by Leisa Rayven
He frowns then says, “They think she passed out because of low blood sugar. When she fell ... I couldn’t get to her in time.” He looks at me like what he’s about to say will push me over the edge. “Her head smashed into the pavement. Her brain is so swollen that ...” Guilt etches into his expression. “Eden, she’s in a coma. When I left they were taking her for a CT and an MRI.”
She’s in a coma.
I try to process that and can’t. My Nan is a dynamo. A seventy-five-year-old force of nature. She can’t be in a coma. It’s not possible.
“She fainted because of low blood sugar?”
“They think so, yes.”
She hadn’t had her morning coffee with three sugars. I didn’t bring her breakfast. If it weren’t for me snooping around in Max’s warehouse instead of being there for her, none of this would have happened. We’d be in her booth, selling second-hand stuff to hipsters for stupidly inflated prices.
The guilt twists through me, adding another layer to my increasing anxiety.
“Eden?”
When I open my eyes, Max looks at me like he’s afraid I’ll crumble into an emotional heap. He doesn’t understand how long and hard I’ve fought to train myself for these kinds of situations. Father who didn’t love me. Mother who died. Nan who ...
I close my eyes and make myself see the boat in the storm. I become the girl on the deck and sigh in relief as I dive into the dark, muffled waters.
When I open my eyes, I can breathe again. “When can I see her?”
Max seems taken aback by my sudden calm. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Do you need anything? A coffee? Something to eat?” I shake my head. “Have you called Asha? Would you like me to?” I shake my head again. “So, you’ve called her?”
His constant questions are irritating me. “It will ruin her trip.”
“You know your sister better than I do, but if I were her ...” His voice is quiet, but I hear the judgement in it, loud and clear.
I don’t want him here hovering and judging and making me weak. I’d rather deal with this alone. It’s what I’m used to.
“Everything’s fine, Max. Thanks for coming.” I try to be warm and dismissive at the same time, but I think I just end up being the second thing. Still, it has the desired effect because he steps back.
“Yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll get out of your hair. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
He pushes through the doors leading into the emergency area, and a ball of lead falls into my stomach as I watch him go.
I don’t need him, I repeat to myself, over and over again. There’s only room beneath this boat for one person, and that’s me.
I don’t need him.
* * *
It’s three hours later when I’m shown into a room in the ICU to see Nan for the first time. I clench my jaw against the sight of her in a huge bed, tubes poking out of her mouth, nose, and arms, surrounded by machines. She’s always been my superwoman role model. If I did nothing else in my life but grow up to be like her, I could die a happy woman. But seeing her now, so pale, and small, and ... broken, my only wish is to be in that bed instead of her.
“She’s stable for now,” the doctor says in hushed tones, “and we’ve relieved the pressure on her brain, so now we just have to be patient.”
“How long will she remain in a coma?”
“I don’t know. Everyone heals at their own pace. Even if she wakes up, there may be some issues related to possible brain damage. Impaired speech, memory loss, partial paralysis. We just don’t know for sure yet.”
“When she wakes.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said if she wakes. But you meant when, right?”
He gives me a reassuring smile. “Of course. From what you’ve told me, she’s a strong woman. If anyone can get through this, she can.” Then he gives my arm a squeeze and leaves me there, staring at Nan and feeling more and more useless by the second.
A nurse is taking readings from machines and writing stuff down. She looks over at me and gestures for me to come closer.
“You can sit with her,” she says, indicating the chair near the window. “It helps if you talk to her.”
I sleepwalk to the chair and sink into it. “What do I talk about?”
“Anything. Tell her about your day. The doctors believe that talking to coma patients helps them wake up.”
She finishes up what she’s doing and gives me a smile before she leaves. Then it’s just me and Nan, and the scraping and beeping of the machines around us.
Okay. I’ll just talk like she’s not lying there half-dead.
“Hey, Nan.” My voice is tight. I try to swallow, but I have zero saliva, so my tongue feels three sizes too big for my mouth. “How’s it going?”
I didn’t think I’d ever miss Nan’s incessant chatter, but right now I’d give anything to hear her say just one word.
I try again, while attempting to keep my tone light. “You know, I’ve never really thought of you as a tubes and machines kind of girl, but I have to say, you pull it off. I take issue with the dowdy gown, but otherwise, you’re really rocking the hospital chic.”
In my mind she agrees with me, and that makes me smile. But it’s one of those smiles that you know is fragile, like a mask, and it’s just one half-breath away from splintering in two.
“So, listen ... I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but ... I love you.” I stroke her hand over and over again. “You make the world a better place, so just ... stay ... okay? Stay with me.”
My throat tightens, but I refuse to cry. “The nurse said it would be helpful for me to talk to you, so I will. I’ll talk until I lose my voice. Here goes.” I take a deep breath. “I found this website the other day for beekeepers called ‘To Bee or not to Bee’, which is all kinds of adorable, but I didn’t get around to telling you about it.” I grab my phone and bring it up in the browser. “But we have plenty of time now, so just lie back and relax, and I’ll tell you what they have to say.” I clear my throat. “To bee, or not to bee, that is the question ...”
* * *
When I open my eyes, I see a large red-headed male nurse taking Nan’s vitals. I blink and cough to get the dryness out of my throat. “Morning.”
He smiles. “Hey.”
I look down at myself, bent out of shape in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. I’m wrapped in a blanket, which is weird, because I didn’t go to sleep with one.
The nurse checks the saline drip then mutters, “Be right back,” before leaving the room.
“Morning, Nan,” I say, as I stretch up and wince when my back cracks. “Did you see how hard that nurse was flirting with me? Shameless. Then again, he is pretty cute. Maybe I’ll throw over that Max guy for him. I mean, he won’t earn as much, but with his red hair and my fiery locks? We could make the ultimate ginger child. Can you imagine? The kid would be unstoppable. Sure, he’d survive by feeding on the souls of his enemies and burst into flames in full sunlight, but still. Super Ginger!”
The nurse comes back in and hands me a leather duffle bag. Max’s duffle bag. I look at it in confusion.
“Your brother left this for you.”
“My ... brother. Right.”
He goes to Nan’s drip and swaps out the saline bag. “He’s hot. And sweet. I practically swooned when he came in with a blanket and tucked you in. Not enough men like him around. Is he single?”
Well, there goes my super-baby idea.
Then the gears in my brain start to grind, and I shake my head to understand what he just said. “Wait, Max gave me this blanket?”
“Yeah. Sat and talked with your gran while you were asleep, too.” He finishes up with the drip and scribbles something on Nan’s chart. “What I wouldn’t give for my brother to be more like him.”
I lean down and open the bag. On the top of a pile of my clothes is a handwritten note.
Hey, Eden.
I hope you’re doing okay.
I thought
you might like a change of clothes and some toiletries, considering you’ll want to stay with your Nan. I hope you don’t mind that I conned the super of you building into letting into your apartment. In case he says anything, the FBI agent apologized for thinking you owned bomb-making equipment and were a threat to national security. If he gives you any trouble, let me know. Agent Richards can always make a return visit to set him straight.
I hope Nannabeth is doing better today.
Please let me know if you need anything. I’m just a phone call away.
Max x
“You okay?”
I look up to see the nurse staring at me.
“Uh ... yeah, I’m fine.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “Miss your brother, huh?”
I nod and pack the note away. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
* * *
For three days I live at the hospital. I get used to washing up in the public bathroom, grabbing takeout food from the cafeteria, and sleeping in the cot they set up for me. I talk to Nan all day long about anything and everything that comes to mind. I make up stories about amazing men I’m going to date and have children with, because really, if anything’s going to call her back from the great beyond, it will be the prospect of me finally ending my filthy single-lady ways and settling down.
Toby has been running interference for me at work, but even so, I knew I couldn’t avoid Derek forever. When my phone lights up with his number on the afternoon of the third day, I sigh and answer it.
“Hey, Derek.”
“Eden. Hi.” His voice is strange. Soft. Not pissed off. And he used my first name.
Oh, God, is he firing me?
“Look,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I know my partial draft was due yesterday, but I have a lot going on right now, so if you could –”
“Eden, it’s fine. I’m not calling to harass you.”
“You’re not?” Now I’m more confused than worried.
“Toby used every excuse in the book to explain where you’ve been for the past few days, but he finally spilled the beans about your grandmother. I just wanted to call and send you some good thought. I lost my gran two years ago, so I sympathize with what you’re going through. I really hope she pulls through.”
That was the last thing I expected from him. I slump back into my chair. “Thanks, Derek. That means a lot.”
“This doesn’t mean I’m giving you a free pass on the story, mind you. But it does mean you can have some extra time. Where are you with your research?”
“I have everything I need. I just have to write it. And to be honest, right now, I can’t think about much except being with my Nan.”
I hear rustling papers in the background. “I get it. I’m heading off to Europe tomorrow to meet some possible investors for Pulse, so you can have until I get back to finish up.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Two weeks. Can you get it done?”
“I think so.”
“Good.” There’s a pause, and then he clears his throat. “Okay, so it’s weird speaking to you for this long without yelling, so I’m gonna go.”
I laugh. “Thanks for calling, Derek. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, sure. Take care of yourself. And as soon as you can face it, get writing.”
“I will.”
We sign off, and I sigh. I never thought I’d see the day Derek would act like a regular person with human feelings, but I guess in times of crisis, people can surprise you.
I look over at Nan and take her hand. “See, Nan? Everyone’s on your side, even my asshole boss. That’s got to count for something, right?”
I stroke her skin and yawn as the sun kisses the tops of the buildings outside the window. I’m trying to stay positive, but it’s hard. Telling myself she’s going to be okay is one thing. Believing it is another.
“Ash called today. She was so excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell her about you. I know you’d approve, because you’d hate it if she gave up this opportunity and got on the first plane home. Besides, what can she do? The position of chief hand holder and chatterbox is filled. She’d have no purpose.”
I stroke her paper-thin skin and trace my fingertip over her tiny blue veins. “But of course if you wake up, I can call her and say you’ve had an accident but that you’re fine, which would work out well for everyone. So, just ... wake up, okay?” I look over at her and will her to move. “You don’t have to do anything major. Just open your eyes. Or squeeze my hand. You could squeeze my hand. That would be fine.”
I stop talking, because I get that pain in my throat that tells me I’m about to lose control. So instead, I press my forehead against her wrist. In this position I can feel her pulse, and I have to believe that as long as her heart’s beating, there’s a chance she’ll make it through.
When I hear footsteps come into the room, I figure it’s just one of the battalion of nurses that checks on Nan every half hour. I flinch when a warm hand cups my shoulder.
“Eden, come on. You need to rest. Let me take you home.”
I shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. All week, my ‘brother’ has been leaving care packages for me. He’s very popular with the nurses. Of course he is. All the ladies fall for Mister Romance, whether they want to or not.
When I raise my head, he strokes my back. “Hey, there.”
“Hey.” I’m so tired, my voice breaks.
“Wow,” he says, pushing hair away from my face. “I didn’t think it was possible, but ... you look like crap. Very beautiful crap, but still ...”
I let out a hoarse laugh. “Awww. You really are the sweetest man I know.”
Without waiting for my permission, he grabs my phone and purse and pulls me to my feet. “Come on. You’re exhausted.”
“Max, I can’t leave.”
“You can and you will. The nurses have told me they’ll call the second Nan’s condition changes. But tonight, you’re going to eat, shower, and sleep in a nice, warm bed, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“But she needs someone to talk to her.”
He stops and faces me then says, “I have that covered. Our wonderful cousin Dyson is going to stay here tonight and read to her.”
Dyson, AKA Pat, walks in carrying a collection of books. “Hey, Cousin Eden.” He squeezes my arm. “I’m so sorry about Nan. But don’t worry, I took a course in audiobook narration. I got this. Tonight, we’re going to crack open Pride and Prejudice. I do a killer Mr. Darcy. ”
Max waits for my reaction. I sigh and nod. “Okay. But I’m coming back first thing in the morning.”
Max leads me down the hallway and toward the exit, his arm around my waist. It’s so comforting, I feel like I’m already asleep and wrapped in a warm, tall, good-looking dream.
When we get in the elevator, I turn to him. “Can you take me to Nan’s instead of my place?”
“Sure. Why?”
“There are a few things I have to do.”
NINETEEN
Fragile Strength
Max wanders around Nan’s apartment, seeming contemporary and out of place among her vintage chintz and clutter.
“You were a cute kid,” he says as he picks up an old family photo.
I grab some of Nan’s stuff and put it in an overnight bag. “Well, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” I take the engagement photo of her and grandad, the clock she’s kept by her bed for fifty years, and the throw pillow she embroidered with a noble portrait of Moby Duck.
Speaking of Moby, the neighbors have been feeding him since the accident, but I think the poor thing is missing Nan, because from the moment I set foot inside the door, he’s followed my every step. When I grab some of Nan’s favorite lavender moisturizer from the bathroom cabinet, he perches on the closed toilet seat and quacks at me.
“It’s okay, Moby. She’ll be home soon.” He quacks again, and when I look at him, I realize I’ve never seen a duck look sad until this moment. “Aw, buddy
. Come on. It’s okay.” I smear some of the fragrant cream on my arms and pick him up. He snuggles into me and the familiar scent, and I stroke his feathers. “She’s going to be okay, Moby. I promise.”
I hear a noise in the hallway and turn to see Max watching us, looking way too large for the small space. “Everything okay?”
“I think he’s fretting. He’s not used to being without her for so long.”
He walks over and gently pats the duck. “I can come and ... uh ... duck sit ... while you’re at the hospital, if that will help. I mean, I’m pretty good with dogs and cats. How different can it be for a duck, right?”
The emotional lump in my throat from earlier doubles in size, and I’m not even a little equipped to deal with him and his caring ways right now.
“I’m going to take him up to the roof.” I squeeze past Max and head for the door. “His pond is up there, and he likes swimming.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“If you want. But you’re too big for the pond. Plus, Moby doesn’t like to share.”
I hug Moby to my chest as I lead Max up the back stairs to the roof. Moby quacks as soon as he sees his pond, which is really just a kiddy pool Nan fancied up with fiberglass boulders and potted palms to seem more organic. As soon as I put Moby in the water, he flaps his wings and splashes around. When he’s settled and happy, I grab the hose Nan has jerry-rigged to the rainwater tank up here and water her vegetables and herbs.
Max doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s impressed with Nan’s setup. He bends over one of the garden beds and pulls out some tiny weeds.
“Your Nan’s quite amazing, isn’t she?”
I nod and walk the hose over to the pool to raise the water level. “Yeah. She is.”
“It’s clear you take after her.” He walks over and stands beside me, and we both watch Moby as he swims in circles. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be, you know. Most people in your situation would be struggling. There’s no shame in that.”
“I’m not ashamed.”
