At least I’d told her I loved her. It wasn’t much of a consolidation, but it was something. I hated myself for thinking like that, but I couldn’t help it. I made it a habit to end every conversation with those three little words. I’d learned a long time ago how important last words were and it wasn’t a mistake I would ever make again. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if my last words to her had been anything but ‘I love you’.
I parked illegally in a no standing zone and raced inside the ER.
Honestly, I didn’t give a shit if they towed my car away as the only thing on my mind right now was getting to Em. Glancing around, I spotted the front reception and went to wait in line. I was behind a mother and her son as well as a couple with a baby. The mother was laughing and joking with the nurse behind the desk. Every laugh and giggle pushed my anger into a darker place.
This was bullshit. I pushed my way to the front of the line leaving a sea of angry people in my wake.
“My fiancé was just brought in via ambulance and I need to see her.” I demanded, flicking the hair out of my eyes as the nurse jumped, surprised by my behavior.
“Hey, wait in line dude!” the man with the young boy complained. I ignored him. I needed to see Em now and nothing was going to get in the way of that, especially not some asshole with an attitude or a nurse who just wanted to gossip.
“Sir, you need to wait in line,” the nurse began sternly, as though she dealt with this kind of thing all day. “As soon as-.”
“No, you listen to me,” I said urgently, tears running down my face, “my fiancé was just brought unconscious and I’m not going anywhere until you direct me to where she is.” My voice was rising but I didn’t care, just as I didn’t care about the small crowd of people who were now watching, or the security guard who was inching closer to me, ready to intervene if I got aggressive. I forced myself to calm down. Getting banned from the hospital wasn’t going to help Em.
“What’s her name?” the nurse asked, finally relenting as she tapped away on her keyboard.
“Emma. Emma Mancelli.” I replied, my heart rate returning somewhere around normal. My hands were balled into fists by my side.
“The doctors are with her now. I will get one of them out here to take you to her. Sit over there,” she said, pointing to a group of seats near the entrance to the ER. Wordlessly, I walked over to the seats and sat down. Every time the doors opened I jumped expecting it to be for me, yet each time it wasn’t. The image of her lying there, lifeless was running through my mind on permanent replay. If I’d checked on her first before feeding the cat…maybe those few minutes would prove to have been valuable.
“Are you here for Emma Mancelli?”
I looked up, a doctor stood in front of me, his hand outstretched. Standing up, I shook his hand, embarrassed that my own was shaking and clammy.
“Yes. How is she?” I croaked, not wanting to know the answer if it wasn’t good, but needing to know or I’d drive myself crazy.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Simon,” I replied, “Em could be dead back there for all I know and you want my name?” I said incredulously.
“Simon, Emma is critical, but stable,” he began, his voice grim, “your fiancé suffered a brain hemorrhage, or a small stroke. We believe it was caused by a blood clot that formed in her uterus, outside of the amniotic sac. Blood clots are not always life threatening, but in your fiancés case, we believe the clot may have traveled to her brain. We will know more after we do some tests.”
He pushed open the door, allowing me to walk through first.
“So what is her prognosis? Just give me something to work with here,” I added, before he could feed me the ‘we won’t know until we do more tests’ line.
He hesitated, “I don’t know what to tell you, Simon. It’s not looking great, but I’ve seen people in worse condition fully recover.” I nodded and kept walking.
I hated hospitals. I’d been in way too many of the things and witnessed way too many loved ones suffer in them. My sister had been in and out of hospitals all her life and when my father killed himself, it was the ER where we last saw him alive, if you can call being kept alive by machines actually alive.
I remember that day perfectly. I was in college when I’d gotten the call from mom. Though I couldn’t make out what she was trying to tell me, the pit in my stomach told me it was bad. I hadn’t known dad was depressed. It wasn’t something he spoke about, or showed any signs of. In the weeks following his suicide, I kept wondering if there were signs I’d missed. If I’d spent more time with him maybe I would have noticed. We’d had a close relationship as far as I was concerned and the anger I felt towards him for what he did took me years to control.
It took mom over two years to be able to talk about finding him. I can’t imagine that feeling, though I suspect it was somewhat like walking in and finding Emma today. At least, that’s how I imagine it would be. He had overdosed in the bath, after visiting my sister in hospital when she caught a chest infection.
Did he blame himself for her injuries? Maybe.
He had been driving when the crash happened. He had blacked out at the wheel (the cause of which had turned out to be epilepsy) and crashed into a tree. I don’t remember much about it, I was only nine, but my sister had suffered massive injuries. She’d spent months in hospital and then rehabilitation until she was strong enough to come home. My fourteen year old sister had gone from being a funny, smart, popular cheerleader with perfect grades to a vegetable. It was like she wasn’t in there any more, just an empty shell that would stare blankly at the wall all day. She couldn’t communicate at all. I feel like an asshole of a person even thinking it, but I often thought she would have been better off if she’s died that day, maybe we all would have.
Mom and dad had cared for her for a long time, only putting her in respite for short breaks at a time. After dad’s death, it became too much for mom. Andrew was overseas at the time of dad’s death which added to mom’s difficulty in coping.
“Simon?”
I snapped back to attention, following the doctor. He led me through the double doors, into the High Dependency Intensive Care Unit. My heart plummeted as we passed bed after bed containing people hooked up to every machine possible. He led me into a small cubical. A nurse sat at the end of the bed and machines surrounded the rest of it.
Emma lay motionless, her skin pale and her face drawn. Tears pierced my eyes as I stared at her, unsure of how to react. She looked like she was sleeping, like at any moment she’d wake up and I would take her home. Tubes ran everywhere connecting to huge serious looking machines. A heart monitor beeped regularly. I tried to focus on that, knowing so long as that beeped regularly at least I knew she was still alive.
The nurse smiled at me, motioning for me to come closer. My heart pounding, I edged around the bed until I was standing right up against it. The safety rail was raised, pressing into my abdomen as I leaned in to take her hand. It was warm and soft and if I closed my eyes I could imagine we were at home, curled up in bed together.
Leaning forward, I kissed her, careful not to disturb the tubes. Catching sight of her bump, a wave of guilt swept through me. I’d been so focused on Emma that our baby had escaped my thoughts. Some father I was, I had no idea if our baby was okay because I hadn’t thought to fucking ask.
What the hell was I going to do? I had no answer.
An oversized armchair sat in the corner of the room behind me. It looked like it had seen better days, with its red vinyl beginning to fade and wear and tear starting to show through. As I dragged it closer to the bed, I wondered just how many people had used this as a makeshift bed. It was at least comfortable, though I didn’t know if I’d still be saying that in ten hours.
“How is she?” I asked the nurse, more just for conversation than actually expecting a useful answer.
“She’s stable, her vitals are steady. They are both good signs at this stage,” she replied. I
nodded, my eyes not leaving Emma. I reached for her hand, her soft skin felt like silk against my own. She had to make it, I wasn’t going to let her leave me.
Chapter Twelve
Simon
It was dark when the nurse woke me. She hadn’t done it purposely, she was just doing her routine vitals check on Em. She smiled at me sympathetically and it was only then I realized it was a different nurse than earlier. Rubbing my neck I peered over at Em, desperate to see any change, anything at all to indicate she was still with me and that she wasn’t going to leave me all alone.
There was nothing, just the occasional beeping of the machines and the rise and fall of her chest to the rhythm of the machines.
“What time is it?” I croaked, my throat feeling like sandpaper.
“Six in the morning,” the nurse smiled. “There is coffee down past the nurses’ station,” she offered as I tried to reposition myself, my back letting me know what it thought of almost twelve hours in this damn chair.
“Thanks,” I said, covering a yawn. I readjusted my hand, laying it top of hers. Did she know I was here? Did she realize how much she meant to me?
“What time does the doctor do his rounds?” I asked the nurse. I strained to read her nametag. ‘Lucy’. I wanted to be sure I was here when the doctor came through. Any new information about Em’s condition I wanted to know about it.
“On a Saturday? Usually around eight,” Lucy replied.
Saturday? Shit. Maddie. Guilt flooded through me as I remembered our plans for the weekend. We were supposed to be taking her fishing and she had been talking about it all week. Thinking of Maddie only made me think of all the people I needed to notify and how that was the last thing, I wanted to do right now. The only place I wanted to be right now, was by Ems side.
She’d been in a coma for twelve hours and I hadn't told anybody?
What the hell was wrong with me?
It was too early to call anyone now and I had no idea how to even reach her parents. Maybe Cass would know. Her parents had been overseas for a few months now and weren’t due back for a few more.
Would they even come back? Of course they would, it wasn’t like she had a cold, she was in a coma. I hated that I’d even considered they might not come back for her.
While Em had been quick to forgive her parents for lying to her, I was less than keen to do the same. The way they had dealt with their daughters’ recovery following her abduction disgusted me. Emma deserved better than the way she had been treated and all that time for her to have a whole other family she didn’t know about…
Maria was someone I’d need to call too. We had spoken quite a few times now and we actually got along really well. I loved that she was part of Em’s life now. Em didn’t know, but I was planning to fly Maria and her family over for our wedding. It was going to be such a surprise for her, but one I was sure she’d love after she got over the initial shock.
My heart ached as I thought about our wedding. Marrying Em was something I’d known I wanted to do since she’d gone into that damn caravan park to try and confront Moosly. That was the moment where I realized I didn’t want to imagine my life without this girl. Planning the proposal had been hard work because if there was ever a person who was suspicious about everything, it was Em. I had enlisted Cass to help me plan it. After I’d gone all out for our three month anniversary, I knew it had to be something pretty special. A romantic candlelit dinner for two on her balcony, overlooking the city lights, had been the perfect beginning to the night. I had been so nervous knowing what was sitting in my pocket, and suddenly learning her favorite song on the guitar so I could serenade her seemed like the most ridiculous idea in the world.
The way Em looked at me when I pulled out the guitar that Tom had loaned me made my heart race. Any woman that can get me singing ‘Real Love’ in front of her has to be pretty special. The feeling I felt when I knelt down in front of her was second to none. As I slipped the white gold diamond ring onto her finger, I couldn’t help but gloat that I’d picked it myself.
The look on her face was something I would remember forever, as was the ‘yes’ that followed.
Sighing, I moved around in the chair again, my hand snaked between the rails holding Em’s hand while my finger tracing the outline of her ring. I’d organize things as soon as it was an acceptable enough time to call people, but right now I needed to be here with Em.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma
The blackness is terrifying. I wanted to open my eyes so badly but I can't. My eyelids are so heavy it feels like they are made of lead and every time I try to open them I can't. I strain to recognize the voices around me.
I can hear them clearly. Someone is holding my hand. I try to concentrate. The smoothness of the skin, the slightly raised freckle on the side of the thumb and the unevenness of the nails.
It's Simon. He bites his nails when he gets nervous, something I am forever telling him off about. A tiny fragment of my anxiety disappears knowing he is here with me.
My heart starts pounding, as I remember bean. I hope she's okay. I can't feel her moving and at this stage I have no way of knowing whether she is still inside me, or even alive. I try to squeeze Simon's hand, but again, I can't. Instead, I concentrate on the sound of him inhaling and exhaling.
Something beeps continuously next to me, almost like a ticking clock, but louder. Something hard and uncomfortable is wedged down my windpipe. It makes me feel like dry retching, but of course, I can't.
By now I've figured out, I'm in hospital. The sounds of the machines, Simon's hand grasped in mine and the distant chatter of other people. There is no other explanation, at least not in my mind.
How long have I been like this? Hours? Days? Weeks?
I don't know and it's the not knowing that scares me, as does the fact that I am aware of what is going on, yet I can't communicate. Every few minutes I hear the vibration of his phone, the same vibration that wakes me up every morning, just as his alarm is going off.
I wonder who he is texting. Is it Claire?
"Mr. Anderson," a male voice announces. I can't place the voice and the more I try to figure out what the hell is going on, the more my head hurts. Next to me I hear the sound of the cushion on the seat filling with air as Simon stands up. I know he’s standing up because he has let go of my hand. The warmth that was being kept inside is slowly seeping out.
"How is she?" Simon's voice is low and there is a rawness to his tone. Has he been crying?
"Let's talk outside," the doctor says.
No! I want to scream, talk in here. I so badly need to know what's going on. I listen as their footsteps fade into the hallway. I want to scream, or cry, or just let someone know I'm here, but I can’t.
Am I dying?
I'm not in much pain, apart from the dull throbbing ache in my head. It's not knowing what the hell is going on that is upsetting me the most. It's always been that way, the uncertainty driving me crazy and I know that stems back to my childhood. Strangely, I'm so damn thirsty and though the muscles in my throat don’t react to the tube that is shoved down it, it’s so uncomfortable.
My heart jumps as a hand touches my arm.
"Hi Emma, how are you today, honey? It's Lucy again," her voice is friendly and warm and no more familiar than the male voice. She obviously knows who I am though. Her hand runs over my stomach and my breath catches in my throat. "And how's the little one?"
The relief that floods through me is indescribable, the steady beeping speeds up slightly, which makes me think it's a heart monitor. That and the fact that it’s actually beeping in sync with the pounding in my chest.
Bean. She must be still alive. In actual fact I have no idea whether we’re having a boy or a girl, but I have a feeling. Either way, I will be happy. Lucy's fingers rest on my wrist and I know she is taking my pulse.
"I'm just going to put the thermometer in your ear, okay?"
Knowing what to expect makes it much less scary. I assu
me Lucy is my nurse and I love her for talking to me, even though I'm not responsive. I make a mental note to hunt her down and thank her when I recover…if I recover…
"All good, Emma. Your vitals are steady and so are your baby's." Her voice is soothing as her hand strokes my forehead, a gesture I find reassuring. I hear footsteps and the voices of the doctor and Simon. I strain to listen to what they are saying but all I catch are odd words.
Baby. Surgery. Coma. Embolism.
Those four words make me wish I couldn't hear. Would this be better if I just went to sleep and woke up when I came out of this coma, or whatever it was? Or didn't?
"Her vitals are stable, I've been giving regular IV fluid and pain relief," Lucy says, now sounding like she's standing at the foot of the bed, or at least no longer next to me.
"Good. Well, we just wait. I want hourly fetal heart readings and let me know if there are any changes. If we can keep her in there for another week, she’ll have the best chance, then I think the best option will be to get her out. The less stress on Emma, the better her chances at recovery are. Any change I want to know about, okay?" he says clearly.
The doctor's words leave me feeling a mix of joy and sadness.
He’d said ‘her’ as in a girl.
My little girl. I'm going to have a daughter. Pride swells inside of me like a giant wave running onto a sandy shore, but along with the joy, I feel anger. Anger that I can't remember what came before this and that I can’t be there for Simon. Just the thought of how hard this must be for him makes me want to cry.
Simon’s hand encases mine again and I instantly feel my body relax.
“We’re having a little girl, Em, just like you said. I should’ve let you buy the pink paint after all,” he chuckles sadly. I want to laugh as I remember our little argument in the paint store. “You have to hold on, okay? I’m not doing this without you.”
All I want to do is comfort him and it’s hell knowing that I can’t. The feeling of helplessness is torture and I vow to do all I can to be there for him in the future.
Incredible Beauty (So Many Reasons) Page 6