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I stare at the photos I've placed and still feel they're placed all wrong. The sun is beating through the window of the hospital, and it makes a golden halo around the photo frames on the bedside table. It feels wrong to have three photos of Joel and me there right now. They felt right yesterday, but now they just feel wrong. I take it down, leaving the other two there, taunting. He deserves to have somewhat happy ones, though, just in case his words to me before he went under were a lie.
They told me visiting was between nine and eight, but most people come after ten because of the doctor's rounds. That made little sense to me when they said it, but I soon found out that they merely prefer to limit the patients, so the ward isn't crowded and noisy.
The nurses who let me out last night told me to bring music to play for him while I'm here. I overheard a few relatives playing quietly classical music for their loved ones, but the only thing I could think that would make sense for Joel was to play Fall Out Boy quietly. He hates classical music, and well, why would I play him something he hates? I'm just waiting for someone to come along and tell me off or something.
I don't get a reaction from him, though. Maybe I was expecting too much: I thought maybe a finger tap or a toe tap along. Maybe I over thought it. The only thing I get is the background music of beep, beep, pump, beep, beep, pump alongside the quiet music by his head.
The soft blue curtains irritate me. I pulled them around so the other patients and relatives wouldn't get annoyed with me, and vice versa. Plus, I know Joel wouldn't want people staring at him. The white colour of the walls and the soft blue of the curtains just clash. Why on earth would you want it so bland in here? I suppose it helps the various stickers on the walls and the equipment stand out.
"It's been two days now, Joel. They said this morning they'd try to wake you up on Friday. Today is Wednesday, so maybe you could wake up now, huh? Save everyone a job." I check my watch – two-forty in the afternoon. I've been here all morning, sat religiously like a disciple. Whatever we feel about each other, we can't say we don't support each other when we need it.
"The sun is bright today, but my word is it cold. You're not missing much. Your mum said she'd be in for four, so you'll have a new face for this afternoon. You're probably bored with me right now," I joke to myself. I know he won't be listening to me. It's highly unlikely, but it's better than sitting in this perpetual silence like a dormant volcano.
The doctor explained the other day: Joel might be able to hear us, but he won't be able to give us a sign if he is. Even after he wakes up, he might not remember hearing anything. It's an unknown until he wakes up.
This is why I need to find the right words to tell him about Gabriel now, even if he doesn't hear me. There's a chance he might.
"Aspen."
I don't have to turn around to know it's Nicholas. The way the sun shines just a little brighter tells me that, plus the way my heart thumps just a little harder. I turn my head and see him writing in Joel's notes. He checks the monitors behind Joel's head and scribbles some more. He gets out a sheet of paper, scribbles something else and puts the notes back.
"How is he?" I ask.
"Everything is as it should be, but I'm not the doctor," he says.
"You don't work down here normally," I note.
"You're right, but I'm down here for two reasons. One, my speciality is Joel's disease, so the consultant sent me down here to check on him. Two, I came to check on you. Have you eaten, or had anything to drink? Have you even left his bedside since visiting started?"
"I'm fine," I answer.
"I'm on lunch in two minutes, so come with me," he says with a sigh. Clearly, he knows I'm lying.
"But—"
"He's not going anywhere, Aspen. He'd want you to look after yourself. He's being looked after perfectly," Nicholas says.
I meet those amber eyes and suddenly, the volcano I thought was dormant becomes active — the world seems a little lighter. I nod, grab my phone from the side, and follow him.
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"Part of all of this is making sure that you look after yourself, Aspen. Joel has the easy job here," Nicholas mentions as we walk out of the main hospital doors into the chilly February air. I cling to my takeaway cup and notice the number of people walking past with their jackets and scarves around them, their breath coming out in a cloud, swirling, and dancing in the air. I'm out in just my t-shirt; the ICU is like a heatwave.
"Here," Nicholas breaks the peace. He puts his cup and the bag of sandwiches down on the wall in front of us and takes his hoodie off.
"No, no, it's cold. I'll warm up, it's fine," I say when he offers it to me.
"Don't be silly. Here," he insists. When he smiles, I put my arms in the sleeves, relishing the warmth. He perches on the wall beside me and hands me my lunch.
"Thank you," I say.
"Don't mention it," he responds.
"You know something?" I ask. He glances at me. "It's been just over a month since we met, and I don't know much about you. I can't believe it's February second, either. Where did the time go?"
He chuckles and finishes his mouthful before responding. "Time speeds by when you're not watching it. There isn't a lot to know that you don't already know about me. What were you thinking?"
"I don't know, I guess, everything?" I bite the sandwich, just so I have a reason to stop talking.
"Okay, well, my name is Nicholas Knight, though I'm usually Nick to everyone but my mum and you, apparently. I'm twenty-one, am a nurse... and that's about it." He gives me a playful grin when he stops talking, and I feel all my inhibitions fly away like a bubble in the wind. I can practically hear it when it pops and sends them scattering into the atmosphere.
"But I know all of that. Give me something I don't know!" I smile and playfully nudge him with my elbow.
"Okay... I have a bit of an obsession with the film Tangled," he says quietly. "It's such a brilliant film."
I snort. "You mean the Disney film Tangled?" He nods. "Oh, my... I love that film!"
"Not shocking?" he asks, and I shake my head. "Damn, I was trying for the shock factor. I love that film, all right?"
"I will never judge anyone for loving that film, that bit where they see the lights... it's the best," I offer and start on the second half of my sandwich.
"I applied to be on the X-Factor once. Thought I could sing, and I tried to learn guitar. Both failed miserably. My mum told me to stick to nursing," he says. I swear a bit of chicken gets stuck in the back of my throat as the laughter erupts. "It's not funny – I tried really hard!"
"It's hilarious, Nick—"
"You called me Nick," he points out. "It's because you now know embarrassing facts about me. Your turn, Miss Perfect."
I finish my food and smile. "Well, my name is Aspen. I'm twenty, still a student, and that's about it."
"Touché," he teases. "But now you have to produce two embarrassing facts."
I snort. "I don't have any. They brought me up in a perfect Christian family who doesn't do embarrassing."
"You have nothing embarrassing from your student life? I fail to believe you haven't done anything out of the ordinary."
I arch an eyebrow. "My first week of university, I got hideously drunk. I don't remember what happened, but I woke up with dried puke all over the bed, and in my hair. I'd forgotten my parents were coming to visit, and well, drinking is a sin. So, in my frantic rush to shower, get dressed and hide the evidence, I lied and told them I had food poisoning and didn't make it to the loo. Joel didn't know what to do, so he just went and hid in his room so he didn't have to deal with it."
Nicholas snorts. "I mean, for you, that's embarrassing."
"For me? I'm offended!" I joke, and he laughs. "Okay, one more. The first time I met Joel's mum. It was just after my parents started saying we needed to get married... I had awful, awful morning sickness. I kind of... puked up on Monica's shoes."
He snorts and laughs. "One way to meet the parents, huh?"
I cringe and put my empty sandwich box in the carrier bag. "Safe to say that didn't help her impression of me. But we get on all right now, I suppose. That's it, that's all the embarrassing stories I have."
"Aspen... you're twenty years old. You need to live." He sighs wistfully.
"You're twenty-one. Don't tell me to live like you're double my age, Mr Knight," I tease.
"I say it as someone who's done a lot more living than you have. As an outsider, as a... friend, you seem stuck in the life of someone double your age. Tragic situation aside, you need to work out what life you want to lead," he says.
I look down at the orange brick of the wall we're both sitting on; his pinkie finger inches closer to mine. My heart lurches when he goes for it and holds my hand in his.
My eyes meet his, and I realise now that they're not just like shining gems, they're liquid gold. They say money doesn't equate to happiness, but his liquid gold eyes are happiness at this moment.
"Did you know aspen trees never usually grow in one—"
"Nicholas, are you really going with the aspen metaphors again?"
"I'm trying to be nice here," he responds, and I squeeze his hand.
I glance down and notice how comfortable it feels – his fingers laced with mine like shoelaces double-tied for security, our hands entangled with the other. This is more than friends holding hands. Friends don't hold hands like this – unless they're four or five years old and are innocent in the world.
"Aspen—I want you to know that I'm here for you, but I want you to make sure you have the time to work out whatever it is you need to work out," he announces.
"I—I appreciate that," I say.
"But what I will be doing is checking in once a day to make sure you're looking after yourself—you hadn't left his bedside in nearly five hours, Aspen, that's not good for you," he warns.
I chuckle. "Noted."
"I better get back to work." He sighs.
"Nicholas?" I ask. He turns to me as I scramble off the wall and stand in front of him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being here for me, acting like you care—"
"I'm not acting, Aspen, I do care. I care a lot," he answers. "I want you to blossom, to bloom. You don't deserve any of this."
I look at the floor and blurt out a bible quote. "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."
"Is that from the Bible?" he asks.
I nod and don't respond, wondering if he gets it.
"Then you'll understand how I feel about you. If you know as much about religion as I think you do, then you'll know that people think God has a plan. If it's true, if there's someone or something up there with destinies for all of us, then I believe he's put you in this position for a reason. You made a mistake, and for that, you've both paid enough. Now is the time to take back the reins, Aspen. He — if he is a He – has put me in your life for a reason. Whether that's for me to make you realise your worth, or whether it's more than that, I don't know. I'd like to think it's more than that, but who knows."
I look into those two pools of gold and want to lean in and kiss those lips. I want to tangle my hand in those curls and give in to every shred of temptation he offers. But I know once I do, there's no going back.
"I need to work out—I need to make sense of myself."
"Take all the time you need; I'll be here for you."
I wonder if he means to imply something more than friends, because that's how I take it.
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I grab my cup of tea and head towards the hot bath I've run for myself. I see a text from Monica: 'He's still the same. Rest up, Aspen, you'll be exhausted. I'll come by tomorrow morning before visiting time to take you; I'll bring food for you. Monica.'
I quickly reply and let myself sink under the bubbles and water when my phone vibrates again. I reach up and glance at the message from Nick: 'You rudely interrupted my aspen fact, so I thought I'd send it. Aspen trees prefer to grow in groups and not alone. They are called a colony.'
I roll my eyes and put my phone back, leaving it unread for now, and grab my tea. While I haven't been doing anything all day, the mental toll of sitting in a plastic chair or on a faux leather chair for hours is taking its toll.
Listening to the same sounds, only conversing with medical professionals, talking to a husband who doesn't respond... it's all exhausting. The same plain white walls, the same view out of the massive windows, the same people, the same dead expression on Joel's face. It's been two days of the coma, and I'm already mentally drained of it.
I love routine – getting up, going to the same lectures, making the same bus trip with the same faces on given days of the week, doing the same thing sort of every day, every week – I love it because I have a place in my little world. But this? This isn't a routine, this is torture. The last thing Joel and I said to each other was how we didn't love each other, and how he wanted a divorce. Not only does it hurt because I don't know whether he'll recover, but it also leaves me in a state of limbo where I don't know if he wants me there. I don't know whether he really means it or whether it's the disease talking.
My phone vibrates.
I roll my eyes, wondering if Nicholas is offended that I haven't responded to his aspen metaphor. I put my mug back and grab my phone.
'Aspen, darling. I'm on my way – I've even brought my overnight bag! I'm forty-five minutes away, love. Get the kettle on. Mum.'
I have only sworn twice in my life: once when I was thirteen and wanted to look cool, so I told Mum she could fuck off. She slapped me for using the words of Satan. The second time I swore was when I gave birth. Technically, I swore a lot, but only when I was pushing.
Her bombardment could not come at a worse time, with Joel in an induced coma, the revelation of his illness, Nicholas and Gabriel being related, Monica being around and well, just the tornado that is my mother. One word pops up in my mind.
"Fuck."
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