by Beth Michele
“I know.”
***
My eyes open to a new day. Life. The life where there are no guarantees. The life where every moment counts, because you never know when there will be no more moments. My only hope is that I haven’t destroyed my chances with Brad. I think about him every minute. All the times he made me smile. All the times he made me laugh. All the times he held my hand. All the times he held my heart. I haven’t been the same since I walked out on him sixteen days ago. Sixteen days, yet it feels like a lifetime. I can’t get him out of my mind or my heart.
I grab my phone and dial Brad’s number. It’s ringing and my hands are shaking.
“Gabby?” Brad answers, surprised. The sound of his voice nearly makes me crumble.
“Hi,” I say in a small voice. “Thank you for the beautiful flowers, and the coffee, and the letter.”
I hear him breathe deeply. “Do you have any fucking idea how much I miss you? I can’t see straight. Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
My voice raises an octave. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Seriously?” I hear the nervous excitement in his voice.
“Seriously. The cape clinched it,” I say, with a huge smile he can’t see. “Can you meet me somewhere tonight?”
The excitement in Brad’s voice is palpable. “Anywhere, baby.”
“Top of the Rock, say seven o’clock?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there. And Gabby?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so glad you called.”
I hear his happiness, and I can feel it too. “Me, too.”
I hang up the phone and walk over to my dresser. Standing in front of the drawer, I pause and take a deep breath. I reach out and pull the handle with trembling hands. Lifting up the pictures, my fingers dig further until I feel it. I pull out the burgundy velvet box and just stare at it before my fingers shakily open the lid. It still shines just as brilliantly as when Clark first put it on my finger. Holding it close to my heart, I go to my closet and stand on my tippy toes to pull my keepsake box off the top shelf. I place it on the bed and sit down, open the shiny gold latch, and run my fingers over my butterfly shirt, my day of the week undies, but most especially the pictures of Clark and me. My favorite picture of us is here, the one at the beach during sunset. I hug it close to my chest for several minutes, right against my heart, then let out a sigh before I put it back in its special place. The velvet of the ring box makes its way to my cheek, and I hold it there as tears fill my eyes. “I love you, Clark. I always will,” I whisper. I place it inside the keepsake box, tuck it away in my closet, and walk away, smiling.
I may as well have called in sick today. Thank goodness it’s Friday and Robby has left an alarmingly small number of sticky notes. But I can’t think of anything except Brad all day. I’m going to tell him that I love him and we can finally be together. I can’t wait to see him and wrap my arms around him. I’m never letting him go, ever.
Most of my day is spent flicking a pencil against my desk and watching the clock tick slowly by. I manage to answer twelve of twenty five voicemails and make a couple of baskets with Robby’s completed sticky notes, which helps pass the time, too. My heart is vibrating loudly and my stomach is doing belly flops. I love Brad and I can’t wait to tell him. I smile at the fragrant garden my cubicle has become. This is it.
At 6:30, I clean up my desk, gather up my jacket, grab my purse and the single red rose I bought for Brad, and make my way over to Rockefeller Center. Even the supreme nastiness of the subway doesn’t bother me tonight, nor the fact that my foot has been stepped on twice, nor that I just sat on a piece of gum.
Clark’s words suddenly come back to me…let yourself feel, let yourself love, be happy.
I will, Clark; I promise.
I don’t see Brad when I get there, so I take a minute to try and compose myself. The delicate petals of the rose are shaking, but steadying my hands is an impossible task. My heart is racing. I can’t wait to see Brad. Taking a deep breath of the night air to settle my nerves, I marvel again at how magnificent the city looks from up here, my mind drifting back to the perfection of our first date.
Looking down at my watch, I notice it’s 7:15. It’s not like him to be late. My feet are pacing the platform, rose petals blowing in the cool breeze. Tick tock. Another few minutes go by and I pull out my phone. Brad’s phone rings and rings, then finally goes into voicemail. Texting him doesn’t elicit a response either. What the hell? Has he changed his mind? No, he hasn’t. I trust him. I trust the way he feels about me.
Another half hour goes by. I’m cold, and it’s not from the temperature. Four voicemails and four texts with no response. Something’s wrong. My body feels prickly, and not in a good way. Worry is beginning to consume me. I can’t stay here. Willing my legs to move, I head for the subway and make my way to The Brew House, only to find the “Closed” sign on the door. Damnit, where are you Brad? I continue to call him, but he doesn’t answer, and tears are threatening. I run to the subway. My feet are having a hard time catching up to my mind. I need to get home. I need Fran.
Tears are crashing down my face and I push open the door with more force than I’d intended. Fran sees the look in my eyes. “What is it, Gabby? What’s wrong?!”
“I called Brad and told him I wanted to see him. But he didn’t show up.”
“What do you mean? Why didn’t he show up?”
My breathing is erratic. “I don’t…know. We were…supposed to meet…and…I…can’t reach him. Something’s wrong, Fran, I just know it. I’ve called…him…several times and sent him texts, but he hasn’t responded. I don’t…know…who to call.”
“You need to try and calm down, sweetie. Maybe he had to stay at the shop a bit longer.”
I’m screaming now. “No, Fran! I went by there! He isn’t there! He would have called me!” Falling to my knees, my cheeks course with salty tears as soft whimpers leave my mouth. “I’ve finally found the person I’m meant to be with and I can’t freaking find him.” I’ve got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Fran runs over and folds her arms around me. I let go, sobs pouring out from every crevice of my body.
Fran calls the police. Apparently you can’t file a missing person’s report for twenty-four hours. That’s such bullshit.
The last time I looked at the clock it was 6:00am. Somewhere between sobbing uncontrollably and waiting, we fall asleep. When I open my eyes, Fran is hunched up beside me. My eyes are sore and I can barely see through the slits. Squinting, I peer over at the digital clock and think it reads 3:00pm. Oh my God, we slept the whole day. Recognition of last night washes over me and I frantically grab my phone off the coffee table. Dialing Brad’s number, I’m silently willing him to answer. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up. The moment I hear his voicemail, I fall apart. Slumping down to the soiled carpet, my face dampens from a fresh batch of tears. I recognize this feeling. Something’s happened to him. Deep down I know it’s true, even though I’m praying like hell it’s not.
My phone buzzes and with shaky hands I knock it over. I nab it quickly, and when I see it’s Brad, relief envelopes my whole body.
“Gabby?” The voice doesn’t belong to Brad.
“Who is this?”
“Gabby, this is Brad’s brother, Matt.” No, please no.
“Where’s Brad. Is he okay?”
“Something’s happened, Gabby.”
I fall to the ground, and my next words are but a whisper. “Is he alive?”
“Yes, but he’s pretty badly hurt.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s at New York Presbyterian. He’s in the Intensive Care Unit.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up and drop to my knees. It’s happening all over again. I have to get to him. Tears are streaming down my cheeks and they won’t stop. Silently, I offer up healing prayers. Please be okay, Brad. Please be okay. You have to be okay. I love you.
Pushing on
Fran’s shoulder, I jolt her awake. “Fran, it’s Brad.”
Only tears break the silence.
Fran and I run through the hospital doors like freaking lunatics. Out of breath, I try and get the words out to one of the three people sitting behind the desk. “Where…is…the Intensive Care Unit?”
A nurse with soft hazel eyes and a sweet wrinkled face replies, “it’s on the third floor, dear.”
“Thank you.” Fran leads me by the hand to the elevators. She says nothing, but continues to hold my hand.
The elevator pings open and we see the sign pointing to the Intensive Care Unit. Sprinting down the hall, we finally make it to the nurse’s station. “I’m looking for Brad Dixon.”
“He’s unconscious, and we’re letting in very few visitors at this point. Are you family?”
I’m about to say something, when a deep voice calls out. “That’s his wife.”
Fran and I whip our heads around to the sound. Matt. It couldn’t be more obvious. Except for darker hair and a slight variation in height, they’re identical. Matt doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me into a hug and my tears start anew.
Once I’m calm, I look over at Fran. “Matt, this is my best friend, Fran. Fran this is Brad’s brother, Matt.”
Fran can’t help herself. She does her once over before she speaks. “Nice to meet you, Matt.”
Matt gives Fran a second look. It’s hard not to. “You, too,” he says.
Fran looks over at me with kind eyes. “I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me, sweetie, okay?”
“Thanks, Fran.”
Matt leads me through the glass double doors. The moment I see Brad, my legs give out. His eyes are closed and he’s laying on the bed with a bandage wrapped around his head. There are all sorts of tubes protruding from his body. His face is swollen and bruises cover his shoulders and arms. I can’t move. Brad. My whole body feels cold, and an ill feeling washes over me as I look at him, helpless and bruised. Teardrops hit the floor and I feel like I can hear them.
Matt raises me off the floor and helps me to a chair. My body is shaking. “I’m so sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances, Gabby.”
I’m gasping for a breath. “Is he going to be okay? Tell me what happened.”
“I got a call around 9 last night, your time. Apparently, after Brad closed the shop, he was jumped from behind. They took his wallet and beat him up pretty badly. He has some bleeding to his brain, which is why he’s unconscious.”
Jesus. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t called him to meet me, this would never have happened. “But he’s going to wake up, right?” I ask with a jittery voice.
“Gabby, the doctors can’t say for sure. He was hit pretty hard on the head several times with some sort of blunt instrument.” Matt chokes up a little at that and I can’t help but feel sorry for the guy. His mom, his sister, and now his brother?
My hands are quivering uncontrollably and my head falls into my lap. Matt strokes my hair with his fingers. He’s kind, just like his brother.
I just want to be near Brad. Moving my chair next to the bed, I grab hold of his hand. It feels heavy and limp. Laying my cheek against his arm, I silently offer up more prayers. Please, God, let him wake up. Please let him wake up. He has to wake up. Don’t do this to me again. Matt comes and sits by my side, his arm draped around my shoulder. I have no words right now, and don’t feel like talking, unless it’s to Brad.
After a few moments, Matt makes his way down to the cafeteria so I can have some time with Brad. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I talk to him anyway. I tell him how worried I am, but mostly how much I miss hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, feeling his touch. “I love you, Brad,” I say, resting my head on his limp arm.
Matt taps me on the shoulder, as I must have dozed off. I have no concept of time. He suggests I go home and get some rest, but I’m not going anywhere. Not without Brad. I’ve already let Robby know I need some time off. Work is the least of my concerns right now.
I’m so thankful Matt’s here. Being near someone that Brad is close to makes me feel nearer to him. With his mom and sister gone, and his dad nonexistent, Matt is all he really has. Wait, that’s not true anymore. Now he has me. I just need him to wake up so I can tell him. Tears are forcing their way to the surface again. Why won’t he wake up?
I run my fingers gently across Brad’s cheek. It’s so swollen. Tears I’d been holding in fall down my cheeks.
Matt goes over to his bag and pulls something out. “Gabby, this was with Brad’s things when they brought him in. It has your name on it.”
I reach out with trembling hands and take the note. Opening the folded paper, I attempt to read the words through a blur of tears.
Dear Gabby,
From the moment I first saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You took my breath away. Your beauty captivated me, yes, but it was something more. Something about you grabbed hold of me and I didn’t want to let go. When you looked up at me and your eyes met mine, it was as if they spoke to me. They told me you needed me. They told me to look inside and come find you, so I did.
As time went on, I found myself wanting to make you smile, wanting to feel your warmth, wanting to hold your hand, wanting to steal your heart. You awakened me. I was unfulfilled. I was lost. But somehow, when you walked into my shop that day, with your quiet confidence and your beautiful smile, you found me. And I found the one person who makes me feel alive. But mostly, I found the woman I’ve fallen in love with. The woman who makes me feel more emotion than I ever thought possible, so much that I sometimes feel as though my heart might float away and carry me along with it. And I’m willing to go, as long as it’s with you.
He’s in love with me. I lay my hand on his and stroke it gently, whispering, “I love you too, Brad. I love you. I love you.”
A nurse walks in the room. “I need to make him a bit more comfortable so I’d like you to step out.” I’m about to give her my best right hook when she says, “don’t worry, you can come back in soon.” She smiles and I feel okay leaving Brad with her, if only for a few minutes.
Walking out to the waiting room, I find Fran and Kyle sitting together, holding hands. Kyle’s genuine eyes reach me and he walks over and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry, Gabby. Brad’s strong, though, and he’s gonna be okay.”
“Thanks, Kyle. I appreciate you being here, and Brad would, too.” We all find a place to sit and Fran sits next to me and rubs my back with her gentle hands while I sob quietly. It’s so soothing. She finally pushes away and looks at my face. “Sweetie, you look like absolute shit.”
I make a futile attempt at a smile.
“What are the doctors saying?” She asks tenderly.
“He’s got bleeding in his brain. We just have to wait and see. They can’t make any promises. He was struck on the head pretty hard, so they won’t know anything until he wakes up” Then I take a deep breath. “If he wakes up.”
She pats my hand and forces a smile. “Gabby. You have to keep the faith. He’s going to wake up. He has to.”
“God, Fran, he can’t die. He just can’t. It’s like Clark all over again.”
Fran’s face grows serious. “NO it’s not, Gabby. He’s not Clark. Brad’s going to be okay.”
What would I ever do without Fran?
She looks at me, anger consuming her face. “Did they at least get the assholes who did this to him?”
I hang my head. “No, they got away, and there were no witnesses.”
“Fuck,” she says, gritting her teeth. Kyle keeps his hand in hers, steadying her.
I don’t care about anything else as long as Brad wakes up. “I just want him to wake up, Fran.”
Fran looks at me with hopeful eyes. “I know, sweetie, I know.”
Taking the letter out of my bag, I hand it to Fran.
“What’s this?” she asks.
I can’t bear to look at it again, it hurts too much. “Just read it.”
F
ran takes a minute to read the note. Her eyes go wide and she puts her head on my shoulder. “Jesus, Gabby, he’s so fucking poetic. And he’s head over heels in love with you.”
A tear drips slowly down my cheek. “And I with him.”
We sit quietly for a few minutes. Kyle pipes up. “Gabby, you’re really pale. I’m going to run down to the cafeteria to get you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry, Kyle,” I protest.
“You have to eat, Gabby,” he says with forceful concern.
“Kyle’s right. You have to keep your strength up.” Fran puts her hand on his back.
I feel myself getting worked up, and I’m starting to bite my nails. I never bite my nails. “Fran, where’s Matt? Maybe he’s trying to reach their dad. I haven’t seen the doctors lately either. I wish someone would tell me what’s going on.”
Fran takes my face in her hands. “Gabby, you have to calm down. You’re exhausted, you haven’t eaten, and you’re sick with worry. That’s not a good combination.”
Kyle comes back with a cheeseburger, a latte, and a bag of Swedish Fish. I almost smile; he’s so well-trained, but I don’t feel like eating any of it. “Thanks, Kyle.”
He gives me a kiss on the cheek, sits down next to Fran, and laces his fingers through hers. I need Brad to hold my hand right now.
Fran leans over to me and whispers, “you need to keep your strength up. How else are you going to be able to show your hot piece of ass how much you love him if you’re withering away?”
“I love you, Fran.”
“I know, sweetie. Oh, I almost forgot, there was a message at home from someone named Edith Hanley.”
“Yeah, that’s the program director from Parsons. I decided to enroll for next year.”
“Sweetie, that’s fantastic!”
It should be, but right now I don’t feel very excited. “Yeah, I guess.”
Fran and Kyle stay with me a bit longer, but I finally kick them out when the nurse says I can go back in to sit with Brad.
