Chapter Nineteen
Dean
“The roses were in bloom the first time I told her I loved her. We walked through the city garden hand in hand, listening to the giggling of children off in the distance. My thumb stroked her skin. My mind started racing in a million different directions. As the sound of the children became closer, I wondered what it would be like to have children with her. Would they have her eyes? Or her smile? Would they have her little piggy toes or my long, finger-like ones? Would they stand as tall or as strong as her? Or would they hunch slightly like I did? All those questions and more raced through my mind as the smell of roses penetrated my nose. A smell I soon started to associate with her.”
I stayed up all night reading to Ivy. Once I opened the book and began reading, I couldn't put it down. Such a simple love story with incredible imagery. Sights and sounds and smells the main character associated with the woman he loved. I looked over to Ivy and took in her fragile form. Her hair splayed out over the pillow. Her long legs curved slightly to the left. Grace said that’s how Ivy always slept. That she’d be more comfortable with her legs cocked to the left.
So I made sure that her legs were properly re-positioned after the nurses came in and massaged her muscles.
“I can remember our first fight. Kitchenware, if you can believe it. I never thought a knock-down, drag-out fight would ever have been fought between two people over the types of dishes to put in a kitchen. I thought moving her in was going to be a dream. That our lives would mesh as well as we did. But there are little things people never take into consideration. Eating schedules and sleeping schedules and what they do with their time when they aren’t spending it with you. Moving in with someone strips away the romance of it all and puts you in the thick of it. Love is a fallacy when houses are merged. It’s the respect and dedication two people have for one another that really gets them through it. And even though she enjoyed the apple-painted China set and I preferred the cheaper stuff from the dollar store, I realized I didn’t simply love her. I respected her.”
I slid my hand back into Ivy’s and continued to read. Word after word fell from my lips as the author’s story coursed through my mind. My thumb stroked her cold, soft skin. My fingers tightened around her whenever the action increased. My heart hammered against my chest whenever the author described the more intimate moments with the woman he loved.
I drew in a deep breath and slid my eyes up and down Ivy’s body.
There wasn’t a word in this book I didn’t understand. Not since Ivy had entered my life. A couple of months ago, this book would’ve been a foreign concept to me. But not any longer. Ivy was my translator. The woman that opened my eyes to the truths this book held. I paused to get myself some water before I brought her hand to my lips to kiss. I’d been reading for seven straight hours and my voice was becoming tired.
But I wanted to know how the book ended.
I didn’t want to leave Ivy before I finished it for her.
“Living my life with someone didn’t mean buying a house or getting married or having children. It meant being there for that person even when things got rough. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I couldn't stand to be around her. Loving my wife meant reaching for her even when I didn’t want to touch her. Telling her I loved her even when I didn’t like her. Supporting her, even when she didn’t support me. Because love isn’t contingent. Love isn’t concrete. It is fluid and without reason. It comes with no strings and should expect none in return. Strings are for business transactions. Strings are for favors. And love is neither. Love isn’t a business and love isn’t a transaction. It is a state of mind. A state of being. An unselfish, unconditional resolve. Love isn’t gracious, and love isn’t kind. But love is forgiving, and love is recognizable. So long as you allow it to be.”
“How’s the book coming along?”
I panned my gaze over to the door and found Grace leaning against it.
“Got about fifty more pages,” I said.
“How’s she doing?”
My eyes panned back over to Ivy and I squeezed her hand. What I wouldn’t give to feel her squeeze it back.
“Hasn’t been much of a change,” I said. “Her heart rate did tick up a notch there for a little while, but nothing that the nurses were concerned about. Though that is a good thing. Her body changing vitals like that usually means she’s responding to something.”
“Then maybe your reading’s working,” she said with a smile.
“I did plow through a sexy scene earlier.”
“Sorry I missed it.”
Grace walked into the room and went to go sit down on the bed with Ivy. I released her hand and marked my place in the book, then got up to go. Emilia was going to be arriving with more flowers within the next hour, and I wanted them both to have their time with Ivy. The guys were coming by later to see her, and that gave me comfort.
Because I had to go back to work tonight.
I took Ivy’s chart from the door before I closed it to give Grace some privacy. I flipped through it, hoping to see new remarks, but there were hardly any. Her blood tests hadn’t changed and her vitamin levels were holding steady. Her brain wave scans kept coming back the same and the bleed in her brain had long since stopped. Her concussion had fully abated and by all accounts, she was healthy.
Except for the fact that she wouldn’t wake up.
Besides the slight change in her heart rate a few hours ago, there were no new notations. Her pupils were still unresponsive to light and it didn’t seem as if she was responding to any sort of stimulus. Not during her brainwave scans and not during the ‘needle test’. Which wasn’t as terrible as it sounded. A doctor would come in and poke a patient on the bottom of the foot with a needle to see if there was any movement. Any jerking sensation or morphing of the skin in any way.
But there was nothing.
A whole bunch of fucking nothing.
I stuffed her chart back into the doorway and resolved myself to some food. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. I saw Emilia coming down the hallway with a massive bouquet of flowers in her hand and I nodded at her. She wrapped her arm around me and patted my back, but neither of us said a word. I honestly wasn’t sure if I could. Every time I looked at Ivy’s chart, it chiseled away at a little part of me. Every time I opened it up and saw that absolutely nothing had changed in her condition, it made me wonder if the nurses and the doctors were right.
It made me wonder if she would ever wake up.
I went down to the cafeteria, but all I could stand to stomach was some more coffee. I drank three cups before I grabbed an apple, hoping my body wouldn’t reject the small piece of food. I took a couple of bites before it completely lost its flavor, so I tossed it into the trash can and made my way back to Ivy’s room.
I still had four hours before my shift began, and I wanted to spend them with her.
Grace and Emilia left the room with tears in their eyes. They scooted quickly by me, but I didn’t take offense to it. This was hard on everyone, and if I felt the way I did I couldn't possibly imagine how they felt. They’d known Ivy for years and were suddenly robbed of her essence. I’d known her for maybe a couple of months. I didn’t hold a candle to what those two were in her life.
“Hey there,” I said as I sat back down in my chair. “Just went to go get some coffee.”
I slid my hand back into hers and my thumb began to stroke her skin.
“I have to go back to work tonight, but I hear the guys are coming to see you later. Hayden and Tristan. And I know I’m going into work early, but I’m also getting off earlier as well. I pulled a double-shift a couple of days ago, so I should be back up here no later than two in the morning.”
I scooted my chair as close to the side of her bed as I could get.
“Grace and Emilia miss you, Ivy. I miss you. And I know you’re in there. Despite your chart and despite what I believe the nurses think and despite you being like this for almost three-.”
I swallowed thickly as I placed my forehead onto the bed. Three weeks. Ivy had been in this condition for almost three weeks. And I knew the statistics. I knew how this looked. The doctor in me was clawing at the back of my mind. Runnings percentages and calculating risks and looking at all of the numbers as they sprawled out for me in my mind. How unrealistic it was that Ivy would wake up at this point and how there was a possibility that she would spend the rest of her days wasting away in a hospital bed until her body finally decided to give up on her.
“Ivy, please come back,” I said with a whisper.
It was the smallest plea from the darkest depths of my soul. A desperate little boy within me that wanted the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed to come back into the world. I remembered the first time I ever learned about death. I was playing with a caterpillar on the side of the road and I jabbed it too hard with a stick. It slowly stopped moving and I started crying. My mother came out and scooped me up into her arms and explained to me that I had to be really careful with the things I held most dear in my life. Because sometimes we could break them and they might not be replaceable.
I hadn’t been careful with Ivy.
I’d broken her.
And she wasn’t replaceable.
“Just wake up,” I said breathlessly.
I squeezed her hand, trying to feel the warmth still pulsing through her veins. The heart monitor told me her blood was still pumping, but it felt like every time I touched her, she got a half-degree colder. I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed her skin, trying to bleed my warmth back into her. Trying to ignite the fire behind her eyes again with the sparks that still flew from my lips. I kissed each knuckle. I stroked her skin. I kissed up her arm, all the way to her elbow, hoping that somehow it would jerk her eyes open.
But I didn’t get her stare.
However, I did get something.
Just as quickly as it had happened, it stopped. A small pulse at my fingertips that gripped my hand with life. My eyes flew open and I looked down at my hand, and I watched it happen again.
Ivy’s hand squeezed mine.
“Ivy, can you hear me?” I asked.
The heart monitor sped up a bit before settling back into its place.
“Ivy, can you open your eyes? Can you hear me?”
I felt her squeeze my hand again as tears sprang to my eyes.
“I need a nurse! A nurse, please!”
There was hope.
There was hope that Ivy was going to make it through this.
And hope was all I needed.