A Memory
I'm heartsick. Broken. No matter how much air I take in, I can't seem to fill the emptiness in my chest. It's no wonder my lungs ache; in the hours I've been here, the nurses have told me to calm down at least a hundred times. "You're hyperventilating, dear," they say.
Yeah, no shit. I've been in this damn waiting room for going on three hours and have no idea what they've done to him. "Drink some water and rest. You'll be no good to him if you're laid up, too..." they say.
And I know they're right. I'm sure they see dozens of these kinds of situations daily, some probably even more grim; but in my worst nightmares I couldn't dream up something more terrifying than this moment. My head throbs as I picture him lying there on a cold metal table, sterile instruments pressing into his skin, guided by sterile gloved hands of men and women who've dedicated their lives to doing just this-saving another's. I know he's where he needs to be and there's nothing more I can do for him aside from telling him I love him and begging him to live, but I still feel so helpless. Like I'm doing nothing at all. Like I could lose him at any given second and spend the rest of my life wondering if he heard the things I screamed as they pulled him from that car.
"I love you. I need you. Please don't leave me..." I screamed over and over again.
I hope he heard my words, just like I hope he's holding onto them for dear life right now. I can't stand to think he's stuck with the memories of everything I said before them and the anguished look in my eyes as he walked away like he was doing nothing more than making a quick trip to the gas station.
I can't help but wonder which one of us is more selfish-him, for going against my wishes even when I begged him not to, or me. I put myself in front of dreams he's been chasing since childhood and was surprised when he didn't pick me. My heart was aching long before the crash and the blood. Long before the sights and sounds I can't shake out of my head. But my anger and disappointment in him all fell away the moment I nearly lost him. They were the slowest moments of my life and every breath I've taken since just hasn't felt the same.
My reality now is this-I have a loving husband who means more to me than anyone ever has. We're all human and make mistakes, but he promised to love me and cherish me me until the day he dies, and I won't accept that day as today.
It's unreal. I've been through a lot in my life, but never like this. I've always kicked shit to the side and moved on...but there's no such thing as moving on without Ryan. And that's why I can't think past this moment.
My legs bounce nervously and I squeeze my eyes so tightly I see stars. I really need a smoke, but I'm terrified the second I do will be the very same second they'll say he's out of surgery. Screw it. I think my bad luck's run out for the day. I bite my lip and dig inside my purse for my box of cigarettes, desperate to feel something familiar.
I'm outside in the warm Nevada air for less than five minutes-just enough to feed my addiction and grab some fresh air. This city is crazy; I fell in love here. Married Ryan here. And now I'm losing him here, in our city of sin and loneliness.
I'm so worn...so wrecked that my hand shakes as I bring the cigarette up to my lips and take a long, slow drag. And honestly, I do feel a little better even if it's all chemical and temporary. I close my eyes and try to conjure up all the happy moments I've shared with him over the last few months-the almost instant chemistry between us the very first day we met. His warm hands and lips on my bare skin. Driving for days and weeks with no end in sight, conquering the ordinary and defying our better judgement. Falling in love and committing to that love with vows that promised we'd be here one day-in sickness and in health. And here I am in sickness, hoping like hell we'll get another day to live out the other side of our promise.
My shirt sticks to the tacky bricks of the hospital building as I pull away. I put my cigarette out in a tray above a trash can and pop a piece of spearmint gum into my mouth to keep my occupied. The same sad people are in the waiting chairs around the one I've stationed myself in. I settle back in and draw my legs up on the chair to rest my chin on my knees, as if curling up into a ball will somehow make this somehow all go away.
I swear I'm all cried out; I'm not sure how there are even tears left to cry, but I do. My breath catches and I'm about to start into a full on sob when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I swipe the streams away from my cheeks and clear my eyes enough to see the name lit up on the screen. We've only met once, and I only have her number saved in my phone because she texted me a funny picture of Ryan as a child just before we left after Christmas.
"Harlow," my voice cracks on her name. "It's bad. He's in surgery. It's..." I can't relive it until I know how it ends, so I'm thankful she was able to make out the frantic message I left on her voicemail. It's a terrible thing to leave in a message but I had no choice. I needed her to know. "I'm sorry I..."
And then the unthinkable happens. My sick heart is warmed when I see her before me. I'm nearly knocked sideways when her eyes catch mine; she's so very much Ryan it both hurts and calms. I don't know what to say, so my feet do the work for me, carrying me closer until I fall into her open arms. Then, we cry. And it's like I've cried with her a thousand times.
We barely know each other, but somehow we fit. If there's anyone in the world who loves Ryan even a sliver as much as I do, it's her. She's kind and sweet and her being here means so much. And while I know she's ultimately here for her brother, I like to think she might be here for me, too. Even a little.
"H-how are you here? So close?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"Andrew and I were in Los Angeles on a long weekend, staying at his family's vacation home. I booked a flight the second I got your message," she says between tears. "How're you holding up?"
"Horribly," I admit and let out a breath as we sit down beside one another in the hospital waiting room. I'm thankful she's not asking for too many details about the accident. "He hit that wall so hard. If he wasn't wearing his seatbelt he wouldn't have even made it to the hospital," I tell her and my voice breaks. "He's been in surgery for hours. There's pressure on his brain and glass and..." I trail off. "I just don't know what to do. This can't be happening. I don't know what the hell to do..."
She leans in closer and tips her head against mine the way I imagine good friends do, and there's no stopping my vulnerability right now. I didn't realize how lonely I felt in this situation until she showed up. Now I'm breaking down in a way I seldom do in front of others. Ryan is one of the few people who has really seen me cry, and maybe it's the fact that I stand the chance to lose him that's drawing it out of me. Or maybe it's because she's his twin.
A young girl a few chairs down begins to cry and her mother scoops her in her arms where she instantly calms. I've done my best not to eavesdrop, but I've been in her long enough to know her baby sister is in the middle of an emergency appendectomy. It's the power of love and family playing out before my eyes, and it's something I've never really understood until right now. I'm not alone anymore; I have family that cares about me and what I'm going through. I couldn't ask for a better feeling in the world. I don't think of myself as an overly sensitive person who cries at the drop of a dime, but this realization has got me pretty choked up. I swallow a lump of emotion, grateful for the silver lining this wreck has shown me.
"How'd we get here, Hen?" She asks gently. I know she deserves to know. It's her brother and she loved him long before they were even born. "Was it really just an accident?"
I shake my head and look toward my feet. I want to lie, because it'd be so much easier than telling her the truth and admitting things haven't been so carefree and wonderful as they were at Christmas. Funny how things can change in two months, but money and pills will do that.
Even to a love like ours.
"I saw it coming weeks ago," I whisper. "The recklessness. I couldn't stop him. He'd do anything to win. Even lose himself,"
She looks at me with curiously sad eyes. I know she needs more than I can give her. I chew my lip, not ready to go any deeper into it than that. I'm sure it'll all come out in time. She'll be disappointed in him and maybe in me for not being able to fix it. I'm still pissed with myself for not being able to rein him in.
And though I'm still angry with him for how it all went down, I forgive him. I've been there. Made mistakes. I was making them right along side him for months before it caught up with me. It was enough to wake me up. Clean me up. But not him, no. If anything, it only made things worse.
I can't help but worry this is somehow all my fault.
"Thank God for you," she says so softly I can barely hear her. "I'm so glad he's not alone."
My eyes float toward her left hand as she slips her phone into her purse, and I catch on a generous, sparkly diamond band on her ring finger that wasn't there on Christmas. Even though I'm torn to shreds right now, I can't help but smile.
"Congratulations," I say softly, nodding toward her hand. She breaks out into a brilliant, contagious smile.
"Thank you!" She squeals. She's practically giddy and for a moment I almost forget how tightly wound I am.
"That's awesome." I really like Andrew and I'm happy to see things working out for them. It's nice to take a breather from the heavy subject we've been muddling through since she arrived twenty minutes ago.
"You're the first to know in the family," she says simply, and her words are far more tender to me than she probably realizes. "It happened last night. I feel silly parading around with this kind of news when my brother's in the operating room. I'm sorry, Henley."
"Don't be," I shake my head and smile. "Ry will be happy, too. I can't wait to see the look on his face when you tell him," I allow myself the image of him waking up with no pain and no dangerous cravings. No addictions. I picture his beautiful, whiskey eyes shining when they see me again. I picture them surrounded by wrinkles in years to come, because this isn't the end.
"Thanks for calling me," her voice is soft and shaky.
She and Ryan were close growing up, but I know their contact was pretty limited since we've been on the road. Other than Christmas, I'm not sure how much they've talked, so I don't know how in tune with our situation she is. I tread carefully, not wanting to surprise her. I stick to the basics, like how shitty I feel.
"Thank you for coming" I say, twisting my wedding ring around my finger. I wonder how transparent I am. "Means a lot."
"Hey, we're sisters," she says easily and I smile. "And it's about damn time we make good on that, even if it is a pretty shitty kickoff," she laughs but my smile soon fades as I see the doctor walking toward us. I hold my breath as Harlow's hand comes up to rest on my shoulder, then I brace myself as I wait for my future to unfold.
"Mrs. James?" He says and my heart slams wildly in my chest. "We were able to relieve the pressure on his brain, but it'll be a little while before we see how he does. He's in the recovery room right now, then he'll be put into intensive care."
"I need to see him," I say, jumping out of my seat and walking toward the door. The doctor reaches out with the hands that saved my husband's life and gently stops me. There's no way in hell he can keep me from running in there to see Ryan. In fact, there's nothing in this world that will ever keep me from him again.
"He needs to rest. We'll let you know when you're able to see him. There may be changes. It may take awhile for him to wake up, and when he does, you'll need to be prepared for what may come. He may wake up and recover easily, but I want you to be ready for the possibility that he may not remember you."