My alarm woke me again today, for the love of God I’m not sure how to change the settings from that incessant buzzing sound. I’m still not used to not being woken by her, I don’t feel her breath on my cheek or her hand gently rubbing me awake. Again I woke up to a dark blue sky, whistling winds and I could tell that the world or at least London was standing still.
On a regular day, the blue hues of the sky do not bother me, instead, it is an indicator that I have eighteen hours left of the day to spend with her. Today is the fifteenth of March, it has been two days since they woke her from the induced coma. It has been one week and three days since I last watched her walk through our front door. On any other March the fifteenth I’m sure I probably woke up and went to work. I had spent so much time by her bedside that I could not get the hospital smell out of my nose. At home I still smell the cleaning ladies' floor spray, it’s tangy with hints of citrus. The whiff of the cafeteria's salty mashed potatoes or the expensive cologne of the male nurse who enters at twelve minutes past two every day.
My wife was placed into an induced coma on the fifth of March at seven minutes past twelve. Over five months she drank herself into needing a new liver. A level of damage that usually takes others an entire decade. It is not her fault and I do not love her any less. On September first, we were in a car crash, and our daughter was pronounced dead at the hospital. At thirty-two weeks pregnant and twenty-six years old my wife was told to give birth to our stillborn.
My parents have offered to support me every day over the past ten days, I know they imagine the house to be turned upside down. Hard food sticking to dirty dishes or the lingering smell of unwashed clothes on the floor of the laundry room. Instead, I made a dedicated effort to maintain her presence, the house is just as she left it. Everything is the same, the only thing that has changed is her situation.
I made sure not to touch the nursery that we had built for her. It was the day after our gender reveal when my wonderfully impatient wife decided to make a start on that room. We argued about whether or not we should paint the ceiling; naturally, I lost so it stayed cream or as Anna would say ‘Ecru’. The remaining walls were painted green, not a vomit green more like sage. Our friend Delilah is an artist, she painted babies floating on clouds. I guess it’s more fitting than ever now.
On the days when Anna would drink more than usual, I knew I’d find her in there. She’d climb into the crib and that’s where she would spend the night. I never once disturbed her, I brought her a blanket when she fell asleep and scrubbed the spilt drink stains out of the carpet in the mornings. I wasn’t sure as to whether I should lock the door or paint over the art. Either way, I’d be closing the door on someone who never got the chance to open her own eyes.
Mother came over on Wednesday with food, I have never seen her show anything less than a brave face. If it’s possible to inherit a poker face then she gifted me with mine. She knocked on the door her usual way, she wore a plaid tan three-piece, and her hair had a fluffy blowout similar to Hillary Clinton's. She wore her bee-shaped broach, which was pinned to her double-breasted blazer. She only wears that one when she wants some good luck. If I’m being honest I didn’t hear a word after “Good afternoon son” throughout the three hours she was here. I just knew that she was filling the time during the break for visiting hours. I nodded every thirty-five seconds and smiled every time she took a small breather between sentences. Eventually, she left and I was back to space silence.
The snooze alarm is going off again, it’s quarter past 6 which means I have to get out of bed. I showered in the middle of the night, so I’m throwing on the t-shirt Anna got me from Comic-Con with joggers and going to the hospital. I had flowers delivered to her room roughly ten minutes ago, she loves tulips, and she’ll feel better being surrounded by tulips.
The outside of the hospital is pure white, not the type of white that is tainted by dirty rain or December winds. Instead, it always appears freshly painted. I guess it’s meant to be a reflection of the same care they put into their patients. I was hesitant to enter the elevator, I didn’t know what to say to her; I hadn’t even uttered a single word all morning.
“Are you getting in?”
The little voice came from the corner of the elevator, a young girl no bigger than five feet tall. She’s probably fifteen years old and gripping tightly onto a get-well-soon card and balloons that were almost as big as her. I’ve seen her every day, she visits her dad before and after school.
“I’ve seen your girlfriend, she’s real pretty” the little voice said as we passed the first floor.
“She is my wife and thank you” The corners of my mouth turned upwards. I think that was my first real smile outside of my wife’s hospital room.
“She’s coming home today” I added, the two of us got out on the same floor.
“Tell your dad I said hi” was the last thing I said to her before going in the opposite direction.
I decided to wait outside of her room as they assessed the healing of her surgical stitches. I could tell that my face was flushed as people were staring. It was either that or my forceful pacing up and down the hall. Dr Keppner finally invited me inside. Keppner is a tall blonde, not a natural blonde but blonde with hazel eyes. She has tan lines on her ring finger so she’s either married or divorced, I’ve never actually asked because I didn’t want to seem invasive. She has been a huge help and is the reason I was able to stay overnight in the beginning. “Okay everything looks good to me she’s cleared to go home”. Before I could smile “Her meds?” shot out of my mouth. Keppner responded with a calming smile “Three times a day until her next check-up and plenty of non-alcoholic fluids”. She gave Anna a little wink, I think they’ve developed a good relationship since she woke up.
Before I could say anything Anna reached for my hand, I think I was taken aback because she’d barely let me touch her since she woke. At first, I thought that it was her shame, that perhaps she was embarrassed and believed that she had embarrassed me too. I know that as a man I’m meant to be a rock but it would break me knowing that I couldn’t feel her understanding touch when I’m crumbling. I have felt pieces of myself chip away over the last 10 days and just needed her to be the one to console me. She’s done it, in this very moment, I had forgotten about where we were. Reassuring her I mouthed the words “I love you” whilst Keppner removed the cannula from her forearm.
We stepped out of the hospital to warmth, I’m guessing it had increased by a few degrees since I arrived. Warm, and sticky, the electric handheld fans all sing in harmony. I was so focused on my surroundings that I almost missed her. She stood there arms slightly raised, eyes closed as if she was trying to absorb the sun. It was at that moment that I realised I had not thought about transport. She hadn’t stood within five meters of our car since her crash so you can imagine my surprise when she walked towards it. No shaking hands or lip trembles, she just went for it. I'm not sure what I was expecting for the journey home but she most definitely countered my expectations. She took control of the radio playing her favourite station, she caught up on the latest album release since she had been placed in her coma. For a solid thirty-seven minutes, I felt like I had the original girl back.
By the time we reached home the sun had set, it was an orgasmic pink and orange blend. I hadn’t seen one of these since June and somehow it managed to lower my nerves. As we approached the door, I secretly hoped that she might acknowledge the effort I’d put into maintaining our home.
“It smells real good”
Smiling I responded with “home sweet home”. She moved through the house like she was never missing, I loved it despite still being cautious. She headed for the kitchen filling a measuring jug with water for her plants. Not hesitating to tell me how I’ve almost let her babies wither away, of course, I laughed just because her sense of humour hadn’t disappeared.
Everything and I mean everything was fine until we reached the first floor. I didn’t remember to close the nursery door! Idiot. I watched her in what seemed like slow motion, she paused by the door and peeped in for what could only be described as one and a half seconds. Her laughter slowed down, her lips quivered and her shoulders dropped. She dragged her body into our bedroom next door.
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