Come Back To Me

by Melissa Foster

“How long, Kevin?” Beau’s voice escalated. “How long was she seeing that asshole before I left town?”

  At first Kevin didn’t understand what he meant, “Before?”

  Beau turned toward him, his eyes piercing Kevin’s confidence. “How fucking long was my wife having an affair?”

  Kevin leaned back against the door, his hands warding off Beau’s encroachment of his space.

  “Beau, she wasn’t seeing him before,” his voice wavered.

  Beau grit his teeth. “How long?”

  “She thought you were dead,” Kevin said. Then louder, “Dead, man. She thought you were dead. We all did.” His chest heaved with anger, “And what about you? What’s going on with that…that woman?”

  Beau turned his fierceness on the truck, slamming his fist first into the dashboard, then the door. He yelled, “How long was she fucking that guy before I left?”

  Kevin’s confidence returned. “She wasn’t,” he yelled. “Beau, man, she wasn’t doing anything. I…I don’t think she even started seeing him until long after you were…well…after we thought you were dead.” Kevin pleaded, “C’mon, you know Tess wouldn’t do that. Beau, listen, I won’t mention that woman—Samira—but Jesus, what’s going on between you two?”

  “Keep her out of this!” Beau’s eyes were cold as stone. “Tess had a fucking baby, Kevin,” Beau punched the door with the side of his hand.

  Kevin bit back his growing fury over Samira. One thing at a time. “Beau, listen to me. That’s your baby, man, your baby!”

  Beau shook his head. “She’s twenty-six weeks, Kevin. I was gone longer than that.”

  “Then they’re wrong.” Kevin stared him down.

  “She’s less than two and a half pounds!”

  “They’re wrong.” Kevin’s anger mirrored Beau’s, though on the opposite end of the spectrum.

  ***

  It was nearly five o’clock in the morning when Beau and Kevin arrived in the NICU. Beau’s parents and Alice had gone home. The hospital was in nighttime mode, dim lights and quiet corridors.

  “Mr. Johnson, nice to see you.” The neonatal nurse stood beside Beau and Kevin. She looked through the glass at the tiny baby in the incubator. “She’s a strong little girl,” she said.

  Beau mustered a smile, though his insides were tangled like a rebellious child’s confusion.

  “How’s she doing,” Kevin read her nametag and added, “Susan?”

  “She’s a tough little cookie. She’s not giving up.” She smiled and walked away.

  “Well that’s good news,” Kevin said to Beau.

  Beau turned his back to the window, “I wanna see Tess.”

  ***

  The monitors loomed like ominous monsters. Tess’s swollen belly looked like a deflated balloon, still puffy but not bulbous. Beau was relieved to see that she no longer needed the ventilator. He dropped his eyes to her hand. He lifted the blanket, gently touched the pocket watch, then moved it to rest under Tess’s hand. A tear slid down his cheek. His legs had become dead weight. He leaned against Tess’s bed. Why did you give up on me? Love and hate battled in his mind. He was too tired to combat his own thoughts.

  He walked around to the foot of the bed, where the web of wires and IV lines were nonexistent, and looked up at his wife. She was beautiful. Even with her face covered in grape bruises and gauze covering her apple-plump cheeks. Beau’s heart stirred. He moved to the far side of the bed and reached for her hand, heavy and warm. He wrote the letter “I”, drew a heart with his index finger, and wrote the letter “U”, then clasped her small hand within both of his scratched and battered palms and brought it to his forehead.

  “What am I going to do?” he whispered. He climbed into the bed and lay on his side, his right arm under his head, his left arm stretched across Tess’s chest. He inched closer, until he could feel her body move with each shallow breath. The rhythmic beeps lulled him to sleep.

  ***

  The beeping had stopped, replaced by one dull and steady high-pitched hum. In Beau’s dream, the television screen had gone to one of those tests of the local area broadcasting system. Someone was tugging on his side, pulling him off the couch.

  “Get him out of here, stat!” the male doctor ordered.

  Beau awoke to being pulled off of Tess’s bed and shoved out of the room. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Blinking rapidly, he tried to pull his mind out of its slumbering state.

  Tess’s door slammed, the blinds closed. Beau was left floundering in the hall, listening to a frantic “Clear!” every few seconds from behind the door. He paced.

  Mary came to his side, having just come on her shift. “They’re doing all they can, darlin’,” she said.

  He panicked. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  “She coded again,” Mary reached out, touched Beau’s forearm.

  “Coded?”

  “Stopped breathing,” she explained.

  Beau’s features crumbled. He covered his face with his hands, then moved toward Tess’s door. Mary put herself between him and the door.

  “I’m sorry, hon, but I can’t let you go in there,” her voice was sweet, yet firm.

  “She’s my wife!” He tried to push past her.

  A tall, thick orderly moved beside Mary in quick fashion. “I’m sorry, sir, but you have to wait in the hall. Let the code team do their work. There’s nothing you can do in there.”

  Minutes passed as if stretched into hours—too many minutes. Beau leaned against the wall, his chest constricted. His stomach turned and twisted. Let her live, played over and over in his mind like a broken record. If only he could be in the room. She has to make it. In that moment, he knew that no matter what she’d done while he was away, he did not want to be without her.

  Nurses filed out of Tess’s room, unable to meet Beau’s eyes. An unfamiliar male doctor followed, his face a mask of apprehension.

  Beau rushed up to him, “Is she okay?”

  The doctor looked at him without saying a word, lowered his eyes.

  Beau grabbed his arm, “She’s okay, right?” Tears sprang from his eyes. His voice rose. “Tell me she’s alright!” he pleaded.

  “She’s stabilized.”

  Beau let out a breath. “Thank you,” he grabbed the doctor’s hand and shook it. “Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes.

  The doctor separated his hand gently from Beau’s. “She’s stabilized, for now, Mr. Johnson, but she wasn’t breathing for several minutes.”

  “But she’s okay?” Beau’s eyes lit up, his hands fisted.

  The doctor looked at Mary, who lowered her eyes.

  A hunk of lead formed in Beau’s gut.

  “We’ve got her on life support.”

  Life support?

  He let the words sink in before continuing, “Your wife’s been through a lot, Mr. Johnson. She was in a complete state of anoxia for nine full minutes. She was legally dead.”

  A cold pain shot through Beau’s chest and arms. “But…but she’s on life support. She just has to get strong enough to breathe again, right?” Beau’s voice rose and cracked.

  The doctor shook his head. “It means we’re breathing for her. Without oxygen, brain cells are destroyed after four to six minutes. Tess was without oxygen for nine minutes.” He sighed, softened his voice. “Recovery is not an outcome I would hope for. She’ll likely be in a vegetative state for the rest of her life. I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kevin left Beau alone with Tess. He’d wanted to stay, but Beau had refused to let him remain in the room. Against Kevin’s better judgment, he’d left the hospital. He wasn’t going to fight with a man whose wife was on the verge of death. Rage mounted within him. His best friend was going to lose his wife and he thought she’d had an affair. Beau’s coming home should have been a time of celebration, instead, it was a nightmare. He should have called Tess, let her know Beau was coming home, then she’d have been in the house, not in her car. The unraveling of
his best friend’s life was his fault. He pushed hard on the gas pedal, needing an outlet for his mounting anger. He headed toward Alice’s condo.

  The lights in Alice’s window were out. Kevin’s heart thumped against his chest as he took the stairs two by two to Alice’s floor, then pounded on the door. When she didn’t answer, he banged, two, three, four more times—each rap echoed in the empty corridor.

  Alice peered out of the peephole, pulling her bathrobe tight around her small waist and opening the door, “Kevin?” Her voice carried the weight of sleep. She opened the door. “Did you find Beau?”

  Kevin pushed into the condo, his arms tense, “Why’d you do it, Al?”

  “What?” she said innocently, taken aback by his anger.

  “Why’d you call Louie?”

  Alice tucked her hair behind her ear and sat on the couch. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I guess I felt like he should be there.”

  “Why?” his voice rose.

  “What do you mean, why? They were dating, you know that,” her voice twisted with irritation.

  “But you knew Beau was back!” He paced the floor, stopping in front of Alice, arms crossed, red-faced. “You knew it would cause trouble!”

  “Kevin—”

  “Was she having an affair before Beau left?” he spat.

  “No!”

  “Is the baby Louie’s?”

  “No, Kevin. Jesus,” she stood and walked into the kitchen.

  Kevin followed.

  “Then why, Alice?” his voice rocketed between the ceramic tile and the ceiling.

  “Please lower your voice. It’s hardly morning yet,” she put a pot of water on the stove, her hands trembling. “The baby’s Beau’s. You know that. Why are you yelling at me?”

  “She’s dying, Alice. Tess is dying, and Beau thinks she had an affair and that the baby’s Louie’s.”

  The spoon Alice had been holding clanked to the floor. Her legs weakened. She grabbed the counter. “She’s…she’s—”

  “Shit.” Kevin lowered his voice, “I’m sorry, Al. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.”

  “Dying?” she asked in a frightened voice.

  Kevin nodded and reached out to her.

  She pushed him away and turned her back. “You come in here accusing Tess of having someone else’s baby, yelling at me, and now you tell me she’s dying?” She spun around, her cheeks drenched in tears, her eyes venomous. “How dare you!”

  “Ali—”

  Alice’s body shook, her legs would not carry her to the door. She clung to the countertop, her fingertips white with force. “Get out,” she demanded. “Get out, get out, get out!” Her shrieks followed Kevin down the hall and into the elevator.

  ***

  “She’s…she’s—” Alice’s sobs stole her voice.

  “What is it, Alice? Slow down, honey,” Carol placed her left hand atop of the right, in an effort to stop the receiver from shaking. She wished Robert were there. She turned and looked toward the empty living room, then turned back toward the kitchen counter.

  “She’s not good. Kevin said she might not make it.”

  The receiver dropped from Carol’s hand, slamming into the cabinets, swinging from its cord like a hanging victim. Her ability to think, to move, to comprehend, slipped away. Her hands hung limply at her sides. Carol didn’t hear Robert’s footsteps as he stepped from the carpet onto the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor. She didn’t hear his high, panicked voice as he called her name. Carol’s body collapsed into a heap on the cold kitchen floor.

  “Carol!” Robert gasped, crouching beside her. His wife stared straight ahead, tears streaming down her cheeks. He touched her forehead, leaned her back against the cabinet. “Carol, what’s happened? Can you hear me?”

  Carol heard his voice, but couldn’t find her own.

  Robert grabbed a dishtowel and soaked it in cold water. He wiped her brow, her cheeks. “Carol?”

  She blinked, turned toward his voice, as if just noticing he was there.

  “What is it? What’s happened? Should I call a doctor?”

  Carol leaned forward, reaching for his shirt. She grasped his open cardigan in two tight fists, and pulled him toward her. Her forehead rested against his chest. She stayed there, silently crying, unable to tell her husband that their son’s life was about to change forever. It wasn’t fair. He’d just relieved their grief, only to be given his own.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  This wasn’t supposed to happen—none of it. Beau was supposed to return and Tess was supposed to jump into his arms, ecstatic to hold him. It wasn’t fair, and Beau was dead set on making someone pay. His body taut with anger, he clutched the bedrails of Tess’s bed so tightly they shook. Louie. Fucking Louie. Beau blazed with hatred. Breath shot from his nostrils fast and hard. He turned to leave, took two purposeful steps, then turned back. Later, he resolved.

  The doctors were wrong. This wasn’t the end. Beau leaned over Tess’s body until his face was within inches of hers, the breathing tube a small viper, barely separating them.

  “Wake up,” he said sternly.

  Tess’s body remained still, her eyelids did not move.

  “Wake up,” his voice rose, his hands moved up the rail to the stainless steel curve near Tess’s head.

  “Wake up.” His hands hovered above Tess.

  “Wake the fuck up,” he yelled. He clenched her shoulders and shook her. Her head bobbed up and down, her arms hung limp, like a rag doll’s. He shook her harder, his voice gaining strength with each shake. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

  Mary rushed into the room. “Mr. Johnson!” She grabbed his arms, pulling with all her might against his adrenaline-infused body. “Release her!”

  Beau swiped his right arm backward, casting Mary off like a flea.

  Mary pushed the emergency call button repeatedly. She grabbed at his arms again, pulling hard. “Let go! You’ll hurt her!”

  “Wake up! Wake up, Tess!” he raged, pushing her body into the mattress. Mary’s voice, the monitors, faded into white noise. It was just he and Tess in the room, tunnel vision. Wake her, he heard in his mind. Wake her now.

  Two orderlies rushed into the room, each grabbing one of his arms and dragging him away as he flailed and twisted, screaming, “Get up, Tess! Wake up!”

  “Get him into room 210,” Mary ordered.

  Beau saw Tess slipping away before his eyes as he was dragged out of the room.

  ***

  The orderlies stood, arms crossed in front of the door of room 210, an interior room with a couch, a table, two chairs, and despair. Beau paced, crossing and uncrossing his arms, pondering how he might get out of the damn room. He had to get to Tess. She had to wake up. This was a mistake, a goddamn mistake! It wasn’t she who got hit by the car, it couldn’t have been. This was a nightmare. It had to be. When would he wake up? He dug his nails into his forearms, trying to wake himself, sure the events weren’t real. Blood filled the crescent-shaped punctures.

  Beau looked up at the squeak of the door.

  “Mr. Johnson.” Dr. Kelly’s eyes were serious, her lips set firmly in a line. “Let’s sit down, shall we?” She motioned to the couch.

  Beau sat on one of the upholstered chairs. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, his legs bouncing, eyes trained on his clasped fists.

  “I understand—” Dr. Kelly began.

  “It’s a mistake.” His gruff voice caused Dr. Kelly to lean back, distancing herself from him. “She’s not brain dead.”

  “Mr. Johnson, it’s very common—”

  Beau pushed to his feet, paced. “Don’t tell me what’s common. Tess isn’t common.” He turned to face Dr. Kelly.

  “I can assure you—”

  “Don’t assure me.” He moved closer to her. “Don’t fucking assure me. You don’t know Tess. You don’t know me.”

  “Yes,” she said in a confirmatory tone. “I don’t know Tess, or you, but I know medicine. I can assure you, all
tests indicate—”

  “Tests? I don’t care about fucking tests! I know my wife, and she’s not brain dead.” He turned away, took two steps, then spun back toward her. “She’s sharp as a tack, able to do a hundred things at once without thinking about it. You’re wrong, Dr. Kelly, wrong.”

  “Mr. Johnson, if it will make you feel more assured, I will order a retake of the tests. This is a difficult process.” Dr. Kelly stood, her voice softened. “I can assure you, we have no reason to indicate anything other than what the tests show.”

  Beau stared her down, arms crossed, muscles twitching. He felt the orderlies approach from behind, and turned, giving them a don’t-even-think-about-it look.

  “We can’t have you assaulting your wife, Mr. Johnson. You will only injure her further.”

  “Assault? I didn’t assault my wife.”

  “Shake, I’m sorry. You cannot shake your wife. If you’re deemed a threat to her, Mr. Johnson, we’ll have to ask you to refrain from seeing her.”

  Beau’s arms fell to his sides. He let out a long breath, rubbed his hand down his face. His voice eased, “She’s my wife.” It sounded more like a question. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes. His anger changed to pain, vulnerability.

  Dr. Kelly nodded. “Yes, she is.”

  “My wife,” Beau said and collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands. Beau couldn’t wrap his mind around Tess’s diagnosis. How could Tess be brain dead? The beautiful, bright woman he’d fallen in love with…brain dead? He cried like a child who’d lost his parent. His nose ran, his breath hitched. Salty tears dripped into his mouth.

  Dr. Kelly gave a knowing glance to the orderlies. She sat next to Beau, her hand on his back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, unable to stop the tears. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Alice walked down the corridor towards the office. When had the hallway become so narrow? The path that used to invigorate her now gave her a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. The gold Top Staffing Consultants sign appeared at the end of the hall. Each step carried the weight of Alice’s grief, a grief so consuming she’d been unable to eat or sleep in more than fits and starts in the weeks since Tess’s accident. She stood before the door, mentally preparing herself for the empty office. Her cell phone rang. Kevin. She pushed Ignore and sighed, lifting her right leg to support her purse as she dug for her keys. Something crinkled beneath her booted foot. Alice let out a loud breath. Missing an envelope on a hall floor came as no surprise. She was becoming all too familiar with things slipping by her lately. She retrieved the white, letter-sized envelope, and inserted the key into the lock.