by Liz Crowe
I don’t get my usual admonishment; instead, I hear him blurt out, “Kimmer, you need to come.”
There’s an urgency in his voice that frightens me. “Come where?”
“To the hospital. Please, Kimmer.”
“What’s wrong? Oh, god, Michael, is Robyn okay?”
“Robyn’s fine. It’s Jasper.”
The room starts to spin. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“He was picking up his car from long-term parking at the airport about nine hours ago and a guy jumped him. Stole his wallet. Took them all this time to find Melissa. She’s at the hospital with him now.”
“What? NO! God, Michael . . .”
“Knifed him in the back. He was bleeding out when an airport employee found him. They’ve had to remove a kidney. Liver lacerations. He’s in bad shape, Kimmer. I didn’t know if you’d want to . . .”
Struggling to keep from fainting, I choke out, “Where? Where do I go? Oh, god, Michael, where do I need to be?”
I write down everything he tells me and run out the door, even though I hear him yelling how he wants me to call a cab to keep from having an accident. I’m in such a hurry that I forget my bag and have to go back for it because I don’t have my keys. In the process of getting there, I run three stoplights and two stop signs. True to Michael’s fears, it’s a miracle I don’t get myself killed; at least once, a car slides sideways in the intersection to avoid me, but I don’t care. I’ve got to get there. Seeing him is all that matters. To my surprise, on my arrival they tell me at the front desk that they’ve been told to bring me right up – Michael must’ve called ahead. He’s been moved to the intensive care unit, and no one will tell me how bad it is or how he is. I’m just escorted to the room. When we get close, the nurse points and says, “Right there.”
Dread fills me when I see the door up ahead. If I do this, go in there, there’s a really good chance that he’ll send me away if he sees me, and if he does, I’ll die. Shaking from head to toe, I creep to the doorway and I can hear voices. Melissa’s soft one says, “I know, but I don’t care. College can wait. This is my dad. I can get another semester; I only have one dad.” There’s another soft voice, one that seems familiar but I can’t make it out, and then Melissa’s again when she says, “I know. He’s been so down. He just won’t fight.”
Rounding the doorway silently, I’m stunned to find Melissa sitting there next to Jaz’s bed and, of all people, Candy sitting on the other side, holding his hand. I suddenly feel completely out of place, but when Candy looks up and sees me, she whispers out, “Kimberly! Oh, thank god you’re here. Come – sit down.”
Melissa stands and hugs me. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. Thank you so much for coming.”
“I had to. I couldn’t stay away. Look, Melissa, about . . .”
She holds a hand up in front of my face. “Forget it. Forget it all. It’s water under the bridge. The only thing that matters right now is Dad. I don’t know if he’ll be able to hear you or not, but please, try to talk to him.”
Stuttering, I blurt out and motion to Candy, “But if the two of you are in a relationship, I should just . . .”
Candy’s blond hair whips as she shakes her head energetically. “No, Kimberly, it’s not like that, not at all. Michael and Robyn introduced us. Jaz gave Petunia and me a place to live. We’ve been there since Mr. Augustino died. He’s been really, really good to me. Hasn’t asked me for a thing, just wants me to have a safe place to raise my daughter. He’s such a good man.” A lone tear trickles down her cheek as she turns to look back at the still form in the bed, pats his hand, and repeats, “Such a good man.”
For the first time since I entered the room, I let myself look down at Jaz. He looks twenty pounds lighter and so frail in that bed. His skin is white and pasty, and his lips are barely parted. I can hear his tiny, shallow breaths as they whistle in and out through those lips that kissed me and delighted me. Try as I might, I can’t help it.
I start to cry. I look into his face and I see all the times we laughed, all the kisses we shared, and all the times he whispered, “I love you, Kimmie,” in the dark. Regret and remorse burn behind my breastbone with nothing to soothe them. This is karma come to exact its vengeance, but why Jaz? Why not me? Guilt overwhelms me, and I know it won’t go away anytime soon.
I’m sure my eyes are anxious when I turn them to Melissa. “What do I do?”
“Just hold his hand and talk to him. He may or may not hear you. But try.”
My fingers take his gently, and then I feel the warmth of his palm against mine. I hope all the love and longing I feel for him is passed along in that simple touch. I did a terrible thing. I thought horrible things of him. Looking back, I’m not sure why I was so willing to do that. Sure, the counseling is helping to bring that to the surface, but Jaz never deserved that. Did I really believe I wasn’t entitled to the joy he brought to my life, all the passion and happiness and security? And I know that was it. I felt he was too good for me.
I felt he was too good to be true.
And now the man I love, will always love, lies here fighting for his life and he’s spent all these months alone. But I realize he hasn’t been alone, not really. He’s had Melissa and Candy and her baby, and Michael and Robyn. It’s not the same, but he hasn’t been alone, and I’m grateful to them for the love they gave him when I abandoned him. Still, some part of me hopes that some feeling remains for me, even though knowing it does will haunt me for the rest of my life. As I hold his hand, Melissa picks up a cloth, dips it into some ice water in a bowl by the bed, and wipes it across his forehead and all over his face. When she finishes, his eyes open and he smiles at her. Through chalky lips, he whispers, “Thank you, baby.”
“I love you, Daddy. Look who’s here to see you.” With that, she points at me and his eyes swivel in my direction.
I hold my breath. Even though I halfway believe he’ll summon the strength to yell at me and order me out of his room, I pray that’s not what happens. It’s as though it takes him a minute to figure out who I am.
But my heart breaks when he croaks out, “Kimmie? Is that you, baby girl? Please, god, tell me it’s really you.”
On my feet in an instant and leaning over him, I whisper against his forehead, “It’s me, Master. I’m right here. Oh, god, Jaz, please tell me you love me.”
He squeezes my hand gently and whispers back, “I never stopped, angel. I never stopped.”
They can hear me sobbing out in the hallway, and I don’t care. I don’t care who hears me, sees me, even takes a picture of me doing my ugly cry. My broken heart empties out onto his chest as I sob and clutch his hand, and all I can think about is all the time I’ve wasted and all the years we would’ve had if I hadn’t been so crazy and stubborn. One weak hand comes up and strokes my hair. “I love you, Kimmie. It’ll all be okay. You’ll be fine.”
“No. Not without you. You can’t leave me, you hear me?”
“I’m really, really tired and it hurts a lot.”
“I don’t care. You listen to me and listen good. There aren’t words to tell you how sorry I am.” He tries to shush me, but I grab his hand. “No, I need to say this. When I think about how I treated you, I’m so damned ashamed that I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I treated you like you were some kind of criminal. Do you know what Meredith said when she called me?” He gives his head a little shake. “She left a very nice message. She told me that the two of you had no idea who the other was involved with, and that she hoped we hadn’t had problems over it. I realized later that if the woman who had hated you enough to, well, you know, would go to such lengths to clear your name with me, she must be telling the truth. And then when I came home and my stuff was there, and I went to your house and . . .”
“Kimmie.” There’s an authoritative quality to his voice even though he’s weak, and it stops me in my tracks. It’s not the voice of Jaz Givens. It’s the voice of my Master, and everything in me automatically
throws itself at his feet. “I love you. We’ll not speak of this again. I don’t know what you did with it, but I’d like it if . . .”
The ring on my left hand sparkles as I hold it up so he can see it, and I see a feeble smile stretch across his face. “I never took it off. I couldn’t. Even when I scened at the club, I wore it. No matter what happened, my heart’s belonged to you the whole time.”
“Good. Because mine belongs to you.” He gazes up at me with such love and adoration that I tune up again, weeping right out loud. “Now listen to me. I’ve got to rest. And if I don’t wake up, I love you, Kimmie. You and Melissa were the brightest spots in my whole life. If I could go back and do everything over, somehow erase all the things that tore us apart, I would. Now sit down and get some rest. If I wake up, we’ll talk again, okay?”
“O-o-o-okay. Okay. I love you. I’ll be right here.” Before I can get into the chair Candy’s pushed up to the bed for me, Jaz’s eyes close and he’s out again.
I sit there all night. It gives me plenty of time to think, and I decide right then that if he doesn’t make it, I’m done. He’ll be the last Dominant I ever commit to. There’ll be no more. The thought of submitting to another man makes my bones melt and turns my heart to mush. A couple of times I get up and go to the bathroom, but I rush right back to his bedside, terrified that something will happen to him and I won’t be there. Melissa tells me she’s going out to the waiting room to lie down on the couch and to come and get her if I need her. Candy takes her place. When I ask where the baby is, she tells me that Michael and Robyn are keeping her while she sits with Melissa and me.
At around seven the next morning, as I’m alone sitting there by his bed, an alarm goes off and nurses come running from every direction. A doctor comes in, and there’s a lot of whispering between the doctor and the nurses who’ve been tending to Jaz. He asks, “Where’s the daughter?” and I sprint down the hallway to get her.
Her face falls when she walks in and sees the doctor. “What? What’s wrong?”
“He’s not improving. We’re not sure what’s going on, but he’s getting weaker instead of stronger, and his blood pressure’s dropping. There’s got to be more internal bleeding. Another surgery could kill him, but I really think he’ll die without it.”
The weight of the world falls on me when Melissa turns to me. “Kimmie? Do you want them to do this?”
“What are his chances without it?”
The doctor looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds like he’s calculating, then looks back to me and says, “About five percent. Truth be known, probably a lot less.”
My stomach clenches with those words. “And with it?”
“No real way of knowing, but I’m pretty sure it’s better than five percent.”
I fix him with a glare. “If this were your wife?”
“I’d do it.”
I nod, sure of my decision. “Then do it.” I see Melissa nodding out of my peripheral vision, and I know it’s the right thing to do. “When will we know?”
The doctor answers, “As soon as I do. You’ll be kept in the loop.” Melissa and I both slam ourselves against the wall as they whisk his bed out the door and down the hall.
We’re sitting there, waiting, for about six hours. Nurses come in and out, telling us what’s going on. More bleeding found. More repairs done. More time.
At four thirty, they tell us he’s in recovery. It’s seven o’clock that evening before they bring him back to an ICU room. And we wait. We wait for him to wake up, to seem to be coming around, to get some good news on his vitals. I hold his hand and wipe his face with the cold cloth, and pray over and over that his eyes will pop open and he’ll tell me that he loves me. Nurses wander in and out but say nothing.
The next day is just as quiet, and we keep silent vigil. I realize I haven’t had a shower or brushed my teeth in three days, and I really don’t care. At four o’clock, the nurse comes in and does what nurses do, and leaves just like always. But in fifteen minutes, the doctor’s there, and panic blooms in my chest as I watch them conferring, looking at his chart, and checking various machines and monitors at his bedside. With no hint of Jaz’s status on his face, he motions for Melissa and me to come out into the hall. Once we’ve leaned up against the wall and taken each other’s hands, the physician pulls off his glasses, slips them into his pocket, and says with a tiny smile, “His vitals are stable. If this trend continues, he’ll be out of the woods in forty-eight hours.”
My knees are wobbly and my heart is pounding in my ears when I breathe out, “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.” Melissa and I grab each other and hug.
We’re on the road up.
*****
“Are we about done? Because I want to get out of here.”
“And I want you to get out of here. Nothing personal,” the nurse says, growling playfully.
“No offense taken,” Jaz snarls.
“Yeah, yeah. You can’t go anywhere until your doctor comes in to see you. So you might as well just chill out.”
“Thanks, Nurse Ratched.”
“You’re welcome, McMurphy,” she tosses back along with the wave over her shoulder as she heads out the doorway. He’s become a favorite on the urology floor. The nurses all flirt with him, even the male ones, and he makes everyone laugh.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You are incorrigible, Mr. Givens.”
“And you’re precious, Ms. Hendricks.” When he manages to catch my eye, he winks at me and I just melt. “I sure wish he . . . well, hello there, Dr. Larsson!”
“Hello, Mr. Givens. How are you feeling?”
“Like I want to go HOME,” Jaz almost shouts.
“Well, trust me, I want you to go home. Nothing personal,” Dr. Larsson adds.
“No offense taken,” Jaz laughs.
“Oddly, I don’t care,” Dr. Larsson replies and, just as Jaz starts to say something, the doctor starts laughing. “Gotcha that time!”
“Damn. I’m losing my touch.”
“Yeah, must’ve gone with that kidney,” the doctor quips. “Okay, here’s the deal. Remember, you’ve now got one kidney doing the work of two. So watch your sodium intake. Watch your calcium intake. Watch your carbonated beverage intake. Watch your sugar intake. You also have to make sure you stay well hydrated. Oh, and beer is your friend, but not too much. One a day is good for your kidneys. Couldn’t hurt your sense of humor either.”
“Oh, hahaha,” Jaz snorts.
“Exactly. Otherwise, you’re on probation for at least four more weeks. Got that, missy?” Dr. Larsson slings in my direction.
“Got it. Although I don’t know how I’m going to make him do anything. He’s kinda hard-headed.”
Jaz sits right straight up. “Hey, wait a minute . . .”
“Yeah, I see that,” Dr. Larsson deadpans. “Maybe you should get yourself a ball bat to threaten him with.”
“Right here. Sitting right here. I can hear everything you’re saying,” Jaz play shouts.
“Maybe I should.” I turn and look him dead in the eye. “Are you going to give me any trouble, mister?”
“Not if there’s ice cream.”
Dr. Larsson is laughing at us. “You guys crack me up. Got any other questions?”
“Um, so what kind of restrictions do I have? You know, like climbing ladders, or mowing grass, or sex. You know, stuff like that.”
“You’re not climbing or mowing. That’s not what you’re wanting to know about. I know what you’re wanting to know about. And as long as you feel like doing it, do it. No gymnastics, but regular sex is fine.”
“Define ‘regular,’” Jaz says with a smirk.
“I’m not painting you a picture. Just try to use some common sense and if you’re in doubt, ask her. She seems to have all of hers and most of yours.”
Jaz grimaces. “Wow. Thanks. I love you too.”
“Nice to know. Well, okay I think that’s it. Make an appointment for four weeks from now and I’l
l see you then. And I’d better get a good report on you or I’ll take that other kidney.”
Jaz cuts his eyes at Dr. Larsson and his brow furrows. “Over my dead body.”
“Yep – that’s the way it’s worked in the past, as I recall. Good luck. And special good luck to you, ma’am. I think you’re going to need it.”
I nod. “Thanks.” As soon as he’s gone, Jaz starts packing up everything in the room. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m convinced they’re trying to poison me.”
“Jaz?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“We need to talk.” That gets his attention.
“Okay. I guess we do.” He sits down next to me on the edge of his hospital bed. “So what do you want to talk about?”
“Where are you going when you leave here?”
He gives me a strange look. “Well, home, of course.”
“Is Melissa coming?”
Now he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “No. She’s got school. God knows she’s got enough work to make up.” Then he stops and his face falls. “Kimmie, do you not want to come home with me? I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s okay, but I just thought . . . I mean, I didn’t ask, but I, well, if you don’t . . .”
“No, no, I do! I just didn’t know if you wanted me there or not.” I hesitate for a few seconds, then say, “What I did to you was wrong. And I’m sorry. With the therapy, I’m understanding more about why I did it, but I still did it and it hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry for that. I would understand if you never wanted me in your life again.”
He reaches over and takes one of my hands. “Listen, we’re both at fault here. You jumped to a crazy conclusion that I never gave you reason to reach. And I wasn’t very patient. I should’ve given you more time to calm down and come around, but I was just so hurt that I didn’t think I could move back into the relationship.”
I feel a tear roll down my cheek. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am. I hurt myself in the process.”