WAKING UP
Lola leaned against the wall, her eyes closed as she listened to Wesley's breathing. This was commonplace in the hospital. He slept for hours and hours, only waking long enough to eat and be examined. She was starting to feel like nothing would ever be the same.
Everyone else had already left. Aaron had set sail nearly two weeks ago, and Harold had taken his men and gone. Jacob and Mary were already finding a new home for themselves. Only Enola and Holde remained, although it wouldn't be for long.
Lola was starting to feel utterly hopeless. The only thing that she knew for certain was that she would not leave Wesley's side, no matter what.
Even if he was never the same.
She hadn't been on stage in weeks, the longest period of her adult life. All she wanted to do was hold his hand, stare into his eyes, and tell herself that everything was going to be fine.
“Lola?”
She opened her eyes, leaning forward. She instantly put on a smile. She never thought this was how her acting training would come in handy. She was exhausted, but he didn't need to know that she was anything but strength.
“Hello,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Did they take the balcony down?” he asked, sitting up. She was about to stop him when she noticed that his eyes were clear, and his cheeks were once again white, not flushed. “It should have taken out half the forces, at least.”
“They did,” she said, watching him cautiously. “Do you...remember much?”
“A splitting headache from backstage,” he answered. “Bits and pieces after that.”
“I did a lot of crying,” she said. “And trying to convince you to stay with me.”
“Did you?” he asked softly. “I thought I felt something pull me back.”
Lola looked away because she knew her eyes would fill with tears if she looked right at him. “You would have left me?” she asked softly.
He sighed. “Not willingly,” he said. “No matter what was happening between us.”
“I realized,” she replied. “That I didn't want you to go....I never wanted to be apart from you. I'd rather scream and argue with you for a thousand years than have you leave me. And you lay there and...”
“Lola…” He shakily reached out for her hand. “It's alright. I'm alright.”
“You could have not been!” she cried. “And I never would have forgiven you for leaving me like that.”
“Oh, my love.” All the ice melted between them as he reached out. She fell into his arms, sobbing outrageously.
They were always going to fight; she knew that. However, the idea of actually being apart from him was the most terrifying thing that she had ever encountered, and she had performed in front of thousands.
Lola had seen the grief that Patrick Holde had, and she never wanted to be a part of it. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm sorry we wasted so much time.”
“I think we had to,” he answered. “To understand what we truly meant to each other.”
She didn't want to put him through any more distress than he was already suffering. His body would still take a long time to heal, and she knew her road ahead would be difficult.
She rolled to her side, curling up beside him. This was the way it used to be; when they were first married. They wouldn't be able to go more than a few moments without touching each other; doting on each other. His touch used to send shivers down her spine and make her long for more.
They were used to being apart for long periods of time, but it was always with the acceptance, the understanding, that they would be together soon; longing and waiting for each other.
“Do you think we can fix this?” she asked him. He ran shaky hands through her hair.
“I don't know,” he answered truthfully. “Do you want to try?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, of course I want to try,” she replied.
There was silence, and she looked up in a panic.
“Do you want to try?”
He sighed, untangling a knot in her hair. “The odds of it working, Lola...are not in our favor.”
She froze, terrified that he was going to give up. Everyone told them that they shouldn't be married, even from the start. Everyone knew they were too different.
However, Lola also knew that she had always been different. Being a lady of the stage, her whole heart and her whole passion in it meant that she couldn't fit in, even if she wanted to. The odds were never in her favor; and she had always found a way to make it through.
“We aren't a statistic, Wesley,” she said softly. “We aren't a number; an equation that you can work out based on what others have done in the past. We are always going to be different. Do you want to be the same as everyone else?”
He said nothing, but he did run his finger over her lips, her face. She locked eyes with him; trying to understand what was going on in his fractured mind.
“No,” he said, leaning back against the pillows. “I have never been the same as everyone else. And I doubt that we will ever be.”
“Ah,” she laid her head on his chest, careful not to hurt him. “I missed you.”
“The question is,” he asked. “Where do we go from here?”
“First you get well,” she said. “And then....we could take up residence in Bamber Manor?”
She wasn't sure if he remembered what she was talking about. His eyes flashed. “He still wants to do that?”
“More than ever,” she replied. “If...you do?”
“Will you give up the stage?” he asked.
“Do you want me to?”
“I don't,” he promised her. “I just...don't want to be apart from you so often.”
“Perhaps...” She traced a pattern on the sheets. “I could get a job in town. Part of the permanent company.”
“Wouldn't that be a downgrade for you?”
“We'd be together,” she said. “And that company tours here and again. But...We could make it work.”
“Yes,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “We could make it work.”
Lola smiled, closing her eyes. They could make anything work; together.