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"Joel's stable. He won't wake up for a while, as the drugs have knocked him out. So why don't you go and have a drink, calm down?" the doctor says. He pats my arm, smiles, and walks off with Joel's notes in hand.
My heart stops pounding, but my breath is caught in my throat.
He's lying on the bed with an oxygen mask on. The beeping from the monitor suggests he's normal. But we all know in this room that Joel isn't normal: his DNA is broken, and his fundamental makeup is faulty. It was broken before he was even born, and there is nothing anyone, a doctor, scientist, or therapist, can do about it. No number of drugs, therapy or love can fix this.
I wonder how my mother would explain this one: 'it's God's will, Aspen' or 'God has a plan for everyone, and this is Joel's path'. It's all just a bunch of tosh right now: what God in their right mind would do this to someone? Joel is so innocent, he's so... amazing.
Sure, he got me pregnant before we even thought about marriage, sure he's a sinner, but aren't we all? What higher being would play around with someone's basic makeup to put them through this much agony and misery? Why would they put that person's family through this? This is more than cruel: this is torture. Watching the person you love having seizures and enduring pain is awful.
Not even my mother could convince me that this is purely down to God's will. I've always wavered in my belief, but now I know that Joel's condition has nothing to do with God.
I put my tea on the table and sit down, not sure what to do with myself. My hands tighten around it, allowing the burning to seep in just so I can feel something. In the middle of the table is a small plastic cup of water with a small bunch of daisies in it. I smile, knowing who put them there.
The only thing I know to do is silently pray:
'Dear God, please let Joel be okay. We've gone through enough; we've paid for our sins already. Just let him be okay. Please. Amen.'
Nicholas appears through the door after ten minutes. I know it wouldn't take them long to call for him; he is Joel's specialist nurse. I'm sure he rushed up here as quickly as he could.
'Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.'
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"I've just been in to see him. They've stabilised him for now. He'll be out for a while, but he'll need sleep," Nicholas says. He closes the door behind him and sinks into the chair opposite, his eyes darting between me and the daisies.
"The doctor has just told me that," I reply.
Did he just come up to see me? I wouldn't really complain, but now is not the time for this.
My eyes dart down to my wedding ring and my mind focuses on Joel, who is lying there, suffering, probably in pain.
"Is this going to happen every week? Is he going to have a seizure every week, every day? Will it ever ease up?" I question with a squeak. "Is this it for the rest of his ten to fifteen years until he just dies?"
They say a mouse is quiet, but the silence that follows my words makes them echo around the room. When you're silent, even the tiniest of noises are amplified like a concert hall, and that noise is enough for me to answer my question.
Nicholas sighs.
I meet his gaze, and we stare at each other.
"I couldn't tell you, Aspen. What I can tell you is that until we get these under control, he will have to stay in the hospital. Clearly, it was more than a one-off."
I smirk; I shouldn't, but in all honesty, it's a little funny after everything. "Of course it is. You know, maybe Mum was right. Clearly, whatever is up there, whether it's God or some divine being, they have a vendetta. What is it? Haven't Joel and I paid enough?"
"This is just the Huntington's, Aspen. This isn't anything anyone has done." He's trying to reassure me, but it doesn't work.
I sniff back the tears. "What kind of life is this? For Joel? For me? He didn't ask for this. This isn't fair! Why does this have to happen to the good people in the world? Joel's done nothing to offend anyone. His worst action was not telling me about this, really."
Before I carry on, I look down to hide my tears as they drip down. "What kind of life is this for him? To lie in a hospital bed waiting for the next time his brain fogs up with confusion, or the next time he gets angry and doesn't know why, or waiting until he has his next seizure?" My hands are wringing together, desperate for something concrete to hang on to. I grip the table until my fingers turn ghostly white.
Nicholas doesn't answer. His nursing expertise doesn't cover these kinds of questions, I suppose. I don't need them tobecause I'm not even wanting an answer.
"We were just—we just agreed to spend this time starting again, you know? Doing things how we should've done them before—before it happened. Before. We were going to do the right thing, and now—now he's gone back five steps," I add.
I drink my coffee to hide the onslaught of regret falling from my eyes. All I can think of is our son in sixteen years, going through these seizures, being told there was nothing they could do but essentially wait for him to die. If only Joel had told me before I gave birth...
No. What's done is done, and Gabriel is a happy two-year-old with amazing parents. But I need to email the social worker because, despite this hard news, they need to know.
"Aspen... you can still do all the things you want to do," Nicholas says. "Whatever you think you're being punished for... you're not."
"I—" I stop before I even start.
"The world doesn't work that way, the world doesn't care whether you've had sex before marriage, or whether you've... I don't know, drinking too much alcohol to stand. What you're going through right now is just... dumb luck. Or unluck, if you want a better word."
I roll my eyes to will the tears out of the way and finish my drink. "My mum would say the opposite."
"Let her. She isn't you, and she isn't Joel. I assume your mum would disagree with a lot of things you do, but you didn't stop any of those things, did you?" he offers. I shake my head. "Exactly, so clearly you don't care about them. You've told me before that you don't believe in her religion or way of life, and as I said before, don't punish yourself so much because of her rules. You're twenty, you're your own person now."
"You're right, I know you are. But I still – I still find myself praying, and I still find myself thinking from time to time that I am being punished. I just can't help it," I say.
"Perfectly natural, but you don't need to think that way," he responds.
I sigh. "Joel got me pregnant, that's why my parents essentially forced us up the aisle. I tried to have a termination—I even attended the appointment, but I just couldn't do it. But I walked out of that clinic knowing I couldn't become a mum. I was too young, too stupid, and too selfish. I was barely out of my parents' grasp; I wasn't ready to give up my life for that yet. So, we... gave him up for adoption."
Why am I telling him so much about me? I barely know him, but something about him makes me feel like I'm able to. After so many years of Joel willing me to find a friend, I now have one, and it's liberating to want to tell someone.
I continue my stupid story when he doesn't answer. "Because of that, my parents decided that our 'punishment' was that we had to get married. Despite us giving him up, they couldn't handle the reputation around the congregation of us having premarital sex, even if there was no 'evidence' after nine months. Ever since we've been paying for that. Judgements from my parents, little digs here and there about how anything bad was because we sinned so severely two years ago. Even if I did believe, I think God would be more lenient with Joel and me compared to her."
Nicholas doesn't flinch. He doesn't look like he's judging me for Gabriel. Instead, his hand reaches across the table, and he brushes his thumb across the back of my hand in sympathy. He smiles sadly.
"That must've been one of the hardest things to go through," he whispers. His words bring tears to my eyes and make my breath hitch. No one – spare Joel – has ever been so sympathetic before. I've always been drowning in guilt, sadness, and loss. Joel meanwhile just buries his head in the sand while I'm out at sea and together we've avoided discussing Gabriel unless it's needed.
Nicholas' words bring me back to shore, safe in the knowledge that he might not understand but at least he sympathises.
"No one has ever said that to me before," I admit.
"Did you give him up because you wanted to or because you felt you had no choice?" Nicholas asks. There's a pause. "You don't have to answer that, I just want to... ask really."
"A bit of both I think. I knew as soon as I walked out of that clinic what continuing the pregnancy meant. I knew they would make me pay in some way. But I knew that I wasn't ready. I wanted some freedom, a chance to 'sin' so to speak."
"I understand." He nods. "You did what was best for everyone at the time, Aspen. There's no shame in that. I'm sure when... your son is old enough, he will understand."
"I bet you see this kind of thing with your parents, right, when they foster kids?" I ask. "Stupid people like me who just...throw their kids away."
"Aspen, I don't for one minute think anyone makes this decision, or any decision, lightly. What I see with my parents is a mixed bag of things. Some people just don't naturally find their way as parents and need guidance from people on what to do, which is perfectly normal—more normal than you think. Some people are just too young and like you, can't for whatever reason have a termination. Some people are just... forced into it for a multitude of reasons. Your son will understand."
"His name is Gabriel. Or at least, it was. I don't know if they changed it." Tears overflow my eyes like a broken dam.
His hand moves away from mine slowly, his eyes darken a little.
"Nicholas?" I question before wiping my eyes.
He shakes his head, almost as if that news sent him into a trance. His eyes start sparkling again, and his smile returns.
"I'm sure he will understand, Aspen. I haven't experienced older children with my parents who meet their parents, but the teenager who they did foster was level-headed. She understood that while she was allowed to feel angry and confused, there were also reasons why it happened to her," Nicholas says. "I'm sure Gabriel will too when the time comes."
"I hope so. I need to email the social worker. Does that work? You and the doctor said any children have a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting Huntington's, right?" I sniffle.
He nods. "Indeed. Email them, and I'm sure they'll be able to help."
"Thank you."
"For what?" Nicholas asks.
"For being here, for... for the daisies as well, they made me smile."
He smiles. "I picked them for you, thought you'd see them in here. I looked it up, and daisies symbolise innocence and purity."
My eyes meet his. It's obvious when I look at him that we both know his deeper meaning. We've both felt the connection for a while now; I can see it in his expression.
"Nicholas—"
"They also mean true love."
The door swings open.
"Doctor Daniels?" I question, thankful for the interruption. If he hadn't, I might not have liked what came out of my mouth. Or maybe I would have, but it would have certainly not been a good thing overall.
'You have heard that it was said, you shall not commit adultery. But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.'
"Mrs Watkins, Joel is awake."
I nod and stand from the chair, my movement making Nicholas look at me with guilt.
"Thank you, Nicholas, for being here for me," I smile.
"That's what friends are for," he returns. "Go, he'll be asking for you."
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