by Jodi Perry
Her injuries are extensive. The surgeon managed to stitch her open wounds, but they won’t be able to operate until the swelling subsides. She’s going to need pins in her right arm and leg, as well as a hip replacement because the bones are shattered. As much as I hate that my girl is so broken and battered, we can deal with that. She’s alive, and bones heal. For now, our primary concern is getting her through the next few days. As the doctor said, she’s healthy, and she’s strong. I know she’ll fight. She has to.
The nurse stops walking and turns to face me when we reach Jemma’s room. My heart is beating so fast I can hear the thumping in my ears. There’s a sympathetic smile on her face. ‘This is your wife’s room, Mr Spencer.’
‘Thank you.’
I turn and nod to Jemma’s parents. No words would be enough to comfort any of us in this moment. Christine’s sad eyes meet mine, and she manages to force a smile as she reaches out to rub her hand down my arm. This is the caring and nurturing woman I love, and miss.
‘Good luck,’ she says. ‘We’ll be out here waiting if you need us.’
I pause in the doorway and steady myself. I can do this. Willing my legs to move, I take a step forward, followed by another. I take a sharp breath the moment my eyes land on Jemma. My knees threaten to give way underneath me as I approach the bed. The person lying before me doesn’t even resemble my wife.
I’m not sure what I expected to see when I walked in here, but it certainly wasn’t this. The white sterile sheets are pulled up under her chin, so I can only see her bruised and battered face. She’s hooked up to several machines, and a large white tube protrudes from her mouth.
I stand and stare for the longest time, afraid to go closer. It’s a surreal feeling. Never in my life did I think I’d have to face anything like this. The right side of her face and forehead are heavily bandaged. I immediately divert my eyes away from the dried blood I see caked in her hair. I can’t bear it. Her face is so swollen. I can’t even describe how much it hurts to see her like this.
There’s a chair sitting by the wall. I make my way towards it and drag it to Jemma’s bedside. The left side is still perfect, still her. Tears rise to my eyes as I gently run the tip of my fingers down the left side of her face.
I promised myself before coming in here that I would remain strong for her, but I’m so overcome with sadness I no longer can. I’m so scared. Leaning forward, I place my lips softly on her cheek. She’s so lifeless, so pale, and her skin feels cold against my mouth. Sliding my hand under the blanket, I fold her hand in mine.
I want to wrap her in my arms and beg her to get better, but I’m too afraid to touch her. I don’t want to hurt her any more than she’s already hurting. I’ve spent my entire life caring for and protecting her, but the one time she needed me most, I wasn’t there. Logically, I know there’s nothing I could have done to avoid this. None of us could have seen it coming, but it doesn’t lessen the guilt that I’m feeling.
The officer’s words from this morning echo in my mind. All I can tell you is the car she was travelling in was T-boned after driving through a stop sign.
‘Jem,’ I whisper against her skin. ‘I need you, baby. Don’t leave me.’ I can taste the saltiness of my tears. ‘Fight for us … fight for you. Just fight.’
My heart aches as I rest my face against hers for the longest time. Even this simple contact gives me strength, and I can only hope it gives Jem strength too.
I’m startled when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I look up to find the nurse beside me. ‘Mrs Spencer’s parents would like to come in and see their daughter now.’
‘Okay,’ I say, leaning back into my chair and wiping the tears from my face.
‘You can come back in once they’ve seen her.’
I wait until she leaves the room, then I lean forward in my chair again. ‘Your parents are here to see you,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll be right outside. I’m not going anywhere.’ I brush my lips against her cheek once more before standing. ‘I love you.’
My heart feels shattered as I leave the room. I pass Christine in the doorway. She reaches for my arm, but I shrug her off.
‘How is she?’ she asks. I shake my head in reply. I’m numb. I have no words for how she is. Christine will see for herself in a minute.
Stephen pats my back as I pass him. I know that the grim look on his face is reflected in my own. I feel bad for what they’re about to see. Jemma has always been their little girl. Seeing her in this condition won’t be easy.
‘Braxton.’ I glance over my shoulder as I walk towards the line of chairs positioned along the wall. Lucas. No words are spoken as he comes to a stop in front of me and pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. He has never hugged me like this before, but I’m too grateful to feel awkward. I need something, anything, to hold me together right now. ‘She’s going to pull through this, buddy.’
I’m so glad he’s here.
I pull out my phone when I feel it vibrate in my pocket. I see it’s a text from Jemma’s friend Rachel. She’s on her way here from New York. ‘Why don’t you go home for a few hours and get some rest,’ Stephen says, placing his hand on my shoulder. ‘You look like crap.’
‘Geez, thanks.’
Three days have passed since the accident, and I haven’t left my wife’s side. I’ll go home when I can take her with me, and not before. Although it’s apparently against hospital policy, the nurse let me have a shower this morning. It made me feel somewhat human again. Lucas went to our place and brought back some toiletries and fresh clothes. He’s been calling in to the hospital on his way to work, and again in the evenings on his way home. There’s not much he can do here, but I’m grateful he’s keeping things moving at the office, even though I’m struggling to focus on anything other than Jem at this moment.
‘You know what I mean, son,’ Stephen says. ‘Jemma’s going to need you when she wakes, and you won’t be able to function if you keep this up.’ He’s right. I’ve barely slept and I’m not really eating, but I can’t leave. The truth is, I won’t be able to breathe easy until I know for certain she’s going to be okay.
‘I’m not leaving her.’
She survived the first forty-eight hours, and with every passing day my confidence grows. She’s still in an induced coma, but the doctor did some more scans this morning, and they showed that the swelling is subsiding. I know she’s going to have a long road to recovery once she’s conscious, but she’ll never be alone. Me, her parents, Lucas, and her best friend, Rachel—we will all help her, every step of the way.
‘You need some rest,’ Stephen persists.
None of us are really functioning properly at the moment. Stephen and Christine are here from early morning until late at night, but unlike me, they go home to sleep.
‘For god’s sake,’ Christine snaps. ‘His wife is lying in the hospital. Why would he want to leave her? He’s committed to the woman he loves. Unlike you, he’ll honour his wedding vows.’
Burying my face in my hands, I will myself to bite my tongue. I’m at my wit’s end with the snarky remarks she’s thrown at Stephen over the past few days. I get it, I do: she’d worshipped the ground he walked on, until he broke her heart. But what we’re facing at the moment is proof that life is short. None of us knows what lies around the corner. And Jemma is their only child; surely if anything could bring them closer, it’s their shared pain and love for their daughter. Christine needs to move forward and somehow try to forgive. The hate and resentment she’s carrying around is making a once compassionate and loving person bitter and resentful. I barely recognise the woman who was so kind to me when I lost my own mum.
I feel for them both. It’s evident they still love each other; any fool could see that. But it appears Christine is going to make him pay for his mistake for the rest of his life. It’s so sad; the love they once shared is far too precious to waste.
‘I’m going to get a coffee,’ Stephen snaps as he stalks towards the door. I think he’s just han
ging on by a thread as well. This is the closest his wife has let him get to her since they split two years ago.
‘You really should cut him some slack,’ I say, turning towards Christine. I’ve tried to stay out of this for the past few years, but right now it’s almost impossible. I even managed to refrain from speaking my mind during the whole wedding fiasco. What Christine failed—or refused—to realise then, was that Jemma’s father was going to be present at our wedding and give his little girl away whether Christine wanted him there or not. The pressure nearly tore Jemma apart—on more than one occasion I held her in my arms while she cried tears of frustration brought on by her mother—but I know how much she loves both her parents, so I kept quiet. But not now.
‘This shit really needs to stop,’ I say. ‘I won’t stand by and let you upset Jemma during her recovery.’
Christine’s eyes narrow slightly and her mouth opens to speak, but then she pauses. I see her whole body deflate, and I know she knows I’m right. Our priority right now needs to be Jemma.
‘You’re right,’ she replies, exhaling loudly. ‘I’ve tried to let go of the hurt, but I can’t.’
Rising from the chair, I make my way towards her. ‘I know this isn’t easy for you, Christine, but tell me this: does constantly beating him down make you feel any better?’
‘No,’ she whispers. ‘No, it doesn’t.’
This isn’t her. Not the real Christine, the mother figure I loved growing up. When my own mother passed away, Christine stepped in and cared for me like I was her own, and I’ll always be grateful. She has been wonderful to me and my father over the years. She and Stephen both.
‘Just try to be a little bit nicer,’ I say, placing my hand on her shoulder. ‘Jemma’s going to need all of us to be united when she wakes.’
‘I know.’ The remorseful look on her face tells me she’s at least going to try.
I open my eyes just as the night nurse is leaving the room. Apart from the thin strip of light coming from behind Jemma’s bed, the room is bathed in darkness. I crick my neck from side to side as I sit forward in the reclining lounge that has become a makeshift bed. I long for the day that I can again sleep in my own comfortable bed, with my wife wrapped in my arms. My watch shows it’s just after two in the morning.
Rising, I drag the chair closer to Jemma’s bed. I need to be nearer. If she wasn’t hooked up to so many machines, I wouldn’t hesitate to climb into bed beside her and hold her. I miss so much about her—her smile, her laugh, her touch, her love—but more than anything I miss waking up with her. She’s been my life for as long as I can remember, so having her here but not present makes my heart ache.
Bending down, I place my lips on her forehead. ‘Please come back to me soon.’ I lie back down on the recliner and slide my hand under the blanket that’s covering her. I need the contact. Maybe this might help me sleep; I need to be at my strongest when she wakes. ‘I love you,’ I whisper as my fingers wrap around hers. We have never gone to sleep without saying these words.
FIVE
Braxton
I pace back and forth in the corridor. Today’s the day. The doctor and two nurses are in with my wife now. The swelling on her brain has subsided, so they’re going to start the process of bringing her out of the coma. They’ll also take her off the machines that have been helping to keep her alive. I should be feeling relieved, but I’m not—I’m extremely anxious. As positive as I’m trying to remain, there’s still no guarantee she will pull through.
Christine, Stephen and Lucas are all sitting down watching me. I’m sure I’m making them feel uneasy, but I can’t stay still. My stomach is in knots.
‘Braxton!’ I look up and see Rachel, Jemma’s best friend, running towards me. Rachel moved to New York for work just over a year ago, but there was no doubt in my mind that she would come home once she found out about the accident. They’re as close as sisters. That’s why I waited until the day after the accident to call her. I didn’t want her flying back here unnecessarily. She was only here three weeks ago, to be Jemma’s maid of honour.
My heart hurts when I think back to us picking her up from the airport when she arrived for our wedding. She and Jemma Skype each week but they hadn’t seen each other for nearly a year. The moment Rachel emerged from Customs, Jemma had dropped my hand to run to her. They held each other and cried for the longest time.
Arriving this time must have been hard for her, for such a different reason and with nobody to greet her. But my mind has been clouded with worry and I just didn’t think to organise somebody to collect her.
No words are spoken as she collapses into my arms and sobs. I can feel her body trembling, or maybe it’s mine, I’m not sure. All I know in this moment is that I’m exhausted, frightened and struggling to keep it together.
‘How is she?’ she asks looking up at me through her tears. She has been texting me over the past few days for updates during her travel. My reply was always the same: No change. Critical yet stable. That’s all I could tell her. It has been a waiting game for all of us.
‘The doctor’s with her now,’ I tell her. ‘The swelling’s gone down, so they’re going to bring her out of the coma.’
The doctor spoke to me at length before he went in. They’re going to stop the drugs that they’ve been using to keep her comatose, but will continue with the fluids, and the pain medication to help keep her comfortable. It could take anywhere from twelve to seventy-two hours for her to fully wake.
I just want this nightmare to be over.
Many hours have passed and there’s still no sign of her waking. At least the tube that was helping her breathe has been removed from her mouth. The bruising and swelling on the right side of her face has gone down. Although she looks far from the Jemma I know, I’m grateful that I can already see an improvement.
Over the past four days I was asked to leave the room while they dressed her wounds, so I’m yet to see what lies underneath all those bandages. I’m not sure I want to.
Apart from that, I haven’t left her side. Christine has been trying her best not to antagonise Stephen, but in my opinion she could try harder. They’ve been alternating their time spent in the room with Lucas and Rachel. The rules are different in the ICU. They don’t usually allow more than one person in the room at a time, but they have made an exception for us. Christine has paired up with Rachel, and Lucas with Stephen. I’m somewhat relieved that Jemma’s parents have been split up; it’s just easier for everyone.
When evening falls, I encourage them all to go home and get some rest. I’m not leaving, though. I can’t. Christine protests at first, but Rachel eventually convinces her it’s for the best. She will stay with Christine while she’s here. Christine loves Rachel like a daughter, so I’m happy they will have each other for support. Having Rachel here will free me up so I can put my efforts into getting my wife well again. Christine doesn’t drive, so when Stephen moved out of the family home, running her around was always left to Jem and me.
I’m sitting by the bed with Jemma’s hand wrapped in mine when one of the night nurses enters the room. ‘Mr Spencer,’ she says with a nod. ‘I’m surprised to see you’re still awake.’
I give her a half-hearted smile. There’s no denying that I’m tired; I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but I don’t want to go to sleep in case Jemma regains consciousness. She’ll be confused and scared, wondering where she is and how she got here. I need to be here to put her mind at ease.
‘It could take a few days.’
‘I know,’ is my only reply.
‘You’re a good man, Mr Spencer. Your wife’s lucky to have you.’
‘I feel like I’m the lucky one.’
‘Is there anything I can get you before I leave?’
‘No. I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Try to get some rest, Mr Spencer. I’ll be checking on your wife every hour, so if there’s any change in her condition, I’ll wake you.’
‘Thank you.’
> It’s fifteen minutes past midnight when she leaves. That means it has been almost fourteen hours since the doctors stopped the drugs that were keeping her unconscious. I can’t sleep now. It might take days, but there’s also the possibility that she’ll wake at any moment.
I’m jolted from my sleep when I feel someone squeeze my hand. My eyes are heavy and my mind is in a haze. I’m still sitting in the chair beside Jemma’s bed. I look down at my watch and see that it’s just after 5am. Then the realisation hits me. Someone squeezed my hand.
‘Jemma,’ I say, sitting upright in my chair. ‘Jemma, baby.’ I lean my body closer to her as I lightly squeeze the hand that’s still wrapped in mine, but there’s nothing. No movement. I must have imagined it.
I exhale a large breath as I rest my forehead on her shoulder. ‘Wake up, babe. Please.’ My voice cracks as I try to hold my emotions in. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. ‘Please, Jem,’ I whisper. ‘I need you.’
Minutes pass. I continue to rest my head on her, all the time struggling to hold back the tears. I feel like I’m losing my mind, but it’s probably just the sleep deprivation. I’m mentally and physically spent. I lean back in my chair and rub my free hand over my face, scratching against the whiskers. I’ve never gone this long without shaving.
I have to admit to myself that a warm shower and a shave might revitalise me. Jem’s never been a fan of beards. She thought my occasional stubble was sexy, but that was her limit.
I gently unravel my fingers from hers and stand up to stretch. I arch my back and raise my hands high in the air, trying to relieve the ache that seems to have taken permanent residence in my weary muscles. I usually try to work out most days, but I can’t do that while I’m here.
It’s now a little after seven. The nurse has just left after checking Jem’s vitals; there’s still no change. She told me the doctor would be in shortly, when he starts his rounds. I’m on edge. I pace back and forth for a few minutes, before coming to a stop beside the bed.