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The first thing I noticed about Joel was how confident he can be. Some people would call him arrogant, but when you know Joel, it's just a front he puts on. He's always been confident in himself: he knows he's good looking, he knows he can charm, and most of all, he knows how to treat people. That's why, since he's been diagnosed, the mood swings and change in attitude have been the one thing I find hard to deal with.
Joel is usually the strong and outspoken one out of us; he'll be the one to do the talking while I'll stay quiet in the background and agree or disagree with whatever is going on. But this time, it doesn't work like that. The stronger, outspoken half of our partnership is weakened, and out of action. I have to make the decisions, keep the cog turning, and make sure everything is going fine while he gets stronger. I don't like it; it doesn't suit me, but it's what I have to do.
'The Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father's God, and I will exalt him.' I can hear my mum saying it in my head, and though I know she sort of has a point, I don't know if God can help me this time. He hasn't before, why would he now?
"You know what would be great?" Joel pipes up from the hospital bed. I can tell he's in a bit of pain in his legs, otherwise, he'd be in the chair and staring out the window at the busy Southampton streets below.
"What?" I ask.
When our eyes meet, I watch his mouth quirk up into a cheeky smile, and I melt. I can't deny how attractive my husband is, and though we might not act like it, my heart skips a few beats when this happens. Moments like these are what I live for: when it all feels real.
"A fucking—"
"Joel," I warn.
"A Christmas dinner. With all the trimmings. You know, pigs in blankets, stuffing balls, crispy roast potatoes—man, Aspen, your roast potatoes are amazing," he says wistfully.
I chuckle. "A Christmas dinner? It's January, you had one less than a month ago!"
"I'm a sick man, Aspen. I could have a side of pumpkin spice latte, too," he adds, and we both laugh together. "Do you reckon if we phoned up Starbucks, they might make me one?"
I snort. "No, but I can pop to the coffee shop down the road that does it all year round if you want. It doesn't taste the same, though. I swear it's a bit weaker, but I can get you one anyway?"
He shakes his head with a grin. "No, it's fine. You can bring me one in the morning on your way in."
I wave my hand as if I were a fairy and bow to him. "Your wish is my command!"
The door to the room opens and Nicholas walks in, notes in hand. Joel sits up a little more, but the smile remains on his lips.
"Mr Watkins—"
"It's Joel," Joel cuts Nicholas off.
"Joel, the doctor has asked me to fill this in. I just need some details. Is your hand up to writing?" Nicholas asks. He passes Joel some form and a pen when he gets a nod in response.
"Nick, isn't it?" Joel asks. Nicholas nods. "Do you think the kitchen would make an ill man a Christmas dinner?"
"Joel, you know the answer is no!" I reply with a grin.
"I... I don't think they would," Nicholas says. He chuckles afterwards, and I notice the dimple in his cheek comes out. The sun beams through the window and onto him, reminding me of an angel.
They say that when you see someone you like, your pupils dilate because of oxytocin. When those jewel-like amber eyes meet mine from across the room, I swear I watch his dilate.
My own eyes, I know are probably pumped full of oxytocin right now as well.
'Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.'
I glance back at Joel. I shouldn't be feeling something for someone else when my husband is lying in a hospital bed.
Especially my husband's nurse.
"That's a shame. Aspen, looks like you'll be busy tonight!" Joel jokes.
I feign offence and shake my head. "You wish!"
Joel snorts and hands Nicholas back the pen. "Is this for that anti-seizure drug?"
Nicholas nods, and I watch his curls move as he does. "He just needs to know what type to prescribe, that's all. When he's done, I'll come in with the dosage and explain everything."
"Sounds like fun. So, no clubbing tonight?" Joel jokes.
Nicholas smirks. "Unfortunately, not, no. I mean, by all means, you can try, but most of the drugs will make you want to sleep instead. In fact, I might join you—"
"Get the doctor to come too, we can have a proper night of it. When I end up on the floor in a seizure, we'll all be good!" Joel carries on. Both of them laugh.
"You're an idiot," I mutter and fold my arms with a smile. I wonder how long it'll be before Joel's mood swing takes back over.
The fact remains that his disease has a fifty per cent chance of passing down to Gabriel. We need to discuss it, and I know Joel knows it too.
"Right, I'll go take these to the doctor. If you need anything, you know where the call button is," Nicholas says. He turns to me. "Make sure you're taking breaks as well."
"I keep telling her. But she sits here religiously," Joel says. I glance at him and his lips curve into a cheeky smile.
"I'm heading home later for a shower! Leave me alone!" I defend. "I might even pick you up a blooming pumpkin spice latte as you asked!"
"Mate, I have her whipped," Joel jokes.
I watch Nicholas chuckle at Joel's comment, and our eyes meet for a second.
"I'll see you both later," Nicholas says. He smiles at me and as he turns around to leave, I notice the room get darker as if an angel was cast out from heaven.
If I went after him, would Joel think anything? If I kissed him, what would Nicholas do? Would he kiss me back like I hope he would?
'And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from the evil one.'
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The next morning, I put Joel's precious pumpkin spice latte on his portable table thing while he sleeps.
The door opens and Nicholas appears. "He's asleep?"
I nod. "Yeah. Is everything okay?"
He nods and walks in. I notice he's wearing dark blue scrubs today. They look much better on him than the proper uniform. "The doctor will be doing his rounds soon. He's planning to try Joel on a new drug."
"The one they didn't prescribe yesterday?" I question.
Nicholas nods. "Don't ask me. I became a nurse so I didn't have to answer questions like this." We both chuckle.
"I'll wait here until they come in then," I mention.
"I feel like I should ask, Aspen. Do you have any other support? His mother, for example?" Nicholas asks.
I shake my head. "Not right now. She doesn't know yet. Just like I didn't." I notice the last four words of my sentence have a hint of bitterness like ash. I need to get over it, though, and I know I do. Joel didn't tell me when he should have, but it's done now.
"I'm probably going to sound condescending here, but you both need support, Aspen. This is—"
"I know," I finish for him.
His eyes fall on mine, and I practically melt in position. The birds sing their serenade outside and the sun beams through the window.
My mother kept repeating one bible quote when I told her about my pregnancy; 'If they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For, it is better to marry than to burn with passion.' So, despite us deciding to put Gabriel up for adoption, she forced us up the aisle in the name of God.
Since I married Joel, I have genuinely never felt anything else for another man. Anyone would think it impossible, especially when I know Joel and I aren't exactly... in love as we should be. Or at least, not like in a Disney film. I thought the quote Mum repeated was right: Joel and I may not have been in love, but I haven't burned with passion since I married him.
But as the sun illuminates Nicholas as he stands by the window, I can absolutely say that the quote is wrong. I can definitely feel something despite my marriage certificate. I want to run my hands through that mess of curls, and feel what it's like to kiss those lips.
"Joel was saying yesterday how he's worried you have no one," Nicholas whispers.
I give him a small smile. "It's fine. Thank you, though."
"It can't hurt to have a friend," he says and passes me a few leaflets of befriending services.
"Thanks," I answer. He gives me a smile that brings out the dimple again, and I feel both empathy and something a little more coming from him.
The moment my hand brushes his to take the paper, I feel my face flush as if I'm burning lava.
"No worries," he whispers, and our eyes meet for a moment longer than they probably should. I hold the leaflets as if they're my anchor from drowning in the sea of flushed embarrassment and desire.
"I'd better get on. I'll come back later with the doctor," Nicholas stutters quietly.
"Thanks," I say.
He gives me a small nod before disappearing like the sea breeze.
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I put the coffee down and pick up my book again. The black words against the cream paper dance to the tune playing softly through my earphones while Joel naps again. A part of me wants nothing more than to do as he suggested and go home to do something else. But we both know there is nothing else. I didn't have a job before all of this, his job is on hold; I spoke to the coffee shop yesterday and explained the situation.
The only thing that's left is my university course. They put my assignments and exams on extension until I know more about his condition. His is... well, who knows right now.
As for his mother, he still doesn't want her to know. I can guess it's because he doesn't want to worry her after what happened to Frank.
The only thing there is for me to do is read a book while I'm waiting. I don't even know what I'm waiting for anymore – another symptom to manifest, another drug to be prescribed, another seizure, another doctor to come in and tell us about when and if he can go home... it doesn't end.
I put the book down on the windowsill and sigh. The sun that was out early this morning has decided to hide behind rain clouds. Typical January weather: gloomy, windy, and reflective of my mood.
Growing up, I had nothing but church, books, and school to keep my boredom at bay. Sometimes my parents would play board games with me, and sometimes Dad would take me to museums or something. I remember once, he took me around all the museums in London and told me not to tell my mum we went to the science museum in case she got angry about it. He'd take me to the cinema on occasion as well, always a secret from Mum, and always with the promise of ice cream and popcorn. Those days were my favourites.
When I was twelve, I was allowed a tv in my room, but only the in-built DVD player would work, so I made my way through the Disney DVDs in between schoolwork and learning the bible with Mum. Until I was able to go out by myself at fourteen, when I'd spend most afternoons in the local library reading pretty much everything my mum would ban at home.
I stare at the book on the windowsill in front of me and sigh. If only books could help me now, if only I'd had more of an interest in anything else, maybe I could stop sitting and waiting.
If I'd had more assertion growing up, maybe Joel would have found the confidence to confide in me sooner. Or better yet, if I'd shown more restraint, maybe we wouldn't have had to be forced into marriage and things would be easier for everyone.
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