Enthralled: A Box Set

by Pamela Ann

  I’m against the cold hospital wall as I watched it all in horror. I think half of me dies when the doctor yells, “Clear.”

  I close my eyes as my tears fall down my face. I pray, drowning the rushed scuttle of their voices and movements, not wanting to hear any of it as they try to bring his lifeless body back to life.

  “Please, please! Hear me. Give Drake his life back. Don’t take him from me. I love him. Please . . . Hear me . . .”

  I tense when I feel a strong hand on my arm. “Mrs. Tatum?” I don’t even think to correct him that I’m not Mrs. Tatum because I wish I was now.

  My misty eyes flutter open and connect to the worried face of the doctor. How I wish I was now. Fuck! My stomach drops.

  “No! NO! NO!” I scream and fall on the floor when my legs give out.

  The doctor and a couple nurses help me into the chair. “He’s alive. We managed to bring him back. The nurses will be back to check again with his progress and get more scans from him.” I merely nod in my dazed state.

  When they’ve all left, I stare at Drake’s body. I’m scared to reach out and touch him, just in case he dies again. I don’t think I could endure it if he dies when I touch him a second time. So, I stay in my seat, on edge. After an hour of nurses going in and out of the room, they wheel him out to get CT scans. I didn’t realize I fell asleep until a stranger’s voice wakes me.

  “Miss Lily?”

  I blink a few times before I focus on the warm smile of the nurse before me. When she sees my questioning look, she smiles wider. “He’s awake. He’s been asking for you.”

  I suddenly stand up and look over. When the nurse leaves, I slowly walk over to the bed.

  “Drake?” I shakily whisper his name.

  Drake slowly turns his head, groaning. “Lil,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.

  He’s really awake! My Drake is awake!

  In that instant, I go and cry on his chest. Bawling and howling my sorrows. “God, I’m so sorry for being so awful. I’m sorry.” I slowly lift my upper body, scolding myself for being stupid. His chest is probably hurting after what it has gone through, my heavy head doesn’t need to add to the problem.

  “Shhh, don’t cry, Babe.” Drake slowly lifts his eyelids, his eyes a little glazed over.

  “I’m sorry.” I sniff and give him a smile.

  His weak hand reaches out to me and cups my face as he slowly wipes my tears away. I close my eyes, loving the brush of his hand on me. “I love you, Lil. It was the only thing I could think about before the car crashed. I was thinking that I didn’t get the chance to tell you how much I love you.” His voice is paper-thin and hoarse.

  I hold his hand against my face and kiss it. “I love you, Drake. I have never stopped loving you. When I spoke those words eight years ago, I meant them. It hasn’t changed.”

  He gives me a weak smile before he closes his eyes. “Stay with me, please? I want you close.” Drake lightly coughs, his breathing ragged.

  I wouldn’t dare move even if the President asked it of me. “Always. I will be here, next to you.” I pull a chair up and place it next to his bed. I hold his hand the whole time while I watch him breathe in and out.

  Once in a while, Drake squeezes my hand, but keeps his eyes shut. I bet the drugs they gave him are powerful. Whatever helps him rest and heal.

  Emotionally exhausted and pregnant, it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep with his hand against my cheek.

  24

  “Sweetie, you have to eat something.” Patricia urges me to eat the lunch they brought in.

  All three scrambled back here when they were informed about what happened with Drake. Hugh and my mom are at the connecting private lounge, but I stick next to Drake because I promised that I would stay close and because I don’t want to be anywhere else. My place is with him. It always has been. It was only a matter of time until he and I realized that.

  “Do you mind just bringing the food in here with me? I don’t want to leave his side.” Patricia smiles sadly at me. Dark circles and frown lines that were not there a few days ago are now evident on her beautiful face.

  “I will sit with my son and wait until you are done. Please, you’re pregnant. You can’t risk both of your lives as well.

  With difficultly, I finally let go of Drake’s hand and get up from my chair. Patricia takes my seat. I hear her speaking softly to her son before I leave the room, exhausted.

  “Hugh just stepped out to take care of some business. I have your prenatal vitamins and some other stuff that you need.” Mom gives me the much needed vitamins. I down one with a bottled orange juice.

  When she presents me with a gourmet sandwich, I barely manage to swallow the tiny bites I make, but I do, for the baby. I don’t even care how the food tastes. Everything is automated. I just want to get it over with so that I can go back to Drake.

  “How are you feeling?” my mother asks. I’m sure she is referring to the scary shock of my life earlier when Drake died for a few minutes.

  I stare at the bottled juice that sits on the table before me. How am I feeling? I feel like I’ve been dragged to Hell and back. There are no words to describe how I am feeling. The man I love died for a few minutes. Where do I even begin with all of that?

  After a few minutes of just staring into space while flashbacks run through my head, I finally look at my mom and see that she has tears in her eyes. “Thank you for being here. I love you.”

  Mom comes over and gives me a tight hug, sniffing. “Be strong. Drake will recover. He’s young and he’s a stubborn man at that.”

  I cry in her arms. My mother’s smell and comfort give me strength and new found bravery. If there is another person who understands what I’m going through, it’s my mom. Before my father died, she held it together even though the pain was written all over her face. I cry until I have no more tears left. When I come up for air, she urges me to wash my face before returning to sit next to Drake. “You’ll feel better when you freshen up, trust me.”

  And it does help. Not a whole lot, but it helps me feel a little lighter inside.

  Break

  It’s around three in the afternoon when the doctor comes into the room. He introduces himself as Dr. Readings. He’s a man in his late fifties with salt and pepper hair, kind eyes and a warm sympathetic smile.

  He faces Patricia and Hugh before he speaks. “We found several blood clots in Drake. They’re travelling upwards and we want to operate quickly before it turns into a pulmonary embolism. If it reaches his lungs before we get to it, his chances of survival are slim.”

  Is he serious? Hasn’t Drake gone through enough? Another surgery? What if that will cause an infection or another complication, what then?

  Patricia body starts to shake and she sags in the chair. Watching how his wife looks like she has lost a battle, Hugh takes charge. “When can you schedule the operation? I want it done as soon as possible. I think we can all agree that my only son has gone through Hell for the last two days. Do what you have to do. I expect to have the best of the best on the operating team for my son. Do you have recommendations for doctors to be flown in?”

  “I can actually recommend another doctor to operate with me. I am highly qualified, but I want another qualified doctor in there with me. I will give him a call right away and hopefully we can schedule it later this evening. I will get back to you shortly.” The doctor excuses himself before Patricia and Mom start crying again.

  Another operation.

  How the hell am I going to survive another one?

  Fuck! When it rains, it really pours, hard, with no concession.

  After an hour, the doctor confirms that the specialist is on board and should be here around six tonight. The emergency operation is scheduled for seven.

  I feel like a crying zombie.

  My eyes just keep weeping and there’s no stopping it. The well of tears doesn’t stop while I sit next to Drake’s sleeping body.

  My head falls flat on the
bed, exhausted. I’m pleasantly woken up with soft, gentle strokes on my cheek. My face feels crusty after crying.

  “Hey . . . you’re crying again,” I hear Drake whisper sadly.

  Still sleepy, I manage to lift my head and meet his silver eyes. “I can’t help it.”

  Drake tries to give me a reassuring smile, but fails miserably. “They’re going to wheel me out in twenty minutes to prep me for the operation.”

  I still. Damn, I slept for hours! Fuck!

  Drake’s throat bobs a few times before his hoarse voice gives me infinite dread. I start to shiver. “Just in case I don’t survive—” he starts, but I cover his dry lips with my fingers, hushing him.

  “No. Don’t think like that. You will survive this. You’re a fighter. Don’t give up on me . . . or the baby. Please,” I beg. I watch as his face contorts with pain.

  “I will try, Lil. You know I will, but this is beyond my control.” He reaches for my hand and lightly tugs me closer to place my head on his chest. When he speaks again, he’s choked up with tears, too. “I don’t want to die. I want to see you swell with my baby. I want to see my child being born into this world. I want to share that joy with you. I wish that more than anything. You must believe me.” His voice shakes and it takes him another minute to speak again while I listen to his erratic heartbeat.

  “If things turn for the worst, I’m hoping you will name our child with my last name? I want him or her to have something of me.”

  My body racks with sobs. The thought of Drake thinking about this breaks my heart. It simply fucking breaks me into pieces.

  “When the time comes, I want you to move on. I want my child to have a good loving home and a good father figure for him or her. Will you . . . promise me that, Lil?”

  How can I promise him something so repulsive? I don’t want anyone else. I want him.

  Drake.

  No one else.

  I lift my face off his chest and look at the man whose fighting spirit is non-existent. “No. I won’t promise you that. I will never fucking promise you that, Drake Tatum. There will be no other man, except you, do you hear me? So, get your ass in gear because you will survive this. You can and you will do this because if you don’t, I will fucking die without you. Do you hear me? Yeah, I will die from heartache. So, please, don’t do that to me.” My chest aches and contracts when I speak those words to him. I mean each and every one of them.

  That definitely shut his ‘move on after I die’ speech. He even manages to laugh, though it sounds like it is a lot of struggle to do so. At least he’s smiling again. “Damn, you are right, woman. I forgot how stubborn you are.” His eyes trace my face, studying me with great intensity. “I’ve always loved you. I think I fell in love with you after we did that fake marriage in the gazebo. I’m sorry I fought against it. I was stupid and young.”

  “I knew you set me up for a good reason.” I laugh. Our laughter is short lived when the nurses come and inform us that it’s time for Drake to go to the OR.

  We hold hands as they slowly wheel him out of the room. Once we get to the OR, the nurse informs us that this is the furthest that I can go. My heart dreads and aches as I watch Drake say his goodbyes to his parents. My mom hugs him fiercely before leaving me to talk to Drake.

  I give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “I will see you very soon. Think of me and our future together while you’re dreaming, okay? I love you, Drake.”

  That seems to put him in good spirits. Good. We need all the help we can get to make him fight inside the operating room. “I will see you very soon. I love you, Babe.”

  I give him another kiss before the nurse takes him away from me. I stare at the door and pray to God that he will bring Drake back to me.

  There’s nothing I can do, but hope for the best.

  25

  We vigilantly wait for hours on end and don’t leave the waiting room area until we hear news from the doctors inside.

  The waiting part is the worst battle anyone can be faced with.

  We almost jump in our seats when the doctor approaches us.

  “The operation was a success. He’s doing fine, but he’s still not in the clear. He should be out very soon.”

  He’s about to leave, but I stop him. “Wait! What do you mean exactly by ‘he’s still not in the clear’?”

  “That there are still a lot of possibilities for him to have complications.”

  I merely nod my head before he leaves us and goes back inside the OR. Fear grips me, making it hard for me to breathe.

  “Sit down, Lil, and try to relax. He should be out soon.” Mom tries to calm me down as she guides me back to my seat.

  After over an hour, Drake is finally back in his private room looking as pale as ever. I’m alone in the room, the rest are out in the connected private sitting room. I stand at the foot of the bed, staring at him, scared and helpless.

  When I glance back at the monitor, I notice that the digits are starting to decline. “Mom?”

  “Mom!!!” I scream.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Hugh comes inside. He glances at the monitor when it starts to beep.

  “No, not again!” Hugh panics, but manages to call for the nurse.

  Mom and Patricia start to look frightened. When the nurse comes and reassures us that it’s normal for the blood pressure to drop after a surgery, it doesn’t help ease my worries.

  The nurse then checks for dehydration and whatever else that is needed. I watch it all, still stuck at the foot of the bed.

  “Lily! You’re bleeding!” Patricia yells, horrified as she looks at my blood stained jeans.

  The blood is seeping through my jeans quickly. I look up at them, powerless. “What’s happening?” I whisper. Tears start to form in my eyes, blurring everything.

  That’s the last thing I say before everything goes black, darkness takes over me.

  When I wake up the next day, Mom and Colin are in the room with me. Mom is silently crying while Colin tries to soothe her.

  “The baby?” I croak out. It’s the first thing that enters my brain when I wake up.

  Mom sadly shakes her head, tearing up again.

  My throat constricts, but I swallow back the tears. I can’t fall apart now, Drake is still in danger. “Drake?”

  “He’s fine. He’s stable now,” Colin manages to respond because Mom is still crying.

  “Can you guys take me home? I want to be alone.”

  “The doctor advises that you stay the night, so they can monitor you,” Colin says with worry, knowing where my thoughts are heading.

  “I’ll rest at home. I promise, I will. I want to be discharged, please? I need to be alone, please,” I beg them both.

  “Is that what you really want, Sweetie?” Mom asks, understanding my need to be alone.

  I give her a small nod. “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Mom whispers before she gets up to take care of it.

  Half an hour later, Colin and Mom are driving me home. I declined when they asked me if I wanted to visit Drake before I left. I couldn’t handle it.

  Not in the state that I’m in, not without having a nervous breakdown.

  When Colin parks outside my house, I tell him to stay in the car. Mom helps me out and walks me to the door. “I can take it from here, Mom. Tell Pat and Hugh I will be there in a day or two.”

  Mom hugs me. “I love you. I want to be here for you, but it seems that you need to be on your own. I don’t agree with this, but I am going to respect your need for privacy. I’m a phone call away,” she reminds me.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper, trying to hold it together.

  She waits for me to get in the house before she turns and leaves with Colin.

  I don’t bother turning on the lights. The darkness suits my feeling and my mood. It’s odd when I walk. There is this weird hollowness in my stomach. There’s only a hint of pain to remind me that I lost something today.

  I feel completely empty.

  When I g
et upstairs, instead of going directly into my bedroom, I go across the hall to the other room. I stand against the door, my hand gripping the handle. I slowly open it and go inside.

  That very same day when Drake got into the car accident, I spent all morning painting and rearranging the small bedroom. Taking out things that weren’t needed, so I would have space for a crib, a diaper changing station, a rocking chair; the things I had ordered online that day.

  The eggshell colored paintjob is only halfway done; I remember thinking that I would have all the next day to finish it.

  There it was, unfinished. Just like my pregnancy.

  I wanted that baby. I was excited to have something to look forward to, but it was short-lived.

  A dying scream comes from me before I curl up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

  I’m crying for my dad. For Drake.

  But most of all, I cry for the baby I never got the chance to know, to hold. The baby I loved will just be in my memory. Forever stuck there, frozen.

  26

  The next day, I wake still curled up on the floor. I slowly stand and go inside my bedroom to cry more in bed.

  I need to cry it out before I head back to the hospital tomorrow. If Drake wakes up and sees me in a terrible state, I don’t want him to blame himself.

  He’d think it was his fault that I lost the baby, but I know it is mine. I was negligent. I barely ate; especially with the stress level I was going through with Drake. I was advised to take proper nutrition and hydrate all the time, but I didn’t. It’s my fault that I lost my baby.

  When I wake the following morning, Mom is downstairs cooking me breakfast. “Good morning. Drake’s awake. I came by to make sure you’re doing fine and to tell you the news.”