*
The next day, when the doctor, whose name I don’t care to remember, clears me to go home, I immediately go to see Drake in ICU.
Drake being placed in the ICU speaks volumes about how serious his condition is, but I have to be strong. I need to see him. I have to or I will go crazy.
When we get to the private lounge, Hugh and Patricia look worse for wear. It takes me about ten minutes to convince all of them to go home and get some rest. I want to be alone when I see him. I want to spend time with him.
I still myself before I enter his room. I’m not prepared to see the state that he is in.
Drake has tubes around his mouth, his head is wrapped with a bandage and his complexion is pale and ashen. I sag against the closed door frame as I watch the up and down bleeping of the monitor and his breathing ventilator as that too, eerily moves up and down. My tears instantly pool in my eyes as I slowly walk toward his bed.
“Drake,” I whisper chokingly as I reach for his lifeless hand. I stroke it lightly, hating the cold feel of it. “It’s Lily. If you can hear me, I beg you, don’t leave me like this.” I wipe the tears that fall down my face. I want to say more, but I start to bawl hard.
I think I hate myself more for being so selfish with him the last couple of weeks. All that wasted time, for what? Because I was hurt before? Now that there’s a big possibility of him dying, I don’t think I can forgive myself for wasting the precious time that I could’ve spent in his arms because I was being selfish.
I clutch his hand, hard. My heart lurches when I hear an alarming sound.
The sound of death.
It’s the flat line sound of the heart monitor. It takes me a good second to realize what’s going on.
With hot tears in my eyes, I stare at his hand, and then back to the monitor. Then, I scream for help. I know the nurses were alerted the second his monitor went flat, but I’m not prepared for the commotion that rattles into the room. Six nurses and a male doctor come in with a rush. The doctor is barking frantic orders as the Defibrillator is being prepped for use. They open his gown at his chest and place a good amount of gel before the doctor uses the paddles to attempt to resuscitate Drake.
I’m against the cold hospital wall as I watched it all in horror. I think half of me dies when the doctor yells, “Clear.”
I close my eyes as my tears fall down my face. I pray, drowning the rushed scuttle of their voices and movements, not wanting to hear any of it as they try to bring his lifeless body back to life.
“Please, please! Hear me. Give Drake his life back. Don’t take him from me. I love him. Please . . . Hear me . . .”
I tense when I feel a strong hand on my arm. “Mrs. Tatum?” I don’t even think to correct him that I’m not Mrs. Tatum because I wish I was now.
My misty eyes flutter open and connect to the worried face of the doctor. How I wish I was now. Fuck! My stomach drops.
“No! NO! NO!” I scream and fall on the floor when my legs give out.
The doctor and a couple nurses help me into the chair. “He’s alive. We managed to bring him back. The nurses will be back to check again with his progress and get more scans from him.” I merely nod in my dazed state.
When they’ve all left, I stare at Drake’s body. I’m scared to reach out and touch him, just in case he dies again. I don’t think I could endure it if he dies when I touch him a second time. So, I stay in my seat, on edge. After an hour of nurses going in and out of the room, they wheel him out to get CT scans. I didn’t realize I fell asleep until a stranger’s voice wakes me.
“Miss Lily?”
I blink a few times before I focus on the warm smile of the nurse before me. When she sees my questioning look, she smiles wider. “He’s awake. He’s been asking for you.”
I suddenly stand up and look over. When the nurse leaves, I slowly walk over to the bed.
“Drake?” I shakily whisper his name.
Drake slowly turns his head, groaning. “Lil,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
He’s really awake! My Drake is awake!
In that instant, I go and cry on his chest. Bawling and howling my sorrows. “God, I’m so sorry for being so awful. I’m sorry.” I slowly lift my upper body, scolding myself for being stupid. His chest is probably hurting after what it has gone through, my heavy head doesn’t need to add to the problem.
“Shhh, don’t cry, Babe.” Drake slowly lifts his eyelids, his eyes a little glazed over.
“I’m sorry.” I sniff and give him a smile.
His weak hand reaches out to me and cups my face as he slowly wipes my tears away. I close my eyes, loving the brush of his hand on me. “I love you, Lil. It was the only thing I could think about before the car crashed. I was thinking that I didn’t get the chance to tell you how much I love you.” His voice is paper-thin and hoarse.
I hold his hand against my face and kiss it. “I love you, Drake. I have never stopped loving you. When I spoke those words eight years ago, I meant them. It hasn’t changed.”
He gives me a weak smile before he closes his eyes. “Stay with me, please? I want you close.” Drake lightly coughs, his breathing ragged.
I wouldn’t dare move even if the President asked it of me. “Always. I will be here, next to you.” I pull a chair up and place it next to his bed. I hold his hand the whole time while I watch him breathe in and out.
Once in a while, Drake squeezes my hand, but keeps his eyes shut. I bet the drugs they gave him are powerful. Whatever helps him rest and heal.
Emotionally exhausted and pregnant, it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep with his hand against my cheek.