Is it just my imagination, or is there a flicker of motion in her eyes?
“What about Sexy Babe?” I ask her, picking up her phone, and using her finger to unlock it. “I’ll text him right now and try to set up a hot date for you. Okay, it may be a while before you’re in any condition to enjoy a hot date… but let’s see if he’s interested, right?”
Again, I see some motion in her eyes. “I’m texting him right now,” I tell her, while slowly reading out the words I write. “Hey, Sexy Babe. What are you doing next week? I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather, but I would love to catch up and grab drinks as soon as possible!”
I think I see a twitch in her fingers—I think maybe I’m annoying her back into consciousness.
“How does that sound? A bit too eager? I mean, you’re the expert. You could always wake up and tell me how to properly sext your boyfriend, so I don’t screw it up.” I tell her. My finger slips, and I accidentally send the text. Whoops. Oh well, maybe it’s a good thing.
Maybe it’s a good thing for me, also, if some incredibly hot guy comes to see her when she wakes up, holding a bouquet of roses. I stare at the phone, hoping he will message back, but there is nothing. That’s disappointing.
“Okay, Evie, it’s time for some real talk,” I say quietly. I’m a little scared to speak openly about my relationship with Gabriel now that she’s not under such heavy sedation, but I think it just might do the trick. “If you don’t wake up right now, Sleeping Beauty, some lucky girl is going to steal your prince. I’m not saying who, exactly. But Gabriel is really handsome, rich, charming, sweet—are you really just going to lie down and die, and let him be stolen away without a fight?”
She makes a noise. Just a low, groggy moan. But this time it’s for real. I see it and hear it. She’s trying to speak. She’s trying to respond to me. I squeeze her hand, and I’m almost sure that I feel her retuning the pressure.
My heart soars.
I quickly grab my phone and text Veronica. Get over here now! I think she’s waking up.
Then I realize I’m still using Yvette’s phone case. I don’t know why I ever borrowed it, but I don’t need it any longer. I remove the silver protector, and place it back on her phone where it belongs. That ventilator might have been the only thing keeping her alive this whole time—but my cell phone was the only thing keeping me alive.
I somehow feel strong enough to breathe on my own, and stand on my own two feet—and I want the same for her.
“You’re going to be okay, Evie. You’re going to recover from this—you’re going to be amazing. I promise.”
When the door to her hospital room flies open, I turn with a smile, expecting to see Veronica.
It’s Doctor Mike. “What are you doing?” he sighs with annoyance. “More nail polish? I told you that she’s not going to wake up.”
“No, she is. You don’t understand. Her GSC is improving. She’s making noises and she squeezed my hand.”
The doctor moves forward to examine the patient, and checks her reflexes. “I don’t know what to say, Milla—I think you’re just seeing things. Maybe she’s just in pain, and showing signs of discomfort—she probably needs heavier sedation.” He moves to give her more drugs, but I stand in the way.
Veronica chose that moment to enter the room. “How’s she doing?”
“Better!” I insist. “Mike, please listen to me. I think we can wean her off the ventilator. I think she’s a good candidate for extubation.”
Mike stares at me in disbelief. “Milla, I have so much more knowledge and experience than you do. I know you want to be hopeful, I know that you’ve developed some kind of attachment to the patient—but it’s just not your call to make.”
“Please,” I say desperately, pointing. “Just look at her. Listen to her. Evie—can you try to talk again? Tell him. Say something if you think you’re strong enough to get off this fucking machine!”
Yvette groans again, and it’s not just a random sound. It’s clearly an intelligent response, and she’s trying to form words. She’s fighting for her life. Fighting for her freedom. Fighting for her man.
“Okay, I heard that too,” Veronica says, stepping forward. “Milla’s not crazy, Mike. I must admit, I thought she was a little off her rocker, but we both clearly heard that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mike says quietly, studying his patient. “She’s still not scoring high enough on the coma scale. Her eyes aren’t opening. Her hands aren’t moving.”
“Evie,” I say softly, moving to her side and squeezing her arm. “Can you open your eyes? Can you move your hands?”
We all stare at her left hand, which is nearest to us. Her fingers barely, just barely twitch.
“It’s not enough,” Mike says. “You girls both know that. Some people just never come off the respirators. We have to stop hoping, and give up on her. Just leave her there.”
“Wait,” I say, staring hard at her hand. There’s a slender tan line on her ring finger, from years of wearing a wedding band… given to her by the same man who put a ring on my finger. That thought makes me feel a bit sick. Where is her ring now? Why did she stop wearing it? I touch her arm. “Evie, please move your hand, if you can. Use all your strength to move your hand—I know you’re strong. Stronger than anyone thinks. You can do this.”
Her hand trembles slightly. All the fingers have a small spasm.
I say softly, “Think about Gabriel.” Because it’s probably what I would want to hear to fight my way out of a coma. I know that she’s capable. I just need to make Mike see this. And if he doesn’t, I’ll go to the head of the department—or the ethics committee. Someone will have to believe me and understand. With more conviction, I nearly shout at her, “Do it for Gabriel! Don’t you want to see your husband again?”
Her hand suddenly moves. It really moves, and all her fingers flex. She clenches them into a fist.
“Oh my god,” Mike says with shock. “You’re right. She’s going to make it. We’ll have to wean her off, cautiously.”
“Holy crap, Milla,” Veronica whispers.
I lift my chin to make eye contact with my friend, and she looks almost horrified. Like she knows better than I do, just how difficult things are about to get for me.
I swallow.
What the hell have I done?
Chapter 12
It took Gabriel fifteen days to say that he loved me. Six days for me to read every book he’s written. It took us only eight days to start taking our clothes off on video call together. It took about three weeks before we started seriously talking about having children together. It was a month before he proposed to me.
It took Yvette forty-seven days to come off the ventilator, and start breathing on her own again.
To say that I’m freaking out would be an understatement. I told Gabriel that things were looking good, but I didn’t tell him how good. Yvette was groggy for a few days and unable to really speak or eat on her own, so I wasn’t sure whether she was actually going to make a complete recovery. I actually used her phone to text Sexy Babe a few more times, desperately hoping he would show up to take care of her.
But there was no response.
And today… she’s finally talking.
“Oh, god,” Evie says hoarsely. “It feels so good to not have a tube shoved down my throat.”
“Were you aware of it the whole time? Was it painful?” I ask her.
“No, not really,” she groans. “I mean, the last few days have been awful, but otherwise… I was mostly knocked out.”
“Do you remember any of it?”
“Not much,” she responds. Then she hesitates. “I just kept having these horrible nightmares.”
My heart skips a beat. “What did you dream?”
“Oh… I don’t really want to talk about it. But it was so realistic.” She shudders and makes a face of disgust. “So dreadful.”
“About Gabriel?” I ask, feeling guilt wash over me.
“No. It
was… just a really, really awful dream. Terrifying. Let’s just change the subject, please.” She has a small coughing fit, but then smiles. “I love my toenail polish. Thank you so much for that.”
“Of course,” I say softly. “I just wanted you to feel pretty when you woke up.”
“I do… I just wish I could walk! I guess those toes will be rather useless for a while.”
“You’re young and strong, you’ll probably get back your mobility quickly,” I assure her. Although I have no idea of whether she’ll ever walk again, and how long it will take.
“That’s a pretty ring, Milla,” she says suddenly. “Were you wearing one before?”
Shit. I forgot to take the damn ring off today. “No, it’s… it’s new,” I tell her weakly. “I just got engaged.”
“Oh! Congratulations,” she says. She stares at the ring for a moment. “That’s so funny—my mother-in-law used to wear something quite similar.”
Fuck.
“I always liked that style of ring,” she says with a wistful smile. “My engagement ring was just butt-ugly. I flushed it down the toilet. I made Gabe buy me another.”
I blink. “Down the toilet? Like… after he proposed?”
“No, no, no. Everything was lovely for the first two years. But when I caught him cheating on me, the first time…”
“The first time?” I say, choking on the words. “So… he did it… often?”
“Yes, of course. You know what French men are like. Mistresses everywhere, sticking it in everything that moves. But I was a major bitch too, and I made sure to cheat on him just as much as he cheated on me. For revenge. What else can a girl do?”
I stare at her with surprise, feeling more awkward than ever. I suddenly feel like such a fraud, wearing this ring. I don’t know the first thing about Gabriel. Am I just another mistress? Just another affair? But what if I end up being his wife, and he cheats on me as much as he cheated on her? I feel sick.
“It’s not that bad, darling,” Yvette says with a weak smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. But here I am, alive and well, thanks to you. Nothing is bad, today.”
“That’s right,” I say, with a nod of female solidarity. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“And my toes are pretty.” She coughs for a few seconds. “Did you talk to Gabe at all while I was out?”
“Well… you know. Just a little bit,” I lie.
She tries to laugh, but her body is still too weak to laugh properly. “He’s such a pain in the ass, isn’t he?”
“He’s not that bad.”
“Really?” she says with surprise. “You must be the only person on the planet who thinks so. I should hire you as my assistant, so you can just communicate with him instead of me. You would be saving me thousands of headaches.”
I am about to protest that Gabriel is a joy to speak with, and has never caused me a headache… but I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah… there were some big headaches. That assistant job would need to pay quite well.”
She smiles. “My idiot man. Can you call him for me? Please.”
“Sure. But what about Sexy Babe?” I ask her hopefully.
“Oh, no. He’s nothing. Just a guilty pleasure. Please, Milla—don’t tell my husband about Sexy Babe, okay? Let’s keep it just between us girls.”
I flinch at the familiar way she says ‘my husband’. Pain shoots through my spine, like icicles. Her husband. My fiancé. Apparently a huge cheater, and someone I barely know at all. “Of course not. I would never tell. Girl code.”
“Thank you,” she says happily. “You’re the best.”
Oh, god. The guilt is so bad.
As I pick up her phone to call Gabriel, I tell myself that it must be different between us. There must be something special about our relationship, and maybe he wouldn’t cheat on me. Is that naïve and asinine? I just want to believe it so badly.
I realize that I video called him without asking her if she preferred voice or video. I’ve just been so used to video calling him that it’s second nature.
He answers quickly.
“Milla,” he says with surprise. “Are you—”
“No,” I say quickly, cutting him off abruptly. “It’s your wife. She’s able to speak now.”
My face lingers on his for a second. There is fear and panic in both of our eyes.
He looks like he doesn’t even know me.
“Evie?” he asks, as I turn the camera toward her. “Oh, god, Evie. You’re finally awake.”
She bursts into tears. “Gabe! I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart.”
“Can I please come home? Please?” she begs.
“Of course, Evie. Of course. I told your mom and dad that you were recovering, and they were so happy. They’ve been trying to get you home for weeks, but the doctors wouldn’t let us move you. I am sure you can come home now as soon as possible, now that you can breathe on your own. Your parents are preparing a room for you right now. They can’t wait to have their little girl back.”
“My parents? No, Gabe. I want to stay with you. Please.”
My hand trembles slightly, holding up her cell phone.
I can hear the hesitation in his voice. “Oh—sure, we can make that happen. If that’s what you want. I’ll tell your parents to drive up to Paris, then, and they’ll be waiting for you here whenever you can make it home. I’ll prepare the guest rooms.”
“I can’t wait to see them,” Yvette says. Then she switches over to French to say sweet and loving, intimate things to him. I understand most of the words, but she’s pretty fast, and I don’t get it all. But I can see the tears in her eyes, and I can hear the need in her voice.
She is telling him she loves him and wants to be close to him again. And reconcile their separation. That this whole near-death experience has really changed her and made her realize what’s important.
Oh my god.
“There’s no time to waste then,” Gabriel says. “I’ll send the plane, and we’ll have you safely home tomorrow. I know that a lot of rehabilitation will be required, but you can do all of that right here in Paris. Don’t worry about anything, Evie. I’ll take care of it all.”
It’s killing me a little bit. I feel like I’m losing everything in slow motion, and I have to sit here with a smile and let it happen. Because it’s the right thing to do.
I somehow forgot that Evie is a French citizen. She can get into the country to be with him… and live with him. In their home. While I’m stuck here on this side of the ocean. She’ll have the upper hand. All the advantages of playing on her home turf. She’ll have her body next to his. Years of history and familiarity. She’ll be able to share meals with him, even if she needs to be spoon fed.
When I told her to wake up and fight for him… it didn’t occur to me that I had almost zero fighting chance. As long as she can breathe… she wins.
Maybe I didn’t think this through completely.
I have to sit there and hold the phone for several more minutes as they say loving and beautiful things to each other—and it’s torture, and I want to scream. I have to shut my eyes, because I can’t bear to see her looking at him like that, with such pure love and devotion. I want to rip my eyeballs out. When they finally say goodbye, I feel like my heart has just been put through a meat grinder. It’s a far cry from the angry cursing that Gabriel greeted her with, the first time I heard his voice.
Something has changed.
“He’s being so sweet, today,” Yvette says happily as she lets her head roll back onto her pillow. “I’m exhausted now, Milla. I think I need to sleep.”
“Of course,” I tell her, standing up, and placing her phone down. I fluff her pillow a little to offer her more comfort, even though my hands are shaking. “Rest well.”
I am walking out of her room and fighting against nausea and heartbreak when my own phone buzzes in my pocket. I lift it out to read it, feeling afraid. What if it’s a goodbye text? A
my-wife-is-alive-and-you’ve-served-your purpose-of-temporarily-entertaining-me-so-I’m-done-with-you text?
It’s neither of those things.
Give me time, Milla, he writes. I have to help her. I promise I’ll fix this.
Of course. He has to. What else can he do?
He must be there for her now.
Don’t give up on us, he says. It’s going to be difficult, but I’m still here. I’m still committed to us. I promise you that.
Okay, Gabe, is all I can manage to text back.
I trust him. I’ll wait as long as it takes. She needs him more than I do, in this moment.
Well, I won’t wait forever—but I’ll wait for a very long time.
I know he’ll take care of her, and give her everything she needs to recover. The same way I have been trying my best to take care of her. It’s just the right thing to do—being a good human being.
Our happiness can wait. Our love is secondary.
Her health comes first.
I can be strong and survive this.
It’s not about one moment—it’s about how it all ends.
Chapter 13
“She’s arriving at the house in a few minutes,” Gabriel says to me over the phone. “As you know… France is on lockdown and there’s a curfew, so I’m working from home and barely going outside. Her parents will be staying here also, so it will be a full house. I won’t be able to call you much anymore.”
“I understand.”
“I just want to be respectful to her, while she’s living here again,” he explains.
“I know, Gabe.”
“She never sticks around for very long. She usually gets sick of me and leaves me after a few weeks or months,” he says. “Evie can’t stand to be in one place for too long.”
“Well, it might be a bit different now that she physically can’t walk or leave you,” I point out.
“That’s true. It could be different. Milla, can we please do a video call? I want to see your face, live. It might be the last time we can do that for a while.”
“I’m sorry… I’m not at my best right now.” I glance to the side and see the dozens of crumpled snotty tissues surrounding me. My face is also covered in tears and snot. Real classy.
The Sick Wife Page 6