Chapter Eighteen
Dean
A neurology bed was above my pay grade, but it’s what Ivy was eventually moved into. I wasn’t technically her doctor any longer, but I’m not really sure if I ever was. I still had access to her files, so on my breaks during work I was checking up on her. Taking a look at her vitals. Reviewing her blood tests. Sitting with her and waiting.
Every day, Emilia brought flowers to her room. And on the days Emilia wasn’t working, I went into the flower shop and got them myself. We became pretty close. She’d deliver flowers just before her lunch break, then she’d sit and talk with Ivy. Tell her about Tristan and how the flower shop was going. How wedding season was kicking their ass and how she couldn't wait for Ivy to wake up. Apparently, Ivy volunteered her time to come in during the week when she could to help cultivate the flowers in the back.
I learned so many things about Ivy listening to those conversations.
I learned that she was the propelling motion behind Grace taking another shot with Hayden. I learned she gave a lot of advice to Emilia during midnight phone conversations after her and Tristan had fought. I learned she wanted a family. As many children as she could possibly have so if something ever happened to her, they wouldn’t be alone.
I learned so much about this woman, and it reminded me of how little I knew about her.
I worked a double-shift before I finally got off work. One of our doctors called in sick, and I was the first to jump in and offer my time. It meant being around Ivy more. Being able to check up on her more. Because I couldn't call in and get status updates like regular family, because I wasn’t. I felt that it was my job. My responsibility. Ivy was lying in that bed because of me, and she had dear friends of hers that wanted to know how she was doing. So I used all the strings I could pull to always get updated information, then I would call each and every one of them to update them on Ivy’s condition.
But lately, not much was changing.
“I brought a book,” I said as I sat down beside her. “I thought you might like it. It’s not as heart-pounding as the one we just finished, and I figured it would be a nice break from all the mystery and mayhem.”
I looked into Ivy’s face, taking in her pale skin. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors were the only sounds that filled the room. Sounds I wished would die away so I could imagine her voice in my head. I leaned back into the chair and crossed my leg over my knee. I tried to seek solace within the flowers that littered Ivy’s room. Tulips and carnations and daisies and daffodils. Roses and lilies and orchids in every color imaginable. The room felt vibrant and alive, and I wished Ivy would open her eyes, so she could see it. So she could smell it.
So she could take it all in.
I looked down at the book in my lap and the first paragraph broke my heart. I really thought Ivy was the one. The woman I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. And now, there was a chance she would never open her eyes again. Never experience her career again. Never take in the sight or smell of flowers again. This book was going to be a hard one to read. If the first paragraph was any indication of how this book would go, then I was in for an emotional ride.
“I never should’ve looked her way,” I began. “I never should’ve smiled at her or asked her for her name. Looking back on it, I never should’ve even gone into that coffee shop. I should’ve stayed home, made my own cup, and wallowed in my own self-pity. But something dragged me out of the house that day. A tug in the pit of my gut guided me to that coffee shop. And the second I set my eyes upon her, I was done. My life was no longer my own and my spirit was no longer alone. I’d found my second half. I’d found the woman for me. And as she ordered her double-nonfat mocha cappuccino and grabbed her chocolate chip cookie, I took her in. Because I wanted to remember that moment fully. I wanted to remember the moment I met my wife.”
I stopped myself in my tracks and gathered my thoughts. No. I couldn't read this book to her. I needed another one. Any other book besides this one. I closed the front cover and shut my eyes, trying as hard as I could to keep my emotions at bay. Forever Thine. That was the name of the book. It should’ve given the subject of the book away, but in that moment in the store down the road I hadn’t thought about the subject. Or the summary on the back. Or the trajectory of the book.
All I thought about was that tug I felt towards its cover. The plain navy blue hardback cover with the letters of the title impressed in gold lettering. The cover didn’t stand out. The author’s name was unknown. It was just a book on a shelf that didn’t attract anyone or anything. There were no pictures. No dedications. Just a title and a story hidden within the walls of the book.
Maybe that was why I was drawn to it.
Maybe that was why my hand plucked it off the shelf.
Because it seemed to be a metaphor for how I’d lived my life.
Isolated. Unintriguing. Alone.
“I wish I could be stronger,” I said with a whisper.
Tears flooded my vision as I looked back up into Ivy’s pale, sunken-in face.
“I wish I could be stronger for you,” I said. “I wish I could take your place, Ivy. Put myself in that bed instead of you. You’re there because of me. You’re there because of my want to see you. A joke between the two of us that went way too far.”
I dabbed at the corners of my eyes before they dripped onto the book in my lap.
“I’m the one who should be in that bed, not you. You bring such a light to this world, and I feel it lacking with your eyes not open. I miss the music of your voice and the timbre of your words. And all I’m asking you to do is wake up, Ivy. Wake up. I can do the rest. This hospital can do the rest. Anything you need to recuperate, I’ll get you. Anything you need to make yourself feel comfortable again, I’ll provide. Just wake up. Wake up, Ivy. That’s all you have to do.”
A desperate plea from a desperate man. That was what I was. Desperate. I looked up towards the door and watched one of the nurses come in, and the look she gave me was nothing short of pathetic. I knew that look. I’d given it to so many families of so many patients. It was the ‘I’m so sorry’ look mixed with the ‘I know what’s coming’ look. The nurse didn’t even think Ivy would wake up. And that thought scared me. The nurses in this hospital were always so optimistic. Always so caring and loving and bubbly.
So if the lifeline of this hospital didn’t think she would wake up, what hope did I have?
What hope did Ivy have?
My hands trembled around the book as I looked back down at it. What did I have to lose by reading this to her? I had nothing else. No other choices. I was out of all the options and left with only the research I’d done in my spare time when I couldn't sleep.
Sleep.
What was that again?
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.
I scooted the chair over to the side of the bed and took Ivy’s hand. Her skin was cold. Her touch was lifeless. I massaged every joint in her hand, bending and moving everything as it cracked underneath the ministrations. I worked up her fingers. Up her wrist. Up her entire arm. I stood to my feet and moved around to the other side of the bed and did the same thing with the other side of her body. I moved to the foot of her bed, wiggling each toe and massaging the bottoms of her feet. I worked my way up her calf. Her thigh. Moving every joint and making sure her muscles didn’t stiffen or atrophy. A nurse came in to help me. To move the joints that were closer to areas she might not want me to be. I steadied her torso while the nurse moved and flexed her hip joints.
Then, we turned her over onto her side so I could massage her back.
No muscle was left unattended. No muscle was untouched by either myself or the nurse on duty. We slowly lowered her back to the bed before I knelt onto the side of it, then my fingertips worked behind her neck. I slowly rolled her head, making sure not to tangle myself up in her tubes. I massaged her scalp and ran my fingers through her soft tendrils, and flashes of our time together came racing back to my mind.
Her curves.
My hands upon her hips.
Our lips connected.
Her glorious smile while we shopped and decorated my apartment.
I removed my hands from her. All of the memories were too much for me to bear. I smoothed her hair away from her face before I sat back down, my hand threading back into hers. I placed my forehead against the edge of the bed as the nurse left the room, and the heaviest sigh I could’ve conjured fell from my lips. My life felt empty again. There was a hole in my heart I couldn’t describe. Ivy had touched a part of me that had been dead and gone for so many years, and the aching I felt in the pit of my gut make me nauseous.
Then, I opened my eyes and saw the book on the floor. And that one question raced through my mind once again.
What have I got to lose?