by Tracey Ward
Then it's too early for ice cream, I chided softly.
Never.
Wake up, I insisted.
No.
Please.
Why?
I laid my hand on his chest, followed the slow rise and fall. I could feel his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. Mine ached in my chest feeling hollow. Empty.
"Parce que Je t'aime," I whispered brokenly.
Becuase I love you,
"Et il vous manque de moi."
And you are missing from me.
Chapter Seventeen
I refused to leave the hospital after that. Even though Kellen demanded ice cream for another five minutes then fell silent, I stayed. A few hours later he was talking again, still in French, and I was by his side doing my best to talk back. Sometimes he heard me, sometimes he ignored me. Sometimes his skills in the language blew mine away and I had no idea what he was talking about. Every time he spoke, Laney and mom insisted I tell him we were there. I did but it never made a difference. He didn’t know who we were.
The doctors weren’t surprised by any of it. They also weren’t as encouraged as we’d hoped they’d be. They said the fact that he was speaking to his mother who had passed away was a probable sign that the swelling in his brain had blocked oxygen and caused permanent damage meaning he could wake up but think he was nine years old at best. He could think he was a child for the rest of his life.
During week three Laney got sick. She picked up a cold from somewhere, probably someone on the hotel staff since we only went two places and one was nearly sterile. Wherever she got it, it kept her out of Kellen’s room. His body, his great big powerful body, was weak and couldn’t be bothered with an infection of any kind. So she stayed out and it was only mom and I. That was awkward.
I hadn’t given much thought to what she’d said the day Kellen started talking, mostly because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think that she was right. Not about how I felt towards Kellen, but that it was sad.
“What time is it?” mom mumbled, sitting up groggily from the chaise she’d been sleeping on.
I glanced at my watch. “6:30 in the morning.”
She groaned. “Have you been sitting there like that all night?”
I was in a chair beside Kellen’s bed, the soft glow of my phone lighting my corner of the darkened room.
“Yeah.”
“You need to get some rest.”
“I think I dozed off for an hour or so.”
“That’s not rest. That’s your body trying not to die.” She paused, watching me. “You look exhausted.”
I smiled sadly. “I feel exhausted.”
“I’ll sit beside him when I get back with my coffee. You’ll sleep.”
I nodded my head, understanding it was an order and not a request.
When mom left the room, I struggled to stay awake. Knowing sleep was coming sent it rushing at me hard. I picked up my phone again and tried to read to stay awake. As my eyes drooped I read out loud to myself softly, hoping that speaking would force me to stay conscious. I didn’t know why I was so terrified to have none of us alert there with Kellen. It was as though I thought we were standing guard against Death himself and if we left him vulnerable for even a moment, that rotten son of a bitch would swoop in with his sickle and tear Kellen from us forever. Our hold on him felt that tenuous. It was torture.
“Jenna?”
My head snapped up. It had fallen forward when I’d fallen asleep, my lips still in motion. I jerked my eyes to the bed to look at Kellen. His dark eyes stared back at me.
“Kel?” I asked, shocked.
He grinned crookedly. “Hey.”
I dropped my phone to the floor where it clattered, probably broken. I didn’t care. I didn’t dare look away from his eyes. I was worried I was dreaming. That he was still asleep and so was I and we were sitting there silently side by side while my brain played wonderful tricks on me. Tricks where he was awake and alive and looking at me with that happy expression that broke my heart in two.
“Hi,” I whispered. I moved to touch him but realized I was beside his broken hand. It was where I always sat, guarding his weak side.
“Where…” he began before grimacing and pinching his lips together.
I leapt up. “Do you want water? Are you thirsty?”
He nodded, his eyes following me as I moved to fill a cup from a pitcher beside the bed. They stayed on me as I brought the straw to his lips. I watched him watching me and my body shivered every time he tracked my movements. He was alert. So aware, the way I always thought of him. And he knew my name.
“You remember me?” I asked when he was finished drinking.
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” He glanced around the room. “How long have I been out?”
“I should get the doctor,” I said, reaching for the nurse’s call button.
“Wait,” he said forcefully. I froze with my hand in midair. “Answer me. How long have I been out?”
I hesitated. “A few weeks. Kellen, I should really get the doctor. I don’t know how much to tell you or if I should tell you anything.”
“You should always tell me everything.”
“I don’t want to…”
“You don’t want to what?” he demanded.
I threw my hands in the air. “I don’t want to break your brain! You’ve been in a coma for three weeks and you were speaking French to me like I was your mom and asking for ice cream and we didn’t know if you’d know us when you woke up, if you woke up at all so I’m a little scared of what to say because what if it sends you back to sleep or something?”
Kellen stared at me blankly. I should have filtered myself better. I was too tired to know that though. I was too tired to be sure this wasn’t a hallucination either and I wavered slightly on my feet as I waited for him to respond.
He continued to frown at me. “I don’t even like ice cream.”
I could have both slapped him and kissed him then.
“Yeah, you do,” I told him impatiently. “You don’t like frozen yogurt. Or gelato.”
“Gelato and ice cream are the same thing.”
“Clearly not ‘cause you hate the hell out of one and you love the other.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“Are you fucking with me? How do you not know your own likes and dislikes? How is it that I have to know these things for you?”
He looked around the room again. His eyes were edgy. He was getting that caged look.
“Is it just you?” he asked quietly.
“No. Mom is here. She’s getting coffee. Laney is at the hotel sleeping. She caught a cold and can’t come in to see you until she’s over it.”
His eyes met mine briefly. “She’s okay then?”
“Yeah. She’s perfect.”
“The driver?”
“Both fine, though one is in jail. You got the worst of it.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes roamed around the room almost aimlessly. They fell anywhere but on me.
“I should really ring for the nurse.”
“Wait,” he said quickly, his eyes snapping to mine as his right hand reached out for me. He frowned at the clumsy cast covering his arm when it bumped against my side. “How bad is that?”
I tried not to grimace. “Pretty bad. They’re hoping for the best but they think you’ll still have some sensitivity.”
“It’ll ache when it rains?”
“Or burn like fire when you hit someone.”
He chuckled darkly, dropping his broken arm onto the bed. It felt like he was tossing it aside. Counting it worthless.
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t do that anymore, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that,” I muttered.
I didn’t like it. There, that was what I knew. I thought it was stupid, mean and selfish to ask Kellen to give up on something he loved. On something that I knew for a fact he needed because I felt the same way about drawing, painting and tattooing. It�
�s what made me… me. Call me crazy or jealous, but in my opinion if you feel like you have to rip the core from someone to love them, you never should have been with them in the first place.
“What were you reading to me?”
I could feel his eyes on me again. The weight, the heavy feel of them pressing on my skin. To avoid meeting that stare, I knelt down and picked up my discarded phone. It looked like it had survived.
“Nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. I heard you reading before you fell asleep. What was it?”
“A comic.”
“A comic book?” he asked, his voice surprised.
I shrugged, finally looking at him. My eyes were hard, ready for a fight. “A graphic novel, but yeah.”
“What one?”
“V for Vendetta.”
“Sit down. Keep reading.”
I shook my head, setting the phone on the nightstand. “I need to get the nurse. I should have done it already.”
“God, Jenna, please don’t,” he groaned, rubbing his face. I froze watching him. When he dropped his hand to look at me again his face was pinched. “I need a minute, okay? It’s a lot to take in finding out you’ve been out of the game for weeks. The last thing I remember is…” He swallowed before taking a deep breath. “I remember the night of the accident. It’s shattered and weird, but it’s the last thing I remember. A lot of crazy, loud noises, a whole lot of fuckin’ pain and then you sitting here in a silent room reading to me. I’m getting some serious whiplash here so please, give me a minute before you call in nurses and doctors. Especially before your mom and Laney.”
“Do you want me to go? To give you a minute alone?”
“No,” he said irritably. “I want you to sit your ass down and read me that damn book.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I was surprised by his tone but I wasn’t about to bow to it. I didn’t care if he just woke from a coma. I didn’t care if he just came back from the dead and wanted to tell me all about the river Styx and how he crotch punched the devil in the balls to break free. He wasn’t talking to me like that and getting away with it.
“Say the magic word or you can suck it, Kellen Coulter,” I told him sternly.
He looked at me for a long time, sizing me up. I don’t know what I expected. More growling, more groaning, complete silence.
I collapsed inside when he smiled. God had forever damned that man’s mouth because it brought me nothing but sheer joy, aching longing and the misery of knowing it would never be mine.
"S'il vous plait, Nonpareil."
I grinned reluctantly as I sat down, picking up my phone. “Oh, we’re bringing out the big guns now?”
“I know what works.”
“You’re the worst. How many women have you called that?”
His smile disappeared. “How many have I called Nonpareil?”
“Yeah.”
“One.”
“Just one, huh?”
“Just one,” he confirmed with a slow nod, his endless eyes holding mine. “You’re the only one. You’re beyond compare.”
I shook my head, chuckling and trying to shake off this feeling he was giving me. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Not to anyone. No matter how much I liked it.
“You’re so full of shit.”
“What? You’re too tough to take a compliment now?”
“I’m too wise to you to fall for your tricks. I’ve seen you in action. I know what this is.”
“What is it?”
“Flattery. Very, very good flattery, especially with those eyes and that smile,” I said, willing myself to look at him impassively. “Even five minutes out of a coma and you’ve got skills. It’s impressive but it’s empty. It’s just what you do.”
“Not with you,” he said, his voice low.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, really,” he replied seriously. “Never with you.”
I struggled to maintain eye contact and breathe evenly. This was stupid. It was dangerous and cruel.
“Do you want to hear this book or not?” I asked as harshly as I could.
He nodded, letting his head fall back on the pillow. “Let’s do this.”
“Don’t go to sleep.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m wide awake, Jenna.”
Five minutes passed while I read to him. Five minutes of Kellen and I and solitude. Five minutes that felt for the first time like the old days before the world turned on us and made everything so big and full and complicated. We both relaxed. We shared three hundred whole seconds of peace.
“Oh my God!”
And then it was gone.
I glanced over to see my mom standing in the doorway, her face stricken. She looked at me with desperate eyes.
“Jenna, is…”
“He’s awake,” I said, standing slowly.
She took a hesitant step inside, staring at Kellen in amazement. He looked back with a small grin on his face.
“Morning,” he said.
“Oh my God!” she cried again, running to him and hugging him hard. I saw Kellen’s mouth move beside her head as he spoke to her softly, her body shaking with sobs against him. It was then I realized that I hadn’t touched him. I hadn’t hugged him or even held his hand.
Eventually my mom composed herself and stood up, wiping at her eyes. Tears were still streaming down her face but she was smiling from ear to ear.
“What did Laney say when she found out?” she asked shakily. “Is she on her way? Can she come in even with her cold? Where are the doctors? What have they said?”
Kellen and I shared an uneasy glance. I was going to pay for this. For giving him what he wanted.
“I just woke up,” he lied easily. “Just seconds before you walked in. Jenna hasn’t had a chance to call the doctors yet.”
“Or Laney,” I added.
He nodded vaguely. “Or Laney.”
Mom made a disgusted sound as she reached for the call button. “Jenna, that’s reckless and thoughtless of you. What if he’d gone under again? He still might!”
“Mom, he’s sitting right here.”
“And he knows I’m right,” she said angrily.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“Don’t be sorry,” she snapped. “Be smart about things. How hard is that?!”
“Hey,” Kellen said, his voice angry.
“I’m gonna go,” I said as nurses began pouring into the room. I stepped quickly out of the way, inching along the wall to stay clear. “I’ll go meet Laney in the waiting room.”
No one answered me. No one said a word as I left and the chaos Kellen was dreading erupted around him. But I felt the weight on my back. The weight of his eyes and his words and something else. Something I hadn’t thought of in years. Something like Sublime and sweets and a song I couldn’t forget.
Chapter Eighteen
Laney blew past me in the waiting room with barely a glance. I didn't blame her. She tore through that hospital like a blonde blur, a nurse recognizing her, nabbing her and securing a mask to her face as they broke through the swinging doors. I wasn't really sure what I had thought my part to play was out there. She knew the way to his room and I didn't know any more than mom had told her on the phone. I was pretty ineffective at the moment and that's exactly how I felt.
I also felt weird leaving now that he was awake, but I went outside. I stepped into the damp sunlight, breathed the fresh air and wondered what would happen now. How long would it be before we could take him home? Now that he didn't need a translator did I even have a place here? A right? It felt like I had been pushed away but by who I wasn't sure. It definitely hadn't been Kellen. Was it me? Was I running? He was awake and alive, I should have been thrilled. I should have been shouting in the streets and dancing on air. I should have hugged him. So if that's what I was supposed to do, why was I out here in the rapidly cooling air shaking like a leaf in the wind about to welcome the Fall?
"Shit," I muttered to myself.
> I needed to sleep. I couldn't keep going half awake, half dead like this and expect to think straight.
As I walked down the busy New York street toward our hotel, I decided to call my dad. I didn't know if my mom would have called him already but once I thought about talking to him, I couldn’t shake the desire to do it.
"Hey, Jen," he said happily, answering on the second ring. "How is everyone?"
"Awake," I told him, though when I heard my voice I realized I sounded half asleep.
Dad hesitated. "Kellen is awake?"
"Yeah. He just woke up this morning. Mom and Laney are with him now."
"Where are you? Sounds like you're outside."
"I'm heading to the hotel to sleep. I was just coming off watch with him when he woke up."
"Did you talk to him? Did he remember you?" he asked anxiously.
"Yep. He knew me immediately." I grinned, remembering. "The first thing he said was my name."
Dad hooted loudly with excitement. It hurt my ear but my grin grew to a smile. I listened as he shouted for another couple of moments, I think I heard a 'booyah!' in there somewhere, then he was back.
"That is such a relief," he said breathlessly. I could hear the smile in his voice. "When can he come home? What do the doctors say?"
My smile faded. "I don't know exactly. Mom and Laney are talking to the doctors with him now."
"Why did you leave?" he asked, becoming lawyer alert.
"I was tired."
"Which one did it?"
"What?"
"Which one of the girls upset you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Kellen is awake but you left. Just like that. You're tired, I believe that, but you're also his closest friend. You wouldn't have just up and left him. He didn't upset you enough to leave, men don't intimidate you, but women do."
"They do not!" I cried indignantly.
"They do," he countered firmly. "It's because you don't understand them. You're better with men. You get them. You can handle yourself with them. Women, especially women like Laney and your mother, they don't make sense to you and they get under your skin. So I'll ask you one more time, which one was it that upset you enough to make you leave that room?"