══════════════════
When Nick and I crash through the doors of the relative's room, both Monica's and Summer's eyes fall on us. I can see the judgement oozing off them like tree sap, but I don't care. Nick doesn't seem to care either as his hand slides around my waist when we stand in front of them both.
"What's happened?" I question.
Monica's eyes widen and fall to look at Nick's hand.
"He fell into another seizure. It's been fifty minutes since, and no one's told us anything yet," Summer pipes up.
"Can you not go in as his nurse?" Monica demands Nick. I notice the judgemental tone of her voice and want to call her out. She's the one who was encouraging both Joel and me to cheat. She was the one who hid Joel's affair, and she has zero right to judge.
"I can, but I won't achieve anything. I'm not on shift, so I can't do anything," Nick says smoothly.
"So, your reason for coming was...?" Monica demands.
"Can we just not do this right now?" I cut in. "Joel and I are separated. Just... right now, it's not important."
Everyone falls into silence, but I can just about hear the drumming of everyone's hearts, the anticipation thick in the air like a humid summer's day.
I perch on the all-familiar chair I've sat in for the past near-three months since this all kicked off and sigh.
Nick hovers beside me, his hand gripping my shoulder as if it's going to fall off.
"The last time this happened, they put him in a coma," Monica mutters.
The door opens and Doctor Daniels appears. I've often wondered how doctors manage to keep that pristine poker face they always do. I wonder if it's learnt or whether all these medical professionals just come pre-installed with the skill, and it comes to the surface when they qualify. Either way, I can't decipher his expression, and when he approaches us, the only thing I get is slight confusion when his eyes set on Nick.
"You're not on shift?" Doctor Daniels asks him.
"No," Nick answers simply.
Something silent passes between the two of them, but my heart pounds too hard to care. Something's happened, I can tell.
"Mrs Watkins?" The doctor turns to me.
"Yes?" I answer. I contemplate saying 'the soon-to-be ex', but it seems a bit stupid right now.
"Are they all family?" he asks, gesturing to both Summer and Monica.
"Yes, Joel's family," I answer. Part of me could be petty after everything Monica and Summer have done, but I know Joel wouldn't want that. I also wouldn't want that for Joel.
"Okay, so as you're aware, Joel had another seizure. It's one of the symptoms of Juvenile Huntington's Disease. We tried all the various drugs we could think of. This one seemed to work, but as we expected, it didn't eradicate the seizures."
The doctor takes a breath as Monica and Summer get closer. He carries on, "Unfortunately, he had one earlier this afternoon. Joel, again, went into what we call Status Epilepticus. The seizure lasted longer than we would expect. I'm sure you remember." His voice is even and steady. He's not giving me anything in terms of a hint.
Does this mean he's in another coma? Did he recover well? Are they trying another drug?
I nod in response, and he glances at Nick before looking back at me.
"What happened, doctor?" Summer whispers.
"We managed to finally get him settled after the seizure. Unfortunately... well, Joel didn't react the way we expected, and he went into cardiac arrest. I'm so sorry to tell you this, but Joel did not make it."
══════════════════
They say when you go into proper medical shock, your blood pressure shoots down, you get clammy and pale skin, and you could die from it. Weirdly, I don't feel any of these when the doctor tells us Joel has died.
I remember reading online once about the reality of drowning. I liken that to how it feels as the words resound in my mind, the way my ears ring as they do: 'Joel did not make it.'
How did a prognosis of ten years turn into just shy of three months?
How is he dead?
How did it happen?
The words ring in my ears and make my vision dim with the memory of his face, his eyes, and his smile. Everything turns white as the words continue worming their way into my mind like a parasite, spinning my brain around and making little pinpricks form in my white vision.
'Joel did not make it.'
"Aspen?" Nick whispers.
My eyes flicker towards him, but I don't take him in. I can hear Monica and Summer sobbing around the table. The doctor has already walked out, and I don't remember his words after telling us the news.
'And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.'
I can hear my mum saying it right now if I told her. If she cared, that is, because all she would care about is being shunned.
My mind laughs. Now she doesn't have to worry about the judgement of her daughter being a divorcee because she's now a widow.
"Aspen?" Nick asks again. He sits beside me, his hand clasping mine. "Did you... did you hear him?"
"Joel's dead. Yes, I heard him," I answer.
"Did you hear anything after that?"
"No."
How long since he told us about Joel? A few seconds at best... but it must be more than that, in reality.
Reality. Something Joel no longer knows.
Cruel. That's how reality is.
"His mum and Summer want to see his... his body. They're preparing him now. If you wanted to... you can see him too," Nick says.
I stare at him, his expression full of sympathy. How many times has he done this dance before in his career? He might have done a hundred for all I know, but I bet he doesn't deal with death this close to home.
"I...I don't think I want to," I answer. "I want to remember him... as the Joel that was... not dead."
"Understandable," Nick says.
I stare at the small indent where my wedding ring was taken off just... what, an hour ago? Not even that. I don't know. Time has stretched out in front of me.
"Joel changed his next of kin to his mother after the separation," Nick whispers. "So, you don't have to worry about anything, okay?"
"Worry about what? I don't know what I would have to worry about. He's not in pain anymore," I ponder aloud. "I should speak to Monica."
Both Monica and Summer are hugging each other on the sofa, their tears never stopping. I stand by them, and Monica's eyes meet mine.
"Aspen... I'm so sorry," she cries.
"No... I'm the one that's sorry," I whimper. I don't quite know what to say; I feel like I should be drowning in tears like they are. Maybe overwhelming myself in sorrow. But the strange thing is that I can't. Tears just aren't appearing, but I don't feel like I'm in shock.
I know he's dead, I know he's gone. He won't be in that room with the big window anymore, he won't be in the ICU either, and he won't be returning home.
The disease that was meant to shorten his life and take him in ten years ended up taking him in just two months, three weeks and five days.
I know I'm sad. But I'm also... accepting.
"You can come and see him," Monica says.
"No, I don't think I want to. Do they need me to do anything as his wife?" I question gently.
"No, he changed his next of kin," Monica sniffles. "I can handle everything – in fact, I'd quite like to if you know what I mean."
No one answers. We all know what she means.
"Why don't you go home? You're probably in shock. They did give me this..." She puts his wallet in my hand. Black leather, full of random cards, and a photo of us. He also kept a small photo of Gabriel we took when he was born too, even though he shouldn't have.
I nod absentmindedly and clasp the warm leather close. "Uh... if you need anything, just give me a ring."
She smiles despite her devastation. "I will." She then looks across at Nick. "Take care of her. I know it was a... delicate situation, but he was still her husband."
"I will, don't worry. If you need anything, I'm on shift tomorrow. I know it might be awkward, but just let me know."
"Thank you."
"Come on, Aspen," Nick says.
I glance at Summer. She doesn't look at me, so I keep quiet. It won't be the last I see of her after this, so I keep my words to myself.
══════════════════
"Can I get you anything?" Nick asks when I slump onto the sofa.
"I don't think so," I answer. "How do you... how do you do this every day? Watch people lose people. Watch death and devastation every damn day?"
He crouches in front of me. "I mean, I don't every day, but when I do, it... it breaks my heart. But I'm powerless to help relatives besides giving them a cup of tea or a hug, or a comforting word or two. I can't... I'm not a counsellor or a priest. I usually find I need to take a few minutes afterwards to breathe. But... here I am, not powerless, Aspen. It breaks my heart that Joel has gone because he was my patient, and he should have had, by rights, years left. But life doesn't work like that, and we both know it."
I look at him. How is he so strong? I don't get it.
Because he's a literal angel; he always has been.
"My mum would say, 'for they cannot die anymore, because they are equal to angels and are sons of God, being sons of the resurrection.' Funny, really, because now she gets her wish," I mention. "She won't be shunned by Vicar Mary – I'm a widow."
Nick sighs and runs a hand through his curls. Usually, it would set my heart alight, but everything in my life is set on fire in a bad way. This is something not even Nick can fix with his angel ways.
"Aspen... you're allowed to cry, you know," he says. "Joel might have been... difficult but he was still your husband."
"Is this what's going to happen to Gabriel? What about that unborn child? Is this what their life is going to be like if they have the gene?" I question.
My mind is like a marathon runner, desperate for that quick time, that low number, the win. My only prize is going to be to get to the finish line where I have all the answers, and it'll be like Joel's legacy will only be good. I have to tear down all those barriers of other runners, hot weather, sweat and leg pains so I can get to that end goal.
"Don't do this to yourself. You know all these answers."
"This is personal, now, though. You might have been his nurse, Nick, but he was also the biological father of your brother," I point out. "Does this not... worry you?"
"Gabriel might not have the gene, Aspen. If he does, he might get the symptoms after he turns twenty-one. Just because someone gets the disease doesn't mean they end up like Joel. Some people defy all odds and live for years and years after symptoms appear. You know this. Don't torture yourself."
"I'm being real. I can't... I can't feel like Monica and Summer have. I physically tried to grieve in that room, but nothing happened. I... accept that he's gone before I've even come home."
"That's a perfectly fine reaction. I've seen plenty of people like that," Nick says.
I put the kettle on, gliding across the floor like a ghost. I wonder if ghosts are real. If they are, I can imagine him coming back to taunt me – teasing with the fact that I'll no longer get a divorce, that this is what I get for bowing down to my parents for so long. Somehow, I'm sure Joel would twist his death to be my fault.
"Do you need to tell your parents about this?" I ask. "You know because Joel has died."
"No, Gabriel is fully theirs, it doesn't affect them, especially as he's only two."
I nod in reaction and pour two cups of tea. His hands rub up and down my arms as if he's trying to warm me up on a cold day.
"Do you want to be alone?" Nick asks gently. "I can imagine this is sort of confusing for you."
I look at him, imagining what's going on in his head right now because I've been thinking about it. We had an emotional affair, we kissed, and we became official after I applied for a divorce from the man who died my husband.
It's... delicate.
But only in my mind because Joel's no longer here. Joel and I finished. We finished the moment he embarked on an affair with Summer, but we officially ended the day he told me he was breaking up with me before he went into a coma. So really, Nick and I have done nothing wrong and are continuing to do nothing wrong.
"No, I want... I need you here." I put the teaspoon down and bury my head in his hoodie, inhaling his scent. It's my home and comfort.
"Okay," he breathes. "Aspen... I just want you to feel how you need to feel. This situation was always fucked up, but he was still your husband for two years, he was still... he was still something to you."
"I know that," I admit. "I get all of it. But right now, I just... I feel like I've accepted it. I feel sad but I'm not... I don't know how to describe it."
"Hey," he whispers. I look up at him, and his index finger falls on my chin so we're staring into each other's eyes. "I just want you to be open and honest, okay? You'll get through this... because you're strong as anything, Aspen. We will get through this, together. I love you, okay?"
"Thank you."
"For what?" he asks.
"For being here for me, for not running at the first signs of... well, weirdness."
"Of course, I'm here for you."
"I love you," I say, a small smile managing to break out.
"I love you too."
I can just hear my mother's voice in my head: 'a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.'
The thing is, I know that beyond the sadness is the reality for me: I saw how much pain Joel was in, I saw the mood swings, I saw the coma, and I read about all of it.
Joel didn't deserve to die, but in a way, I'm glad he did because it means he doesn't have to live on and live to see the horror his disease would bring him. When Monica told me what Frank went through, when I researched the late stages of Huntington's disease, I know what was going to come for Joel. He wouldn't have wanted it, just like Frank didn't. So, although we had problems, although we separated, I don't hold a grudge about that.
I know now how Monica felt when Frank killed himself: acceptance, because I know Joel is at peace.
══════════════════