"Tell them. I'm so afraid," she cried.
"Don't be scared, baby," I yelled out as I pushed down the gas pedal. "I'm coming. I swear I am coming to get you!"
"Josh! Josh!"
The line went dead, and I clutched the phone in my palm, praying she would call me back.
Just a few minutes later, I was pulling into the emergency room, parking my SUV near the ambulance bay. I rushed through the doors, barely able to catch my breath.
The lobby was filled with old men and sick children, but I didn't see my wife. "Avery?" I choked out.
The receptionist waved to me from behind her desk. "Josh? Everything okay?"
"Angie," I said, relieved to see a familiar face. "Avery called me. I think she's here. I think she's hurt. Is she here?"
"Take a breath, Josh," Angie said. Her voice was too calm, only making me more afraid.
"Josh!" I spun around to see Ashton holding a clipboard in her hand. "I was just about to call you. Avery's here."
"Is she all right? What happened?"
"She took a turn too fast and rolled her car. She was wearing a seat belt, but ..."
I only waited a couple of seconds for her to find the words. I didn't care about tact; I wanted to know if my wife was okay. "But what? Ashton, fucking tell me!"
"She's stable. Dr. Weaver just left, but she'll be back. Dr. Rosenberg has ordered her something for the pain.
"What about Penny?"
"Who?"
"The baby," I snapped. I followed her through a double set of doors to the exam room hallway.
"I'm so sorry, Josh." Ashton stopped, turning to me. "We did the best we could."
I nodded, my knees threatening to give out under the weight of the sadness. We did the best we could. The words played on an endless loop in my mind. Did we? Was there more we could have done? I should have stopped her from walking out on me. I should have listened when she told me she was upset instead of dismissing her as irrational. My life with Avery was everything I'd ever dreamed of, and I had let it slip through my fingers.
My feet stopped shuffling, and I realized Ashton had guided me to one of the doors that lined the hallway, each hiding a tragedy behind it.
"It's going to be all right," Ashton reassured me.
I nodded, knowing it was a lie. I'd uttered that phrase to so many fathers and husbands. They were just words staff felt compelled to say to relieve our own guilt. It wasn't easy to feel helpless when helping was the primary function of our jobs. If we couldn't help, what good were we?
I pushed open the door to where Ashton had led me. Words wouldn't change the outcome.
Avery lay on the bed looking as if she'd fallen asleep. Her blonde hair splayed against the white pillow, a purplish bruising marring her skin just below her hairline.
Monitors beeped around me in a steady rhythm as I wrapped my hand around hers, squeezing her fingers gently as if she were so fragile, she would crumble and slip from my grasp. The first of many sobs racked through my body as I let my tears fall onto the white blanket covering her.
"I should have never let you leave."
I pressed my lips to the back of her hand before holding her soft skin against my cheek, letting my eyes fall closed so I could picture her smiling on our wedding day.
"I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing you in pain. I'm going to add it to the list, okay?" I attempted a smile, feeling as broken as the rest of me. I combed away a few wayward hairs from her face.
My life with Avery had slipped from a dream into a frightening nightmare, one from which we couldn't wake up. It was as if we were in limbo, suspended in purgatory. Her eyes moved behind fluttering lashes that never batted open. Her heart rate spiked at whispered I love yous, but never jolted her from her deep slumber. I couldn't let go of us. I refused to walk away.
I went to her every day and waited. Waited for the impossible, for a sign, for her to look at me ... hoping sinners were granted miracles, too.
My eyes felt puffy and raw as I stared out the window. My lunch sat on the table uneaten, and Deb sat in her chair, pretending to read a magazine.
After a knock on the door, two women in white lab coats walked in, attended by a skinny male nurse.
Deb stood. "Avery, these are the doctors I told you about." She pointed at a brunette with shoulder-length, kinky hair. Her full lips were glossed with a nude shade, complementing her dark, warm skin. "This is your neurologist, Dr. Livingston."
"Nice to meet you," I said.
Deb gestured to a short, squat woman with warm hazel eyes and silver hair. "This is Dr. Brock."
Dr. Brock was the first to speak, her smile lighting the room. "I'm so happy to meet you, Avery. I'm sure your situation has been very upsetting, but if you don't mind taking the time to explain, we're hoping maybe we can help."
"You can't help me," I said, sullen.
Dr. Livingston stepped forward. "We'd like to try."
Deb checked my monitors and then nodded to me once.
"Yes," I said to her, waving her away. "You've been here for hours. Go find Quinn." As soon as I spoke the words, I bit my lip.
Both doctors looked over at my monitors and traded glances.
"I mean," I said, trying not to cry, "take a break."
"Who is Quinn?" Dr. Brock asked.
I shook my head, unable to answer.
Deb returned to my side, holding my hand. "Quinn was Josh Avery's partner before the accident. She remembers Quinn and me having a relationship."
"Have you?" Dr. Livingston asked.
Deb shook her head and spoke quietly. "No. Never."
Something about being in a hospital made anything personal impersonal. Bad breath, sexual partners, foot fungus, vaginal odor, gastrointestinal noises, even past relationships and bad habits were no longer private, they were health history. In a hospital, doctors were priests, and anything less than cleansing your soul was an act of aggression against your wellbeing. Or, in this case, Deb must have felt she would be acting against mine.
Dr. Livingston gestured to her nurse. He left for a moment and then returned with two chairs. The doctors took a seat at the end of my bed.
"It would be interesting to ask her questions during a MEG," Dr. Livingston said.
Dr. Brock nodded, still staring at me with that deceivingly warm smile. "And your memories of Josh span back nearly two years?"
"Yes," I said, feeling more like an experiment than a patient.
Dr. Brock was trying hard to seem interested in helping me, but I could see them planning their articles in The New England Journal of Medicine. I had been guilty of the same excitement and curiosity the doctors had in their eyes. We were healthcare professionals, and day in and day out, we saw many of the same ailments. Seeing something atypical was exhilarating. That interest didn't mean I couldn't empathize, but it was a struggle to balance one against the other--a struggle the doctors were losing.
Dr. Brock crossed her legs and settled into her chair, readying her pen and notebook. "How did it make you feel when you saw Josh?"
I pointed to her paper. "I haven't agreed to a session. I'm not comfortable with notes."
"I understand," Dr. Brock said. "I can easily dispose of any notes at the end if you decide you don't wish to continue."
Deb glanced at me.
"But," Dr. Brock said, "this has clearly been traumatic for you. It would be overwhelming to try to process this loss of time and mourn Josh and the life you led while unconscious and still navigate today, or tomorrow, or the next day. Have you thought about what you'll do when you leave the hospital?"
"She has a week of physical therapy," Deb said. "They're moving her to rehab tomorrow."
"And after that?" Dr. Livingston prompted.
"I ... I don't know. Josh was living with me in my apartment. I'm not even sure I still have my apartment."
"You do," Deb said, squeezing my hand.
"Tell me more about your memories," Dr. Livingston said, "and the physiology that
accompanies them."
I frowned.
Dr. Brock stiffened. "Dr. Livingston, if you don't mind, I think we should concentrate on Avery's emotional state for the first session."
"Or not mix two completely separate health fields," Deb grumbled. "What was Dr. Weaver thinking?"
"Excuse me?" Dr. Livingston snapped.
"This is a train wreck," Deb said. She looked at me. "You both approached Dr. Weaver, didn't you?"
Dr. Brock breathed out a small laugh. "Hamata, Avery's recovery will happen in many different facets. We just want to help her readjust to reality."
"I'm very interested in--" Dr. Livingston began, looking to Dr. Brock instead of me.
Deb held up one hand. "We know you're very interested. We think you should both leave, and come back when you can stop talking like Avery isn't in the room."
The male nurse smiled.
"Hamata," Livingston began.
Deb walked over to the door, opened it, and smiled politely. The doctors traded glances and then stood, nodding to me. The nurse picked up the chairs and did the same.
"Feel better, Jacobs," he said.
"Thank you."
Deb began to shut the door behind the doctors, but a nurse pushed through, rushing around the room, checking monitors, pulling the EKG strip, and writing in my chart.
"Look, Jacobs. It's the new girl," Deb said.
"Hi," the nurse said back, barely looking up. Her voice instantly made me angry, but I had no idea why.
"New?" I asked.
"I started in the ER just before your accident," the nurse said. "Do you remember me?"
The tawny beauty reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite place her. I didn't remember knowing her at all from the hospital. Something told me she was bad news.
"No," I said simply. I wanted her to leave. Her presence made me want to throw things.
"You look tired, Parsons," Deb said.
"Yes, I'm swamped. Michaels called in. Pretty sure there's a Bruno Mars concert tonight."
Deb chuckled, but I narrowed my eyes.
Parsons smiled at me. "Sorry for not introducing myself first. I assumed because we've met before ... but I shouldn't have. I'm Hope Parsons. I actually just moved into your building a few weeks ago." She leaned over and offered her hand to me.
I didn't take it.
Parsons stood, slow and awkward. "Um ... okay, it was nice to meet you again. I have to get back to Josh's room."
"I bet you do," I murmured.
She glanced at me and then spoke to Deb. "I'm assisting Dr. Weaver with a procedure."
"On Josh?" I asked.
Parson's eyes grew large. "I shouldn't have said that. I can't discuss his care with--"
"You can discuss it with me," Deb said. "I'll be his nurse tomorrow."
Parsons shook her head. "I can't, Hamata. Not in front of Avery. I need this job."
I sat up. "Why? Because you're a single mom?"
Parsons hesitated. "Yes. Why?"
"When did you move into my building?"
Parsons was confused, but I could see she was counting in her head. "A few weeks after your accident."
"Have I met your son?" I asked.
"No."
I bit my lip. I was either going to be crazy for being right, or being wrong. "Is his name Toby?"
Parsons offered a cautious smile. "Yes? I must have been talking about him when I came in to check on you. We've had a few one-sided conversations," she said, her cheeks pink. She scribbled a few more things on my chart and then hooked it to the end of the bed. "I really have to go. Glad you're okay, Jacobs."
She hurried out, and Deb frowned at me. "What was that about?"
"You don't think it's weird that I know her son's name? That I even know she has a son?"
Deb shrugged. "She admitted to talking about him. You know loved ones are encouraged to speak to patients in comas. You heard her. That's all."
"Call Quinn," I said.
Deb winced. "I'm not calling Quinn. He's had a rough time, and ..."
"Deb, are you my friend?"
"Yes, but ..."
"Then call him. Tell him I want to see him. I have questions."
She stood, gathering her things. "Fine." She pointed at me. "But if you don't stop, one of those doctors is going to commit you just so they can do whatever tests they want. Be careful."
I smiled at her, watching her leave. "Thank you."
"To be honest," she said, pausing at the door. "I hope you're right. Quinn is hot, and I wouldn't mind getting pummeled by him every night."
"In a better life, he's in love with you."
Her grin was half sad, half hopeful. "Maybe they'll let me live there with you."
It had finally happened. Brooke had called me a selfish bastard. Years later, Avery had called me one, too. Hope was likely thinking it. They were all right. I was like poison, yet I had pursued Avery anyway.
I'd hoped if I did it the right way, if I was honest and treated her with respect, treated our relationship with respect, that maybe whoever had cursed me would give me a second chance.
I looked down at Avery, surrounded by machines, tubes, and steady, irritating noises that meant she was alive, but she was too far away for me to reach. I took her frail hands in mine, unsure if she would take me back when she woke. If she woke.
The door creaked as it opened behind me and footsteps sounded. It wasn't the sound of a nurse's sneakers, but Quinn's heavy boots.
"How's it going, partner?"
I sighed. "Still no change."
"You want me to wait with her? Get yourself a decent dinner."
"No."
"Breathe some fresh air. Take a shower."
"No."
"Josh, you need to--"
"What if she wakes up for two seconds and I'm not here?" I snapped.
"What if she wakes up for two seconds and you smell like old salami? She'll go back to sleep just so the smell will go away."
I shook my head, my eyes feeling raw and heavy. "I can't leave her, Quinn. I can't ..." My head fell, and my breath caught. I gripped the blanket, my knuckles turning white.
Quinn gripped my shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through. But she's going to need you to take care of her when she wakes up." He exhaled. "You can't take care of her like this, man. You need rest."
I took Avery's hand in mine and kissed her fingers, closing my eyes. "Okay," I said, standing. "You won't leave her?"
Quinn sat in my seat and held her hand. "Not even for a second. Not even to go to the bathroom. I'm right here until you're back. Don't forget to shave and brush your teeth. Seriously. This is the grossest I've ever seen you."
I nodded, trying to laugh at his joke. If Avery didn't wake up, I wasn't sure I'd ever laugh again.
I picked at my fingernails, nervous about seeing Quinn. The last time I'd seen him wasn't the last time he'd seen me, and I wasn't sure how to greet him. It was confusing trying to decide how well we knew each other.
I thought back to my time in the ER before the crash. Quinn and I had traded a few smart-ass remarks. He'd flirted with me a handful of times until he'd partnered up with Josh. After that, he didn't speak to me as much. I had to treat him as if we barely knew each other, and that was going to be difficult. Quinn was practically family.
A quiet knock sounded on the door. Deb walked in first, followed by Quinn. He looked nervous, too, and strangely, that made me feel more relaxed.
"Hi," I said simply.
"Hi, Jacobs," Quinn said, his voice sad.
"You can call me Avery," I said.
He was wearing his paramedic uniform, the navy-blue T-shirt and matching cargo pants with boots. I wanted to reach out and hug him, if just to feel that fabric against my skin again, but I continued picking at my nails.
Quinn's knee bobbed up and down, and he cleared his throat. "I was glad to hear you woke up. Gives me hope for Josh."
"He'll wake up," I said, unsure where t
he confidence came from.
One corner of Quinn's mouth twitched. "I heard you had quite the dream."
"Weird news travels fast."
"Josh would love to hear that. He was into you. He talked about you a lot before ..." Quinn sighed. "I knew he liked you, but ... when I rolled up on that wreck--" he shook his head and lifted his hands, pressing against an invisible ball of metal "--your driver's side hit his driver's side, and your open windows were welded together. The damnedest thing I've ever seen."
"I shouldn't have pulled out before looking. That was stupid," I said.
Quinn switched between expressions, unsure of which to use. "He called me from the scene. He sounded confused and out of breath. The last thing I heard him say was get her, and help Jacobs."
"He called you? From the scene?"
Quinn nodded. "I called nine-one-one, but I got there a few minutes before they did. I was still at the hospital, trying to score a date with Nikki Liberty."
I smiled. "She's pretty."
Quinn frowned. "When I pulled up, I ran up and had to look through your back window to see you both. His arms were around you, Avery. He held you until he was unconscious. I still can't figure out how your Prius was thrown back into his car--on that side--in that way. It doesn't seem physically possible."
My eyes burned, and I nodded. None of what happened was possible, yet it had happened. All of it.
"So, I think it's nice that you dreamed of him. I don't think it's weird at all. Matter of fact, I bet he's dreaming of you, too."
I blinked, letting tears fall for only a second before wiping them quickly away. "Have you heard any news? They won't tell me anything."
Quinn sighed. "His dad wanted to try to take him off the ventilator today. He has brain function, but he didn't do well off the machine. They're considering how much longer to keep him going."
"They're going to pull the plug?" I asked, sitting up.
"They don't have a lot of money, Avery. Josh had minimal insurance. They'll keep him alive as long as they can. I know. It makes me furious. The guys have started a fundraiser."
I bit my lip. Desperate times ... "Quinn? Mind if I ask you something incredibly weird?"
"Sure," he said, amused through his sadness.
"Is your last name Cipriani?"
He nodded.
I looked at Deb. She shrugged. "You could have heard that or seen that, Avery. You know I want to believe you, but that doesn't prove anything."