CHAPTER TEN

 

Jules

 

I SIT STIFFLY IN THE hospital bed, the blanket pulled up to just below my chin, and warily watch the man seated in a chair close by. His eyes are just as cautious. My body is poised and ready to jump out of bed if I feel threatened. I’m still debating if I already do feel threatened. His eyes turn watchful, as if he’s trying to climb inside my mind to see what’s within. He wouldn’t find much, as there’s just a bunch of darkness, except for a few fuzzy clips that I’m not even sure are real.

I don’t know who the man is, except what he’s told me. He says we’re married, that we met a little over seven years ago, fell in love, and were married only weeks later. I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know him, but even so, he seems familiar.

My brain is a jumbled mess. I remember my parents and my little sister. I remember my childhood and my teen years. I was a lonely child. Not because my parents kept me sheltered, but because I was just so shy. I met my best and only friend when I was eight. I remember her dying at fifteen in a car accident, along with her parents. After Melanie died, I never made any more friends. By then, my sister, Teresa, was four years old, and it was her that I opted to play with, even though she was just a toddler. I remember graduating high school and being excited about going to Westerly to get my degree in interior design, something that I had dreamed about for years.

According to the doctor and my last memories, that was almost eight years ago, and seven of those years I was in a coma. I don’t remember the five or so months prior to the accident. I get little splotchy glimpses, but they’re too faint for me to understand the meaning of them. I don’t know if it’s because they aren’t really memories, or if they are, it’s been so long since they happened that they’re fading away. I’m too scared to wish them back, but I’m also curious about them. The doctor informed me I may never remember, or they could all rush back at any minute. I’m not sure which one I want to happen more.

I think back to when I woke a week ago. At first, I was so disoriented that all I could do was focus on the white ceiling. I had no idea who I was or where I was. My mind was a complete blank. I don’t know how long I stared at the ceiling, but something caught my eye. When I looked over and saw a man standing by my bed, unsurmountable fear slammed inside me. I didn’t understand why, but the strange man by my bed, staring at me in surprise, terrified me.

I screamed and screamed until my voice was hoarse and the doctor shot something in my IV that made me sleepy. I needed him away from me. I needed to feel safe again, and he was anything but safe. I was confused, but I just knew the man was going to hurt me.

The doctor said I slept for thirty-six hours after that, and when I woke up, the man was gone. A day later, he was back, except he looked different. Or rather, his hair was different. I still felt the fear, but it wasn’t the same as before. This fear was from the unknown. I didn’t know the man, but I felt like I should know him.

He looked scared too as he watched me with his strange blue eyes. They were a bright, clear blue, with a darker blue ring around the outside edges. He watched me like he was expecting something. Like he feared something.

When he opened his mouth to talk, I opened mine to scream, then slammed it shut when he quietly said the word “Jules” reverently. I knew the name. It was my name. That was when memories of the past started filtering through my mind. Not my past with the man, but before him.

He stood and stared at me as I processed the memories flooding in. When my eyes focused back on his, I noticed a nurse standing beside him, watching me with worried eyes.

The man cleared his throat. My body tensed, and he asked with a hoarse voice, “Do you know who I am?”

I wracked my brain, searching through all the memories that just crowded inside me, but no matter how much I scanned them, none held him.

I shook my head.

Something darkened the man’s eyes, and the look shot a shiver down my spine. Before I could show my fear, the nurse walked forward to check my vital signs. As she did so, the man introduced himself as Theo.

“I’m your husband.”

Those words had the monitor going haywire because they frightened me. There was no way this man, a man I had never seen before, was my husband. There was no way I would forget something like that.

“No!” I yelled.

Pain shot through my temple, and I screamed with the force of it. I wanted him to leave, so I screamed at him to do so. Thankfully he did, but I saw the confusion on his face before he turned away.

A day later, he came back, carrying a marriage certificate with both our names on it. For some reason, seeing those names on that paper, bonding us legally together, didn’t feel right. It hurt me to see it. I felt so lost and alone, despite the fact that I was apparently married, and my husband was right there beside me, looking at me with an emotion I couldn’t place.

That was three days ago, and each day he’s come back. He tells me stuff we’ve done, about the short time we were together. He’s also talked about the attack that resulted in my coma due to a brain injury.

I’m still afraid to be near him, even though he’s been very kind and understanding of my hesitancy toward him, but I’m slowly working on getting used to him. I’m curious about the other man, who Theo told me is his twin. He didn’t tell me his name, but there was heat in his eyes when I asked about him. Heat, anger, and fear. The combination had me shrinking away and regretting I asked.

Theo shifts in his chair, but his electric-blue eyes don’t leave mine.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks, keeping his tone soft.

I lick my dry lips and really think about my words before answering. After being in a coma for so long, I sometimes struggle a little trying to form words and they come out slow and stilted. “I’m… okay. My headaches ar-aren’t as bad, and my… energy is… coming back more and more.”

He nods. “That’s good. Real good. What does your physical therapist say?”

“Sh-she said she’s… surprised I’m doing so well.”

I pull in a breath, already winded from saying only a few words. I’m told I’m doing better than the doctors expected after being in a coma for so long. They expected my motor functions, and my ability to talk and think normally would be drastically declined, and they are to an extent, but most people in cases such as mine are worse off. Some don’t fully recover, and some only make very few improvements. Dr. Kline, the attending physician, was surprised I woke up at all, and he said with the speed of my progress so far, there’s a good chance I’ll fully recover.

“How’s walking going?” Theo inquires curiously.

I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. He watches the movement, then lifts his eyes back to me.

When I try to talk again, it comes out cracked, which causes me to cough. Theo jumps up and grabs the cup of water, and the sudden movement has me tensing. Sensing it, he freezes in place for a moment, before slowing his steps to the bed, and holds the cup out to me. I don’t want him so close to me, but I force away the urge to scoot over to the other side of the bed. This man is my husband, and although I don’t remember him, I need to try to get over my fear of him.

I swallow away the lump of fear, and tentatively reach out for the cup, then mutter, “Th-thanks.”

His smile seems genuine and crinkles the corners of his eyes. After he takes the cup back to the small tray by the bed, he resumes his seat.

His phone dings a minute later, and while he looks at the screen, I take a minute to look him over. He’s a good-looking man. I know I would have been attracted to him before my accident. His longish brown hair comes to his shoulders, and I’ve noticed over the last few days, he always pushes it behind his ears. His skin is tanned, but it looks natural, not from being outside in the sun, but from a family trait. His face is cleanly shaved with just a barely there hint of a shadow, like he shaved this morning and the bristle is already starting to grow through. I haven’t stood beside him, but seeing him from my bed, I can tell he’s tall. My perception could be off, but I’d put him at least six foot three. Through the T-shirt, it’s plain to see he’s muscular, not so much in a bulky way, more of a swimmer’s build.

I close my eyes when an image of the other man comes to mind. It’s fuzzy from being disoriented, but I remember him clear enough to know he’s bigger than Theo, like maybe he works out or is more active.

I open my eyes to find Theo watching me again. It always makes me feel weird when he does that. I avert my gaze to the bathroom door and it reminds me of his earlier question.

“I was able to walk to the… bathroom with the… walker.”

He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, so I look back at him. He has his elbow propped up on the armrest, his chin resting against his hand, and his thumb is rubbing his bottom lip. The look in his eyes unsettles me, and I pull my knees tighter to my chest.

“Did you… call them again?” My question comes out pained and stiff.

Theo frowns and his hand falls from his chin, then he takes both hands and runs them through his hair. He seems agitated all of a sudden as he blows out an audible breath.

“Yes,” he grumbles. “They didn’t answer. I left a message… again.”

My stomach cramps, and I can’t help the pain I know reflects on my face. Tears spring to my eyes, and I try to push them back, but they come anyway, landing on the blanket covering my knees. I turn my head away and stare blankly at the wall, my chin resting on my knees.

“Jules,” he calls, but I don’t look at him. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not as sorry as I feel. The last I remember of my family, we were all happy. They’ve always been uppity, thinking that people who weren’t in the same class as them, were below them, but I always ignored their beliefs. There was nothing I would have been able to say to change their minds, so I just learned to live with it, although I never felt the same way. What Theo said about them demanding I not see him doesn’t surprise me, but disowning me and not caring enough to visit me while I was in a coma… I just can’t picture them doing something so heinous. So hateful. And now that I’m awake, they still refuse to acknowledge me.

It hurts so much that they abandoned me that it feels like there’s a physical wound in my chest. Like if I were to look down, there would a huge mess of blood covering my nightgown over my heart. I miss my parents, but I miss Teresa the most. She was my best friend for years after Melanie died.

Again, I feel lost and alone.

Gathering my inner strength and courage, I wipe my eyes and bring my gaze back to Theo.

“Could I….” I look down at the phone in his lap. “Could I use that… to call them myself?”

He glances down at the phone for a moment, looking undecided. My heart plummets at him refusing my request. I could ask one of the nurses to use the phone in the room, but I don’t have my parents’ number.

When he brings his head back up, his jaw is tense, but there’s an underlying sadness in his eyes.

“I just don’t want you to be hurt if they don’t answer or refuse to talk to you.”

His words send a shard of pain to my already battered heart. I steel myself against the ache. This is something I need to do.

“I know.” I sniff. “And… thank you. But I-I want to try it once. Maybe….” I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow thickly. “Maybe if they hear my v-voice, they’ll want to… talk.”

Again, indecision wars in his eyes, but after a moment, he nods. He fiddles with the slim device, then gets up from the chair and approaches the bed slowly. I appreciate his reluctance to scare me.

Holding out the phone, he points to the screen. “Press that button and it’ll connect you.”

I grab it with a shaky hand and look down at the screen.

Rozero is displayed across the screen with a number beneath it. I repeat the number in my head several times, hoping that I’ll memorize it for later.

I send up a silent prayer, begging God to let them answer, then press the green phone icon and bring it to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times. Over and over it rings, and each time it does, my hopes die a little more, and it feels like a part of me dies with them.

An electronic voice comes across the line telling me the person isn’t available. It repeats the phone number, then a human voice says Rozero. I close my eyes because the voice is male, and I know it’s my father’s. A tear leaks down my cheek when the beep sounds, indicating it’s time to leave a message. Several seconds pass before I open my mouth to speak.

“Mom, Dad?” I croak because I’m still crying. I clear my throat and try again. “It’s me. Jules.” I sniff and wipe my nose with my hand. “I miss you both.” A choked sob leaves my lips. “P-please please call me. My number is…” I look to Theo and he rattles off a number. After I repeat it, I whisper brokenly, “I love you.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and lie back in bed, blindly reaching out to hand it to Theo. He takes it, but doesn’t move away. I can see him out of the corner of my eye as more silent tears slide down my face. I look up at him and see sadness still in his eyes. My back stiffens, and I lie rigid as his hand comes toward my face.

“Jules,” he whispers.

His finger slides along my cheek and he wipes away my tears. I don’t want him to touch me, but I’m too heartbroken and tired to move away. I close my eyes and will him to stop with my mind, but he stays put, slowly brushing away my tears until I cry myself to sleep.