew so well, my unease skyrocketed.
He stepped back and gestured for me to sit once again. “Sadie, I’m happy for you, for Theo...really.”
“Really?”
He nodded his head and paused before he spoke. “It seems so odd to be having this conversation. Here and now. I’ve had a lot of time to think over these last few weeks. Even with this...this thing between us...you still loved Theo.”
“You thought that?”
“Yes.” His breath came out in a puff of icy air. “I didn’t want to admit it.”
“Oh.” The zipper of my parka held my interest, as looking at Andrew was difficult.
“And if I were in the same situation, with a person who needed me and years of love behind us, I’d fight for my marriage too.” Andrew extended his hand to my shoulder and squeezed it. The gesture could have imparted concern for a friend and nothing more.
I cocked my head and looked at him, at his eyes, at his soul. I wanted him, plain and simple. Yes, I still loved Theo, and yes, I’d fight for him to some degree—his health and happiness were important to me—but I was ready. I’d made my decision. I wanted a future with Andrew. Did he not understand?
“We should have had this conversation before now,” I said.
“Yes.” Andrew shrugged. “But I was being selfish. I’ve enjoyed every moment of being with you. You made me feel more alive than I have in a long time.” He quirked his lips, and his hand fell to his lap.
“I...I can say the same.” A heat spread through my chest, and I looked around the courtyard. In the spring, the space would be overrun with every type of flower imaginable, and the birds would flit in the flowing fountain. But now,
the harshness of winter’s reign belied the life that had just come back to me.
“Then maybe that day at Bloom Market was supposed to happen, and we can both walk away from each other as better people.” Andrew’s flushed face and tentative smile contrasted with the muted gray tones of the evening.
“That’s a rosy way of looking at the world.” A tear sprang to the corner of my eyelid, but I willed it away. It was clear he was confused, unable to understand exactly how I felt.
“Yep, but it’s the only way I can deal right now.” He nudged my shoulder with his but didn’t linger. “This hurts...this nebulous area we’re in. If you didn’t know it before, I wanted you to hear it now: I love you.”
Andrew’s words floored me, and the blooming hope in the pit of my stomach unfurled. His moment of truthfulness deserved one in return. “I...I’m not—”
Andrew held up his hand. “I needed to get that out there. I don’t expect to hear it in return. But I didn’t want to let you go without telling you. Now—” Andrew lifted himself from the bench, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up with him. “Go back to Theo, tell him I said hello and welcome back. We’ll figure out how we all fit together another time.”
“Shit, Andrew.” Tears streamed down my face. “You’re more like your mother than I ever realized.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Yes, but what if...we walked away together, as better people?”
Under the dim light, Andrew’s chocolate brown eyes twinkled, much like they had the first day I met him. “Is that possible?”
Visions swam in my head: a house full of children, his and mine; holidays with Pickles, Theo, Jackie, Pete, Clara, and Kate; vacations at Walloon Lake, high school graduations, college diplomas; Theo and Andrew, passing a new grandbaby from one to the other. Maybe I was being naïve, but somewhere deep within, I knew I was being realistic. All of that could happen if we wanted it to.
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