The Sick Wife

by Lost, Loretta

  I am just staring at the two women talking, feeling so happy that they are here. Tears gather in my eyes, and I soak up the beautiful sound of their voices. There was a moment or two when I thought that Mike’s awful voice would be the only thing I heard for the rest of my probably brief life. But here I am now, and here they both are. I think I’ve survived.

  I hear footsteps on the stairs, and I start to panic.

  “Oh my god! Is that Gabe? Shut the door! Shut the door!” I am suddenly sobbing. “Don’t let him see me like this. Please.”

  Veronica jumps up and rushes to the door to shut it and lock it. “Crisis averted.”

  Meanwhile, Evie has come to my side, and is removing the bloody bedsheets, and using them to clean me off. “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “Give me a break,” she responds. “Since you cleaned me up so much when I was in a coma—the least I can do is return the favor.”

  I turn my head to the side and try to conceal my tears. She’s being caring toward me. I thought she hated me.

  “Do you have a clean dress?” Evie asks.

  There is a loud banging noise on the door.

  “Yvette?” Gabe calls out. “Are you in there? Where’s Milla?”

  “Oh god,” I whisper, unable to believe that he is so close. He is so close… and I look like this. Tears leak from my eyes like a faucet, and I feel utterly pathetic.

  “Hold on a fucking minute!” Yvette shouts at her husband. She limps around with her cane, and grabs a hairbrush. She moves over to me and gently, purposefully pulls it through my hair.

  I blink. It’s like my dream—with the comb. Except it’s nothing like that at all. She’s helping me. She’s not leaving me to be trapped forever, doomed to an eternity with my soul stuck in a styling utensil. She’s brushing my hair… and it’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. It’s a moment I’ll always remember, more than the fake-ass Sunday brunch.

  She has become my hero now.

  More than any prince could ever be. Something pings in my memory. I remember that I once cursed at Gabe and defended Evie when she was unwell. She hasn’t forgotten everything good I tried to do. Has she forgiven me for everything bad I did do?

  “Here’s some clothing,” Veronica says, bringing over a yellow dress.

  “That works.”

  The two women work together to lift me and remove my bloody clothing, and put a clean dress and some underwear on me. Evie is not very strong yet, so she nearly drops me—accidentally, I hope. I’m limp like a rag doll. Like a human-sized, unattractive Barbie doll for them to dress up. It’s humiliating and touching at the same time.

  “There we go. Much less of a disaster,” Evie says with a nod.

  “But still a disaster?” I ask her.

  “Of course,” she answers with a scoff. “I’m not a miracle worker. Well, I am, but I would need eyeliner for that.”

  “Just don’t let him in,” I say softly. “Please. Just get the police… let them take evidence or whatever. Get me to a hospital. I don’t want to see Gabriel. Why do you want him to see me anyway?”

  “I mean, shouldn’t you meet him after all this time?” She rolls her eyes. “You guys texted that you loved each other like three million times in two months. I counted. So… you should probably meet him.”

  “I can’t,” I say, turning away. “He told me not to call anymore… not to text. He’s going to want to be there with you, no matter who the father is…”

  “Hey,” Yvette says softly. She moves forward to touch my arm. “Milla. It was an ectopic pregnancy. It’s already gone. Gabe is here to see you. He loves you.”

  “He chose you.”

  “Did he really? Let’s ask him.”

  Evie moves to open the door.

  “No, no—” I tell her. “No! Evie!”

  But then the door swings open, and there he is, and all my fears dissolve. I can only stare, as more tears slide down my already soaked cheeks. It’s the beautiful man from all those video calls.

  All the hours we spent together and the feelings we felt come rushing back in an instant.

  It’s Gabe. My Gabe.

  “You’re here,” I say brokenly. “You’re really here.”

  He moves to my side and kneels. “Milla,” he says simply. He stares at me, touching my face.

  I can’t believe this is real. My lip quivers. “Gabe,” I whisper.

  He presses his forehead against mine, and he’s crying. I’m crying too.

  He kneels at my side like a prince in a story. He’s perfect in every way. Except, you know, he’s a huge fucking asshole for disappearing on me. And he put me through hell. I wish he had never let me go. And he probably could have rescued me a lot sooner. But other than that, he’s completely perfect.

  “Thank god you’re okay,” he says, running his hands over my face, my hair, my neck, my shoulders. Like I’m made of porcelain and he’s checking for cracks. Checking to see if I’m all in one piece.

  “Gabe,” I say again, unable to communicate any better than that. His touch makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.

  He hugs me tightly, pressing his face against my collarbone. I want so badly to hug him back, but my arms won’t budge. I can smell his hair. Oh my god, it’s the best thing in the world. I’m crying even harder now. I can’t believe I can smell his hair.

  He’s really here. He’s really hugging me. I could die of happiness right now.

  “Well, Jesus Christ, this is not how the fairytales go,” Yvette complains. “You can kiss Sleeping Beauty to wake her up, you know?”

  We both look at Evie with surprise.

  She crosses her arms and turns around to face the wall. “I’m not looking. I’ll give you thirty seconds. I’m setting a timer on my watch. Starting… now. 29. 28. 27…”

  “Gabe, kiss me, kiss me,” I say quickly through my tears.

  He laughs. “I’m not going to kiss you with a timer running. I need more than thirty seconds.”

  “But she gave permission! And it’s only 20 seconds now. Kiss me!” I try to lift my head off the bed, but I still can’t.

  “19, 18, 17…”

  “It’s not going to break any spell, silly girl. You’ll still be unable to move.”

  “Gabe!”

  “She’s messing with you,” he explains with a chuckle. He places his hand on the side of my face, and his thumb caresses my cheek. His eyes hold the unspoken promise of many kisses to come. Then he turns to look at his wife’s back. “Evie, stop that. Hasn’t she been enough for today?”

  “Fine, fine,” Yvette says, turning around with annoyance. “I was joking, Mills. You can have him for keeps. Don’t act like I’m doing you any favors. He’s terrible in bed anyway, you’ll see.”

  “I am not,” Gabe says with a sigh.

  “If he likes his women awake, that’s already an improvement for me,” I say weakly.

  “He’s a pretty good husband, I’ll rate him a 6/10 on Yelp, satisfactory service,” Yvette says with a nod. “But for real, Gabe. Be better to her than you were to me. I guess I was the trial run. The practice session. Your welcome, Mills. You two better name your firstborn kid after me. Isn’t that how it works in fairytales?”

  “No,” Veronica interjects. “Usually the firstborn child gets taken by the bad guy. Rumpelstiltskin.”

  “Well, that’s dark,” Evie says.

  “I can’t name my firstborn after you,” I explain to Evie. “Gabe and I already decided on naming them after the seven days of the week. So we have to start with Sunday. Maybe if we have an 8th kid, we can name it Evie.”

  “That’s cute,” Veronica says. “But Evie just sounds like a Pokemon. If you’re going to do that, you should name your children after Eevee and all the evolutions. Flareon, Vaporeon, Jolteon... and a lot of others. My daughter is obsessed.”

  “Oh, that’s so adorable,” I say with a smile. I’m so happy I’ll get to see her little girl again.

  “I hav
e no idea what these words are,” Gabe complains. “Is it English?”

  We all laugh.

  “You’re too old,” Evie tells him. “But naming children after Pokémon is a fun idea.”

  “It looks like the police are finally here,” Veronica informs us from the window. “By the way… what did you do to Mike?”

  “He’s incapacitated,” Gabe answers with a smile. “I wouldn’t worry about him hurting anyone. Not anytime soon.”

  Chapter 45

  Gabriel is here, in my apartment, in my bed, in my arms.

  I can’t describe the feeling to you. It’s really all I ever needed in life.

  After I got out of the hospital, as soon as I could move my arms again, I wrapped them around him and haven’t really been able to let go. But it’s okay, because he hasn’t let go either.

  “I can’t believe you’re really here,” I say for the tenth time this hour.

  “Me too. Milla, I’ve loved you since the first moment you told me to shut the fuck up.”

  “You really should be told to shut the fuck up more often,” I joke.

  Gabe nuzzles his chin against my hair. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t be together sooner.”

  “You should be. You were supposed to stop my wedding. You jerk!”

  “Yeah? Well, you weren’t supposed to go and get married to someone else two seconds after we broke up.” He sounds rather grumpy about this.

  “You dumped me, what was I supposed to do?”

  “A rapist got my wife knocked up when she was in a coma, what was I supposed to do?”

  I sigh. “Okay. Fair enough. Can you just hold me.”

  “Yes, of course.” He squeezes me tighter and kisses my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Milla. I nearly stopped the wedding. I swear to you.”

  “I only got married to try to piss you off,” I whisper. “Get a reaction out of you.”

  “It worked. I nearly broke down those church doors.”

  I sigh happily. “Then I would do it all again… if it leads to you being here with me now. Nothing else matters.”

  “Okay, that’s all very romantic,” he says, rubbing his hand over my back. “But we figured it out from the ultrasound timing. We could have just used DNA to prove what Mike did. So you didn’t have to put yourself in danger like that, just to get us another testimony against him. You put us both through more hell.”

  “Gabe, I was just sad and lonely without you. And when my father died…”

  “When did your father die?” he asks.

  “When I couldn’t call you,” I answer with annoyance. Maybe I’ll spare him the details of my breakdown in the graveyard, for now. “Mike just seemed like a solution. I actually wanted to try and make it work with him. You know, until it became clear he preferred me paralyzed.”

  “I hate it when that happens,” Gabe says jokingly.

  “You have the worst sense of humor.”

  “So do you,” he answers, kissing my nose.

  “Mmm,” I say happily. “Then we’re a good fit.”

  “Did I tell you about the new book that I’ve started writing?” Gabe asks me, as I’m drifting off to sleep in his arms.

  “No, what is it?” I ask, yawning. After all the sedation I’ve been under, you would think that I would never want to sleep again.

  “DON’T JUST LIE THERE—a true story of my wife and the necrophiliac.”

  I try to restrain it, but I can’t. I burst into laughter so hard that it shakes my whole body. “Gabe, you are insane. That is the most ridiculous title I’ve ever heard of.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It needs work. A lot of work. All your book titles are terrible,” I inform him. “For starters, shouldn’t it be ‘wives,’ plural? I mean, if you think we’ll be married by the time of publication.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I don’t see my ring on your finger,” he points out. “Are we still engaged?”

  “I flushed it down the toilet,” I tell him.

  “You did?”

  “No, of course not, silly. It’s over there, but I’m too comfortable to move. But just in case it wasn’t clear before… Gabriel Delacroix, will you marry me?”

  “I hope so,” he says, kissing my lips. “But we both probably need to get divorced first.”

  “Good point,” I tell him with a smile. “You shouldn’t accept a proposal from a married woman. You should know better.”

  “Well, I just beat your husband within an inch of his life, and felt the satisfying crack of his spine under my fist—so I think this is a safe proposal to accept.”

  “Thank you for defending my honor,” I tell him happily.

  “Always, sweetie.”

  Epilogue

  Milla

  We’re in court for Mike’s trial.

  My belly is large with Sunday and Monday Delacroix.

  Gabe has scheduled his book release to be well-timed with the trial, so there has been tons of press swarming us to try and get more information about the weird and twisted crimes that were committed.

  Yvette has testified, and I have testified, and it has been exhausting. All the publicity shoving our worst personal moments into the spotlight is definitely not helping.

  We are on a recess right now while the jury decides on the verdict, but I almost don’t want to stick around to hear it. We did what needed to be done. We came here and dug up the past and said everything we needed to say about what he did. It was painful, but necessary.

  And now it’s over.

  I am sure that justice will be served, and even if the sentence isn’t as harsh as we hope—I don’t want to worry about it. I just want to be happy now. I’m somewhat annoyed at Gabriel for capitalizing on this whole situation to write and launch a bestselling book, but I guess that’s just what writers do. Besides, if he didn’t write the story, someone else would have.

  I guess we’re going to need the money from his success to raise seven kids. It’s a pretty good book, anyway. He actually wrote a brilliant exploration of the mind of a necrophiliac, and it was sensitive and insightful. It’s mainly all the press that’s been hell to deal with.

  But some publishers have actually offered me a book deal to write about my experience with Michael and our brief marriage, so I’m considering giving it a try. Later on. For now… I just want to relax, put my swollen feet up, and get something to eat.

  Yvette walks to my side,

  “Milla,” she says softly. “Can you believe it’s over?”

  “I can’t believe any of this,” I tell her. “Look at how far we’ve come, since the beginning.”

  She shakes her head in amazement. “You know, I realized I never actually apologized for the things I said to you on the phone that day? About your pictures—that you looked like a cow. And everything else. I was a mess back then. A total disaster.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to fall in love with Gabriel… and become a husband-stealing bitch.”

  “Nah, we’re all good,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “You did me a huge favor, and I’m way happier now with Lukas. He was so supportive and encouraging when he taught me to walk again… he really pushed me, but in a kind way. He’s younger and sweeter than Gabe—way less frustrating. I finally have a man who can actually keep up with me.”

  I glance over at the handsome, muscular man who used to be her physical therapist, and I smile. “You didn’t do too badly. How old is he, like twenty-two? Craddle-robber.”

  “Twenty-eight,” Yvette answers.

  “Wow! Basically no wrinkles compared to Gabe,” I comment, although I love every single one of Gabe’s wrinkles. “He’s definitely an upgrade in a lot of ways.”

  “No kidding,” Evie says with a smile. “I was just clinging to Gabe so hard because I was sick, and he was my comfort. But I wasn’t thinking clearly, and it was wrong of me to use my sickness to force him to get back together with me. You two are really good together.”
>
  “I mean… he’s super annoying sometimes, but I still like him a little bit,” I tell Evie.

  “Honestly, though,” Yvette says. “It took me so long to stop walking with that cane. If you didn’t extubate me when you did, Milla… I hate to think what my health would be like. I mean, if I had been under any longer—or if I had never gotten off the fucking ventilator. God.”

  I shake my head. “Actually, Evie, you saved me—if it wasn’t for your ultrasound, I am sure I would be dead right now. Besides, I didn’t suffer too much. I was only drugged by him for a few days… I can’t imagine what you experienced being like that for forty-seven days.”

  “Well… at least I didn’t have the horrible experience of being married to him. I mean… he had you in his bedroom all day and night. At least with me, it was in a public place where he could only sneak to see me sometimes…”

  “Yes, but I chose to be married to him,” I say softly. “You didn’t choose anything that happened to you.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she says. “You didn’t know. Anyway… I know you spent so much time with me, when I was under. Giving me beauty treatments, pedicures, and other stupid shit—you probably protected me from many more private visits from the creepy doctor.”

  I shudder at the thought. “Yes… he did come into the room a few times when I was there. I am so sorry. I should have figured it out sooner. I never in a million years could have suspected…”

  “Milla. Stop blaming yourself for everything,” she says again.

  “I just wish I could have prevented what happened to you. Or stopped it weeks before…”

  “You couldn’t have known,” she says. “I was there, too. I didn’t even know.”

  Her hand touches mine. She wraps her fingers around my palm. She squeezes it.

  It feels like forgiveness. For everything. Tears gather in my eyes. But I’m not that weak, emotional little girl that I used to be. I’m a badass survivor, and mom-to-be of adorable twins, and I’m not going to let her see me cry to have her friendship.

  “So,” I say casually. “Let’s talk about your new man. He’s so cute. He really knows how to grow a beard. Are you willing to share him?”