"Doesn't prove what?" Quinn asked.
"Does your mom make really, really great pie?"
Quinn stiffened, hesitating before he spoke. "She's Italian. Everything she makes is amazing. Josh loved her pies."
I breathed out, smiling.
"Avery," Deb warned.
Quinn narrowed one eye. "What are you trying to say, Avery?"
"It wasn't a dream, Quinn. I need you to believe me."
Deb walked over to the opposite side of the bed and touched my shoulder. "Quinn, Avery's very tired. Maybe you should head out."
I pushed her hand away. "I can describe your mom's apartment. I can describe the way her pies taste. I can tell you about Josh's parents."
Quinn stood, staring at me as if I were suddenly dangerous. "I don't know what you're doing, Avery, but it ain't right."
"I know what you're thinking. I'm not a crazy stalker, Quinn. I'm married to Josh. We spent time together, a lot of time together, and I have memories of things I couldn't possibly have memories of. It wasn't a dream. It was another life, and I want to go back."
"I'm sorry, Avery. You haven't been to my mom's house."
"House?" I asked, swallowing.
"Avery, stop," Deb begged.
"What do you want me say?" he asked.
"I want you tell Dr. Weaver that you believe me. I want you to convince her to put me back under."
"Avery!" Deb said.
I looked down, resolute. "Medically induced comas are done all the time. You can sell all of my things and put me in a nursing home."
"Avery, enough," Deb said, getting angry.
"He's probably worried sick about me!" I yelled. "I have to get back to him somehow!"
Quinn took a few steps back, and Parsons rushed in. "Is everything okay in here?"
I looked at Quinn. "You were in love with Deb. You were so happy, Quinn. You were going to ask her to marry you."
Deb's face flushed bright red, and she gestured for Parsons to escort Quinn out of the room.
Quinn complied, turning around to look at me once before Parsons closed the door behind them.
Deb shook her head. "Why didn't you tell me this was your plan? I do a favor for you, and you lie to me?"
"I'm sorry." I wiped my cheek. "I just have a few days left, and I don't know how much longer they'll leave Josh on the ventilator. It was a last-minute decision."
Deb sat, digging her elbow into my mattress and resting her head in her hand. "Tell me more."
I sniffed. "Really?"
She nodded, sincere.
"We'd just finished hanging the last painting on the wall of the apartment."
"Really? I thought you didn't like to put holes in the walls."
"Because it didn't feel like mine. Josh didn't understand why it made me so happy to watch him hammer holes into the paint." My breath caught. "Because it was ours. We'd made it into a home."
Deb nodded, resting her chin in her hand.
"Josh had just finished setting up the crib. He wanted to decorate her nursery in fire and rescue stuff." I made a face. "So we compromised. Pink and gray firetrucks and ambulances." I touched my flat stomach. "He was such a proud father. Now he'll never be able to hold her. I'll never be able to hold her. I might never be able to hold him."
"You really love him that much? You'd go back into a coma?"
"This isn't my life, Deb. I know it sounds absolutely insane."
"I believe you."
"You do?"
She nodded. "But you can't go back. We'll just have to make sure Josh wakes up."
"How?" I asked.
She shook her head, her hand pressing against her cheek. "I'll take you there every day after PT. You talked him into marrying you once. Talk him into waking up."
It had been ten days since I awoke from what I had thought was my life. Physical therapy was grueling. Even after just seven weeks, lying in bed motionless had made my muscles weak and scrawny, but I was determined to make progress. Every day, my body grew stronger, and even though I aspired to walk out of the hospital with my husband, my will to move forward diminished. My heart was broken. The love I'd felt had been very real.
Deb wheeled me into Josh's room every day after PT. His body still lay unmoving, a shell of his former self. It was painful to see him so gaunt and weak, but I spoke to him for hours, telling him about our other life, and how we could have it again if he'd only wake up. I held his hand, knowing full well the rumors floating around the hospital, but Dr. Weaver had ordered another round of tests, seeing some change in Josh's brain activity when I was in the room.
"I will be so glad to be able to take you home and feed you a decent meal." Aunt Ellen slipped her hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are getting so thin."
I smiled at her, hoping it looked convincing. I was grateful for her help, and I knew she had spent her savings to be by my side.
"I'd like to see Josh again. Could you tell Deb when she gets back?"
"You've spent two hours with him today, sweetheart."
I tried to hold my smile, feeling I may come undone along my tattered edges if I didn't get to see his face. The uncertainty in her eyes was obvious.
"I'm getting discharged tomorrow. It's my last day."
"So come back when you start your shift," Aunt Ellen said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"I won't be cleared to work for a while. I don't have a car. I don't know when I can come back."
"You'll find a way."
Like everyone else, Aunt Ellen didn't understand. She was hoping I would forget my other life. She thought if I had enough time and space away from him, my love for him and my memories of our marriage would fade away. It wouldn't.
"I should go now, before lunch," I said, knowing I was pushing my luck. Aunt Ellen had no doubt heard the whispers around the hospital. "This whole thing is my fault," I explained. "It only feels right that I offer him some company."
She reluctantly held out her hand, but I waved it away, pushing myself to my feet. My body was stiff and ached from physical therapy, but nothing compared to the crippling pain in my heart.
My eyes teared as I gripped the handle of the muted silver cane that helped me to keep my balance. Every step was a struggle, but I made my way out of the room and down the hall. Physical therapy was difficult, but it was a relief not to have to depend on anyone else to take me to see Josh.
My chest heaved as I paused in front of Josh's door to rest.
Quinn stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him.
"Any change?" I asked, hopeful.
Quinn's head shook infinitesimally. "Nothing. Not a goddamn thing except for your visits. The second you leave, his brain activity slips right back."
I looked down at the ridiculous slippers Deb had brought me. Pink bunny heads shook above my toes. "He will," I choked out before sliding my hand over my cheek to wipe away a stray tear.
"Avery, I should probably tell you something. His dad got in last night." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "He's decided to..." He took a step forward, pausing when my aunt touched my shoulder.
"Hi, Quinn. Nice to see you again," Aunt Ellen said.
"Mrs. Collins," Quinn said, nodding.
"Avery is being discharged in the morning. She'd like to say good-bye to Josh."
"Not good-bye," I said.
"Good-bye for now," Aunt Ellen qualified.
Quinn glanced at her face before swallowing whatever information he was about to offer. "Good luck with your recovery, Avery. I hope to see you back at the hospital very soon." He turned in the opposite direction, hurrying through the double doors.
Forcing myself to continue, I pressed my palm against Josh's door, saying a silent prayer before pushing it open. A man was hunched over, sitting in the chair next to Josh's bed. His head snapped up at the sound of my cane on the floor. When he turned, I saw the essence of a man I'd come to love in my other life.
"Hello, Mr. Avery. I'm Avery ...
Jacobs," I stammered, the name sounding foreign.
He pushed from his seat and rounded the foot of the bed, holding out his arms. "I'm so glad you're okay. I'm glad ..." His voice caught in his throat as he struggled to contain his emotions. He pulled me in, and I let him, finally feeling something familiar.
"I am so sorry," I whispered as Mr. Avery pulled me against his chest.
He looked a little different from what I remembered, but the scent of motor oil and grease was the same. A few sniffles turned into tears, and soon, his body was shaking around me. I pressed the palm of my free hand against his back and let my eyes close, struggling to keep us both from crumbling into a heap of despair.
We broke apart as Dr. Rosenberg knocked on the open door and stepped inside. He smiled at me, looking tan and rested. "Hi, Avery. Your aunt told me you would be in here. I'm sorry I haven't been in sooner. I took the family to Fiji for vacation."
"It's' fine," I said, trying not to recoil.
Dr. Rosenberg read over Josh's chart before he turned his attention to Josh's father. "Mr. Avery, I've spoken with Dr. Weaver about your decision. We can discuss it later." The doctor nodded at me with a friendly smile.
He was trying to hint for me to leave, but I stepped forward. "What decision?"
Mr. Avery looked even more devastated.
My eyes danced between the two of them, and then I looked down at Josh, afraid. "What decision did you make?"
"Avery," Dr. Rosenberg said, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. I shrunk away from him.
Everyone froze when Josh's monitor picked up.
"See?" I said, hobbling over to sit in his bedside chair. My cane fell to the ground, and I took his hand in mine. "He can hear us. He knows we're in here with him. He just needs more time. I woke up. When he's ready, Josh will, too."
Dr. Rosenberg looked down at me with sad eyes and reached for the call button.
"How can I help you?" a nurse squawked over the intercom.
"I need to speak with Mr. Avery in private. Please escort Miss Jacobs to her room." He stepped back. "I'm sorry, Avery. You're too upset."
"You're damn right I'm upset," I said, shaking my head, looking up at Josh's father. "Don't do this, please," I begged, tears streaming down his face. "He just needs a little more time. Just a little more time."
Parsons and Smith came in, picking up my cane and me, and gently guiding me toward the door.
I turned around. "Please!"
His face was red and blotchy, his cheeks wet.
"It's okay, Avery, shh," Parsons said. "Let's get you back to your room."
"A light sedative, Parsons," Dr. Rosenberg ordered, no inflection or emotion in his tone.
"No," I wailed. "Please let me stay with him!"
Aunt Ellen met us outside my door, helping the nurses to tuck me into bed. I was limp with despair. It made no sense for Josh and me to have gone through the accident, for me to have the memories I couldn't forget, for Josh's brain activity to increase at the sound of my voice, if it was all just a dream. Love was something we couldn't see, an intangible variable to the equation of life. Who were any of them to say what I felt wasn't real? Separating us may have been sentencing him to death. Josh was the one person I couldn't let go.
"It happened," I bawled. "We love each other. We had a life together."
Parsons leaned down, caressing my hair while Smith pricked my skin with a syringe, pushing the sedative into my veins. My mind fogged over, my body becoming too heavy to fight against them.
"Just rest, honey," Aunt Ellen said.
Once again, my eyes closed, but I didn't dream. I remembered only sinking into darkness, sadness pulling me further into the deep. I wondered if I would ever see my husband again.
I waited in a wheelchair for Aunt Ellen, watching the various cars and minivans load and unload patients and passengers.
The leaves on the trees were already beginning to turn, and the fall breeze blew through my light sweater.
Brakes whined as a yellow cab came to a stop, and the driver side door opened and closed. My breath caught when I saw the cabbie approach.
"Need a cab?" he asked.
My eyes glossed over. "No, thank you. I'm waiting on my aunt."
"Is she on her way?"
"She's just coming from the parking lot."
"I have a card," he said, digging a creased rectangle from his pocket. He placed it in my hand as if it were an inconvenience. "Call if you need a ride."
I looked down and sucked in a tiny gasp. "Thanks, Mel."
Mel hobbled back to his cab, waving once without looking back.
Once the dirty cab pulled away, Aunt Ellen swerved her rental toward the curb, parking next to me. She hopped out, rushing to help me into the passenger seat.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"That was Mel," I said, holding his card to my chest.
She watched me for a moment, curious, and then shut my door and rushed around the front of the car to her side. "And we're off," she said, merging into traffic.
With every mile we traveled closer to my building, I felt emptier.
"I bet you're excited to get home," Aunt Ellen said.
"Not really."
"No?"
"Not without Josh."
Aunt Ellen pressed her lips together. "That was some dream you had."
She exited the highway, taking a detour to the pharmacy before parking in front of my building.
"Here we are," she chimed, twisting off the engine.
I pushed out of Aunt Ellen's rental, stepping across the leaf-covered ground.
She rubbed her hands together. "Dear Lord, it's cold for this time of year, isn't it? It can't just be that I'm a Floridian."
I nodded. "It's colder than usual." My cane clicked against the sidewalk in a slow, defeated rhythm.
"I did a little shopping. I'm going to make you some spaghetti." She chuckled. "It's the only thing I can remember that you like. At least, you did when you were eight."
"I still do." I tried my best to smile, but failed.
Parsons stepped out onto the stoop, the automatic lock clicking behind her.
She beamed, her nose already red from the chill in the air. "Avery! Great to see you back. I was just on my way to work. How are you feeling?"
"I'm ... I'm good." It was difficult to speak to her in a civil tone. I was relieved for a moment that Hope trying to seduce my husband had just been a dream, but then silently cursed myself. I would keep the painful parts if it meant I could keep the good.
Hope patted me on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it. I have a lasagna I'd like to bring up for you later if that's all right."
"Of course," I said. "That's very thoughtful of you."
With a nod, Parsons hurried down the porch steps. I watched her pull out her keys and make her way to her car. I shook my head. Part of this was her fault, and she didn't even know it. It was confusing, hating her for something she hadn't done.
I gripped the railing, pulling my weight upward with slow, agonizing steps. Inside wasn't much easier, but I was happy to be out of the chilly air.
My apartment smelled of bleach and artificial flowers. "I hope you don't mind. I tidied up a bit." She slid my purse from my shoulder and placed it on the kitchen island.
My gaze drifted over the empty space that should have held a table. I looked away. That was from my other life, the one I preferred.
"You're a minimalist," Aunt Ellen joked as she pulled a pot from the cupboard. "That will make it easier on us during the move."
"Move?" I asked, sinking into the small couch in the living room.
I would miss the new pots and pans, the kitchen table, the new mattress, the new comforter, and shams. Most of all, I would miss Josh.
I waited for the scamper of tiny puppy nails against the floor and then covered my mouth. "Dee," I whispered, mourning the loss of him as well.
"Oh, honey," Aunt Ellen said. "I can't stay here forever." She laughed as she continued to r
ummage through the groceries she'd purchased.
"I'm confused."
"I've been meaning to discuss it with you, but you've been so upset. I just thought it would be easier for me to look after you in Florida."
"I don't need you to look after me."
Setting a jar of sauce down on the counter with a loud clank, she gave me a hard stare before sighing. "You have physical therapy, your car was totaled, and you can't go back to work yet. You can't be here alone."
"I have some money saved up, and I have Deb. I'll be okay for a little while."
"What about hospital bills, rent, utilities? They didn't get put on hold just because you were unconscious, sweetheart. Life went on."
Life went on.
My chest ached, and I wished it were me who hadn't woken up. I touched my chest, feeling palpable pain in my heart. I needed Josh. I needed our daughter. I would give anything to fall back asleep and be lying next to Josh in our bed, his hand on my belly as Penny kicked.
"I need to use the restroom," I mumbled as I slowly limped my way past the kitchen. The smell of diced onions turned my stomach as it mingled with the odor of cleaning supplies.
Flipping the light switch, my line of sight lowered to the floor where I had once curled up and cried, knowing my life with Josh was ending.
I let the cane fall to the linoleum floor with a clatter, gripping the edge of the sink. My eyes rose slowly to meet my own reflection.
"Avery? Are you okay, honey?"
"Fine," I called back.
It was the first time I had seen the aftermath of what the accident had done. A few yellow-gray bruises marred my skin. A deep purple streaked under my sunken eyes. My cheeks were hollow, like my chest felt. I raised my hand, letting my fingertips slide against my skin. I barely recognized myself; I hardly recognized anything. I was stuck two years in the past, with no hope of the same future. I folded into a sobbing mess on the ground, my body unable to support the horrible reality.
"Avery!" Aunt Ellen shrieked as she lunged toward me, lifting my chin to look into my eyes.
A million thoughts flickered in my mind before I rose to the surface. I looked up, expecting to see Josh above me, devastated all over again to see Aunt Ellen.
"No!" I cried, pulling into the fetal position on the floor.
Aunt Ellen sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around me and holding me to her chest. "Should I call Deb?" she asked.
"No, she's at work. I just passed out," I said, reaching for my wrist. I counted. "I'm fine. Just weak. I should rest."