I feel like I’m spiraling, but I can’t stop the thoughts from floating in, making me feel as though I can’t keep my head above their rising waters.
Just before I’m about to drown in them, I hear the elevator open, and the sound of shuffling alerts me that Vince has arrived. I make room for the doctors, stand up and cross to the corner, watching them hook him up to the walls and do some last-minute checks before they let him be. I try to see his face, but they continue to flock around him, and I take deep breaths to calm myself.
“Ms. Lee?” A doctor has been trying to get my attention, standing about two feet in front of me. I’m not sure for how long, but now that I’m aware, I look into her eyes as they study me.
“Yes?”
“You’re on his list of people he has allowed us to disclose medical information to.” I try not to make a face, but I am taken off guard by the news. For someone trying to send me away, this is an odd thing to remember to update.
“Oh.” Is all I say, and she takes this as her cue to continue.
“Due to a past injury, we were able to retrieve bullet fragments rather easily. The metal plate in the back of his head actually lessened the impact of the bullet, so there was minimal blood on the brain. Getting hit in the head this hard is still rather traumatizing to the body, so we aren’t sure when he’ll wake.”
I furrow my brows at her words, looking at his face across the room as the rest of the doctors clear out.
“So… he…”
“Mr. San Giovanni is in a coma. We aren’t sure when he’ll wake.” Her eyes are sad for me, and I’m watching her lips continue to move, but it doesn’t seem like she’s actually saying real words. He’s okay, but he’s not okay? He’s alive, but he might never wake? Is there any good news?
“Okay.” I breathe, and she helps me to the chair beside him without me even asking. Before I realize it, I’ve got water in my hands, and she’s fanning me.
“Just let me know when you’re feeling less winded.” She says between fanning me with her clipboard and checking my pulse.
“I’m fine.” I chagrin, looking down at my paper cup beginning to feel crumbly. She stops fanning, and I gulp the last of the water, handing the cup to her even though she didn’t really ask for it.
“You can hit this button if you or Mr. San Giovanni need anything.” She points to the red button on the inside of his bed. I think I nod or smile or do something that tells her I understand because she leaves me alone with him a second later.
I study the wrap around his head, the paleness of his skin, and the stillness of his body apart from the rise and fall of his chest. Determined, I reach for his hand laying on top of the blankets and hold it tightly. Everything stops spinning the moment I do, and I feel completely at home. A tear rolls down my cheek at the feeling of peace.
I don’t know how I decided it or when my brain had the time to come up with this plan, but suddenly, I no longer have any desire to be anywhere else but next to him. There’s no fight, rhyme, or reason except that I love him, and I cannot live without him. Regardless of anything I feel, there is a bond between us, a cosmic aligning, a divine pairing— and I know without a doubt— My life is his.