by W. Winters
“She killed herself on the table.” The comment is made harshly. All I can do is try to move my fingers again. Please, move, some part of me move.
“I still can’t believe she did that. I can’t believe that poor woman killed herself.”
What? No I didn’t. I try to swallow so I can scream at the woman making accusations that aren’t true but it’s so dry it hurts. Fuck, it all hurts. Writhing is futile, there’s no escape from my still state.
“She tried to kill herself before even being on that table…”
“I don’t understand why. I liked her. She was so sweet, always bringing in the hats for the babies and the random flowers.”
I stop trying to do anything but listen to them.
“I was shocked too but then I got to thinking, why was she always here? For months that blonde was hanging out on the benches at the park constantly. She’d be in the lobby all the time…” The one nurse’s voice trails off.
“You know she was troubled and she was mourning.” The second nurse’s tone is riddled with remorse.
The first female voice, the skeptic who first brought up the sweets, says, “I think she’d decided she was going to kill herself here and she was just waiting for the guts to do it.”
“Then why do it at a hospital where we could save her if she really meant it? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’d like to believe she didn’t want to die, but when she did it on the table….”
“Well either way, it’s a bloody miracle she did it when she did.”
“And how she did it… if she had bled out, that heart wouldn’t have been any good.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. It’s too much.”
“That’s too much? Of everything you’ve seen.”
“Just stop… what’s her pulse?”
“It’s high.”
“Give her more meds.”
“You know they say she’s one of them.”
“What?”
“The blonde girl… the one whose heart this one got. The one with the sweets in her pocket. Maybe God didn’t want anyone else to have that heart. And that’s why she’s not waking up.”
“One of them? Like one of… Marcus’s?” I barely hear her when she whispers, but still the goosebumps run down my arms. Do they see it? Can they tell that I can hear them? I can hear you!
“Yes. You know she is. One of the troubled ones.”
“No, we don’t know that. As far as I know, that man, Marcus, doesn’t even exist. She was a sad woman who lived a horrible life and went through hell. She didn’t want to go through it anymore. That’s all. And luckily, she happened to end her life the moment that this woman needed her heart. Like I said, it’s a bloody miracle.”
“What the hell are you two doing?” A third voice interrupts the morbid conversation.
A woman killed herself… she killed herself and I got her heart as a result? If I was capable, I’d be sick. I’d be physically sick. Everything processes slowly. A blonde who hung out. A blonde who was waiting to kill herself.
As it stands, I’m merely lightheaded and feeling the edge of my world turn cold and dark.
Their conversation is barely audible and only pieces are heard.
The blonde girl.
The sweets.
Why isn’t she waking up?
I hear them, but I can’t answer. I can’t question them. A blonde girl. For the longest time, all I can see, all I can think about is Cami. But when sleep pulls me under, I remember the girl in the coffee shop. The girl who looked so much like her. The girl who gave me chills.
I hope I remember when I wake up. But the conversations blur and the next time I’m in and out, I don’t remember anything, but I can move my fingers that much more.
Beep, beep. My head hurts. My body’s stiff.
When I open my eyes, all I want to do is rub the tired ache from them but I can barely move my arm. It feels as if I’ve run a marathon and I can’t even stand power walking. Everything is so damn sore.
Rolling my head to the side, I feel the groan before I hear it leave me.
Fuck, it all hurts.
“Miss Roth, Miss Roth,” I hear someone say. The voice is peppy and comes from my right. “I’m Nurse Hale.”
My blurry vision comes into focus to show me a young brunette woman, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. Her blue scrubs are loose on her. She’s a tiny little thing and her feminine tone matches her aesthetic.
“Water.” Before the word is even fully out of my mouth, I hear her pour a cup of it but then she’s frantic, looking for a straw.
“A straw, a straw… she’s up! Page neurology.” I don’t know who she tells the last part to, but she’s in my face with a plastic straw and I greedily suck it down.
It smells like flowers. Like heaven. As I pull my knees up, stretching my aching muscles, I feel my chenille throw, my favorite throw from the sofa and I pull it close to me, smelling it. It usually smells like Seth. Like his cologne or his body wash. Right now it doesn’t and my chest feels hollow.
“Seth,” I say, whispering his name, feeling the loss and suddenly very scared to be in a hospital.
“He’s here, he’s just waiting downstairs. Let me get him for you,” she says and the nurse rushes her words out, obviously excited but I reach up, gripping her arm.
“Wait,” I say and my heart races, but it’s different. It’s a steady gallop. “What happened?”
The smile slips from the nurse’s pretty face.
“Do you know who you are?” she asks me.
“Laura Roth.” She nods at my answer, holding my hand and taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
“And do you know where you are?”
“Hospital. I know… I know I was waiting on a transplant… I…” The memories come back slowly. Delilah… the accident. “I was hit by a car.”
“Yes, and you suffered a number of injuries, most of them minor and healed now. In the process you also got a heart transplant.”
“And my baby?” I ask and my voice is strained. My hands pressed to my stomach that’s obviously flat. My eyes are watery.
“He’s downstairs, survived the delivery, had an immediate surgery and then two more. He’s a trooper and a sweet, happy, healthy baby boy.”
“He’s healthy?” Overwhelming emotions force me to cover my mouth. As she nods, all I can think is that we made it. We’re okay. We’re all okay.
“It was a rough road, a bit touch and go for him at first, but he’s much better now.” She continues, “Your… significant other, Seth, is downstairs with him in pediatrics as we speak. I’ll go tell them you’re awake.”
Before she can stand, I tell her to wait. “I just… I need a minute.”
“I understand. You’ve been in here for quite some time. It’s been almost a month.”
A month. That knowledge is crushing. I’ve been in here for a month? My hands shake and I cover my face again, lifting my legs up and holding my knees to my chest.
“The doctors will be in shortly to make sure everything’s all right.”
I can only nod, my forehead resting against the blanket. The sweet nurse rubs my back the entire time.
“The important thing is that you got a new heart, the surgery went well, and now you’re all right. We were worried you weren’t going to wake up.”
As I sit there, gathering my composure and swallowing down the fact that a month of my life is gone, my baby boy is here, and I have a steady heartbeat, little memories start to come back. Overheard conversations.
“You were very lucky that a heart happened to become available when you were brought in. If someone had planned it, it couldn’t have been more perfect timing.”
A distant memory comes back. A conversation.
“From the blonde who killed herself.”
“What?” The shock in her voice makes me raise my gaze to the wide-eyed woman.
“I heard you talking. Or your friend. I don’t remember.”
My head hurts and I need more water. She holds it for me, apologizing profusely for her lack of professionalism.
“You couldn’t have known that I could hear.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Roth.” She looks mortified.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I offer her with a smile and then take another large gulp. “Who is she? The woman?”
“I didn’t know her personally.”
“But you knew of her? A few of you did.”
“She was a troubled woman, about your age. She’d been in before for overdose; it was an attempted suicide. And then she hung around outside and donated baby blankets she’d crocheted. She was here a lot… and then when you came in, it wasn’t even ten minutes later that she arrived and tried to cut herself out front. We brought her in and before we could do anything…”
She doesn’t finish, but I remember what the one nurse said. “She cut her throat open.”
“Yes. There was no way to save her. It wasn’t a cry for help.” Her somber voice drops even lower. “She was just ready to go. And she happened to be a match for you, so…”
“I’m freezing,” I comment to change the subject and pull the throw around my shoulders. I feel awful for the poor girl. Benefiting from her sadness feels so wrong.
“Hey… she may have died, but she was able to save you. And that’s a beautiful silver lining if ever there was one.”
All I can do is force a tight smile. “I am happy to be alive.”
“You’re not the only one… do you want to see your baby?”
Seth
“One time, we’d only been dating for…” I rack my memory, trying to place the moment as I rock in the chair. Our little boy likes to hear stories about us. In the last few weeks I’ve learned the more I talk to him, the longer he sleeps. So I tell him stories and our little prince naps in between bottles. Three more days of him doing this well, and we’ll be able to leave. It’s both the best news and the worst, because Laura still hasn’t woken up.
I only tell him the good parts to make sure he has the sweetest dreams and it helps me too, to remember all the moments in my life with Laura. They are the best memories I have.
I let my nose fall to his little head, where his soft baby hair tickles my nose as I kiss his noggin. Turning my cheek to his head so my breath doesn’t disturb him, I tell him, “We’d been dating for a few months. Back then, your mommy didn’t want to believe I loved her. And I know I didn’t love her as much as I do now, but I swear I did. She was strong and beautiful and even though I knew I wasn’t good enough for her, I still wanted to kiss her because I thought it would make her happy and I wanted so badly to make her happy.”
My voice breaks for a moment and I close my eyes, rocking him. It happens sometimes, when the reality creeps in and the overwhelming sadness keeps me from being able to tell him the good parts.
“She loved me though. I could feel it. There’s this little piece inside of you,” I whisper as I rock him in the nursery. It’s only the two of us in this room. “There’s something inside of you and it tells you where to go. It always led me to your mommy, little prince. And I could feel it, I could see it in your mother’s eyes. She felt it too. So I knew if I waited long enough, she’d always come back to me.”
I open my eyes so they stay dry. They’re sore and bloodshot from not being able to sleep. How can I? When any moment she’s going to wake up for us. I know she will. She has to.
Swallowing thickly, I get back to my story, to the good part that our son needs to hear.
“This one time, she nearly said it. She almost said ‘I love you’ even though she wouldn’t even call me her boyfriend. Your mother… she’s a stubborn girl with a wild spirit but she’s so good to the ones she loves. She’s the best of any person I ever met and she loves so hard. She loves you. If she could tell you that now she would. She’s the kind of person who says it every day even when she’s angry. Even when she doesn’t know if it’ll last or if she’ll hear it back.
“She said it first and she told me all the time but I never said it back to her. I waited too long. Little prince, when you fall in love, you should tell the girl. Even if you don’t know if she’ll say it back. Or else you’ll end up like me, remembering all the times she said it and that moment she almost did where I wish I had said it instead of just kissing her.”
I almost ask him to promise me, but then I realize how ridiculous I am. This little life can’t promise me anything; I’m the one who should be making every promise to him.
“I’ll tell you every night just like she would have… like she will, I mean.” My throat gets tight and I take a moment to calm myself before promising him, “You’ll get all the good I have, little man. I’ll give you everything in the world and I’ll tell you every night too. I love you. Your mom loves you. And there’s so much love there from her, it’ll protect you always. We’ll make it, you and me, because she loves us so much we don’t have a choice but to do otherwise. That’s what love does. That how strong it is. So when you feel it, say it, let them know. Something as strong as that shouldn’t be kept secret. I promise you I’ll show you that. I’ll prove it to you.”
I’m too busy talking to my son to see Nurse Morison in the doorway. But the moment I see her, I know something’s changed. My heart doesn’t beat until I grasp it fully.
“Mr. King, she’s awake.”
Laura
I’ll never forget the look on Seth’s face. Even as I’m torn between the two, my small little prince wrapped up tight in a blue and white blanket, and the man I’ve loved my whole life.
I’ll never forget the relief and gratitude in his piercing blue eyes or the way his throat tightened and his strong jaw trembled just slightly as he whispered my name.
“Seth.” I wanted to say his name with strength but the single syllable is lost in a sob. My hands tremble as I reach up to him, the moment he closes the distance in only seconds.
His collared shirt, normally ironed and smooth, is a rumpled mess. The top buttons are undone, revealing his skin underneath. His pants look like he’s slept in them. The sight of him like this, a complete mess, my Prince Charming who’s been through hell and back, somehow living to tell the tale… that’s the sight before me. My hero. Forever my hero even in a life where the villains go unseen and there is no happily ever after in sight.
The gasp that comes from me is unexpected, but so is the sight of my baby boy’s face. His eyes are closed but he yawns and it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Seth is gentle, ever so gentle when he lays my baby boy in my arms. My body rocks, my eyes close but only for a moment, only so much so that I can feel the overwhelming reprieve and devotion that envelops me. I have never felt like this. Safe and at peace. Seth’s stubble brushes my jaw when he kisses my cheek. It’s rough and comes with a wave of warm air that smells like him. That masculine smell that waits for me in the early morning on his pillow. The scent that comes with memories and sentiments of affection. It’s either that smell or the tender touch of his lips on my skin that brings mine to his in a heated embrace.
His lips mold to mine, brushing against them and then deepening. I can barely breathe; I can barely do anything but try to convince myself that this is real.
I get to live. I get to have the love of my life. And we get to keep our child.
The small sound of our baby boy interrupts the kiss and I hold my son closer to me. He’s so tiny, engulfed in the blanket and nestled against my chest. His little hands gripping the cloth between the two of us so tight. All I want in this world is to protect him, to make sure he lives the most blessed of lives. I will do everything I can so that he doesn’t live like we did. His life will be so much more than a series of tragic mistakes and running from the past.
“He looks like you.” That’s the first thing Seth says to me. With a broad smile on his face as his head falls in the crook of my neck and his hand slips around my waist. I hold on to our son and he holds on to me. Leani
ng my head against his, his hot tears leave a wet trail in the crook of my neck.
“We’ll give you two a minute,” Nurse Hale offers us, polite and only speaking loud enough to be heard as the two of us lose ourselves in the moment.
We made it out alive. All of us. It’s a miracle and I’ll never take a second for granted. I’ll never run again because this is all I want. Seth King and our little prince.
“We’re okay?” I question Seth the moment the door to the hospital room shuts. Brushing the tear from under my eye and glancing down at our baby and then back to me, Seth nods, his expression adamant for the first time since he walked in here. “We’re better than okay,” he answers me, never breaking our gaze.
My inhale is shaky at best, not knowing how it’s possible, but grateful that I got my happily ever after.
“I love you,” I say, getting out the words just before Seth takes my head in his hands, giving me a searing kiss and then resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you too,” he whispers and kisses the tip of my nose.
He wipes under his own glossy eyes, staring at our baby boy while he reaches behind him to drag a chair closer to the hospital bed.
“When can we leave?” A gruff laugh leaves him at my question. “I just want to go home with you and him.”
“Well, we should probably name our son first,” he says as his large hand takes my free one and then with his other hand, he strokes the side of our baby’s face.
My son’s closed eyes scrunch, as if he doesn’t want to wake up and my baby wriggles in my arms.
“He’s so much bigger now,” Seth says with reverence and the admission tightens a vise around my heart. I remember what the nurse said. A month. I missed the first month of my son’s life.