And Then You
By Amanda Richardson
I dedicate this book to my mom. Though you never shamelessly told me to marry a doctor or lawyer like Evi’s mom, you did tell me to marry someone relatively the same height as me, so that I can look into his eyes during our first dance. :) But in all seriousness… Mummy, thank you for being awesome, and for all of the wonderful advice you’ve given me over the years. I love you!
Prologue.
Nick
- September 2013 -
When I come to, I reach up and feel the gritty wound slashed across my forehead.
Shock: the first word that comes to mind.
Isabel: the second word that fleetingly arrives in my subconscious. As if on cue, I turn my head in search of my wife.
Wife: the third word I feel reverberated in my bones. I am deadened, as if I already know she’s been severed from me like an artery that’s been accidentally nipped on the operating table.
Accidentally.
This all happened accidentally.
- Later that Night -
I walk miserably to the grimy coffee station and refill my small paper cup for the fourth time. I don’t know why I’m drinking so much coffee. It’s not like I need to stay awake. I can guarantee that I won’t be sleeping anytime soon. No matter the outcome. As I sit down and sip the unpleasant liquid, Bria stirs next to me. I am an awful father for letting her sleep here. But what other choice do I have?
I watch the family next to me interact—a wife, a husband, and their two young sons. They look happy. How does anyone accomplish happiness in a hospital?
I can’t sit still. I’m too impatient—I can feel the uncomfortable gurgle of fear working its way up my esophagus, burning me. Immobilizing me. And yet, I can’t sit still. My body’s nervous system is being ravaged by caffeine, and my mind is numb with panic and dread. How do I reconcile the two? Is it even possible?
So I fidget. I stand. I sit again, because there’s nothing else to do.
Where are Cecelia and Frank? They were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. As if my mind somehow summoned them, I hear the hospital entrance open. Cecelia runs in with Frank slowly towing behind her.
She looks alert and perky.
He looks like shit.
“Oh my god, Nick, what happened?” Her panicked voice raises my blood pressure, and I can feel my throat constricting and my blood whooshing in my ears. I can’t even let myself think about the possibilities, so I’m sure as hell not going to talk to Cecelia about it.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’m so sorry. I was driving, and…” I trail off. I hate how indifferent I sound. I know it’s the shock, working its way into my heartless-sounding vocal chords. That’s what the doctor told me. That I was in shock. That I might be in shock for days.
But I care. I feel. I feel it all, in every essence of my being. It might not be showing, but it’s there, just beneath the surface of shock.
“And Bria?”
I gesture to the small figure lying on the waiting room chair. Cecelia rushes over, and I’m left standing there with Frank. He just looks at me. Normally, when he gives me his steely stares, I want to cower and hide anywhere but beneath his gaze.
Not this time.
Because this time, I’m numb. Too much has happened. And I don’t care if he’s never liked me. He doesn’t matter anymore.
“Doctor’s been out?” he asks, his voice gruff.
“Not yet.” My eyes dart to the door instinctively.
I slam my hands into my jeans pockets. I want out of here, out of this mental mindfuck. I want to wake up and have this all be some kind of sick nightmare.