by Garcia, Amy
“Ahh, Mr. Lawson, you’re looking well, you’ve made remarkable progress.” Dr. Carmichael gushes with his heavy Italian accent.
“I’m going home.” Evan declares. Ah, fucking hell! I knew this was inevitable; I’m actually surprised he waited this long, which shows me the extent of his dependence on others. Anything less than a coma, brain surgery or broken bones wouldn’t have held him here this long.
“Evan, just a few more days, come on, seriously you need to be monitored closely!” I cry.
“No no, Mrs. Lawson, your husband has assured me he has adequate staff and emergency equipment at home to enable him the freedom of leaving. I think it would be fine for him to go, as long as he takes it easy.” He’s falling all over his words, I can see what’s going on here and I don’t like it.
Dr. Carmichael wants Evan out of his hospital just as much as Evan wants to be gone, they’ve discussed it without me, it’s a done deal.
“See baby? Nothing to worry about, the doctor here says it’s ok.” Yeah, I’ll bet. He probably paid him for discharge orders, or…no; he wouldn’t threaten him would he? That’s the old Evan; the heartless Evan is gone along with the tumor.
“You don’t believe him?” Evan’s voice drips with fake astonishment.
“No, I don’t.” I stand my ground before these two powerful men; I literally stand up and cross my arms across my chest in defiance. Evan puts down the tablet and motions me closer to him.
“No. You’re not going to hypnotize me.” I say pointing my finger at Evan “And you're not going to be manipulated by this man.” I point at Dr. Carmichael. Evan covers his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter and my blood boils.
I turn all of my attention to Dr. Carmichael now “You do know you’re still responsible for him when he’s discharged, he could go home and do too much, end up back here or worse.” I glare at him and pray to God he’s getting my point. “You know who he is don’t you?”
“Now Mia, that’s enough.” Evan snaps. He’s not laughing now; he’s dead serious. I look from the doctor to Evan and back to the doctor who is now far more distressed, good. How can he even think of discharging him three days after major brain surgery?
“Sir, if your wife would be more comfortable having you monitored another day or two…” Dr. Carmichael is hushed by Evan.
“No, she’s fine, I’ll be in good hands when I leave, she knows that.”
Ahhh! He’s maddening! And this stupid doctor is falling for his shit, just like everybody else! I stomp from the room and find myself mindlessly walking toward David’s room to see if he’s still here. He isn’t, the bed is empty, and the room’s been cleaned, all ready for the next critically ill person.
Goosebumps rise on my skin, and suddenly I feel watched again. It’s been a while since I’ve had this sensation, I had decided it was residual from being under a microscope for so long at home with Evan, but now I’m not so sure. I stand outside David’s empty room and scan the area with only my eyes, unmoving I try to pick out anything out of the ordinary but as usual I see nothing but the now familiar nurses’ faces and a few visitors that disregard me.
This isn’t my imagination, I’m sure of it, as sure as the hairs that are standing up on the back of my neck. I don’t like it; there are too many people in this world who have vendettas out on my husband. As for me, there will always be one person who keeps me checking over my shoulder, the one who scares me and paralyzes me so severely I can’t close my eyes to sleep without tranquilizers.
“Stai bene?” I whirl on the nurse speaking to me and find myself in a defensive stance; hands rise to ward off attack. “Oh!” She jumps back
“I’m sorry.” I apologize, shit, she spooked me! Get it together, Mia, it’s just a feeling, your nerves are frazzled.
I keep telling myself this over and over while I make my way back to Evan’s room where he is now sitting alone, iPad disregarded on the table next to him. He stares blankly at the T.V.
“Hey” I say softly not wanting to startle him from his thoughts. He turns his face toward me but avoids eye contact and instead focuses on my feet.
“I’m…damn it…I’m sorry, Mia. I’ll stay another day or two if it makes you feel better. I know you went to hell and back getting this surgery arranged. I still can’t believe you let that nut case open my head.”
Now his eyes are on mine full of concern; I’m still stuck back where he said I’m sorry, this is new territory for me. I’m used to the bossy stubborn Evan but thoughtful, considerate Evan, well that’s just…just strange.
“I’m a difficult man, Mia, I know and you deserve much better.”
“Evan…”
He cuts me off before I can continue, “But you are mine by some fluke of the universe, and I’m selfish enough to keep you and never let you go. You own me, Mia, and you will always have the final word in an argument because I owe you everything. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”
I’m taken aback by the love and tenderness of his words, but an alarm has been going off in my head since I had the creepy feeling of being watched and before I can stop myself I give him what he wants.
“No, we’re going home. Now, today.” He regards me with wide eyes. “What?” Gently shaking his head back and forth. I recognize his confusion, I’m all over the place today, but something in the hallway just now has me willing to risk Evan’s health to get out of here. I begin to gather things from the room and shove them into a bag.
“Stop.” I don’t stop; I continue stuffing my clothes into my duffle bag.
“Stop!” He yells and that does it; he snaps me back to the here and now.
“What?”
“What? Really, Mia? You have gone from insistent that I stay in the hospital for a few more days to jamming things in bags to take me home! What the hell is going on with you?”
I don’t know. I can’t explain it myself how am I supposed to make him understand? I’m frozen one hand holding a sweatshirt the other inside my duffle bag.
“Mia?” I turn and sit on the edge of my cot and put my head into my hands and smooth the loose hair from my face.
“I dunno. I just feel…”
“Watched?” My head snaps up meeting his knowing gaze.
“How did you know that?”
“Because I feel it too.”
“You do? Since when?”
“I’m always being watched by my security, but this is a different sensation, I have been feeling it since I opened my eyes three days ago.”
“You have? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You’re dealing with enough, baby; I was trying to protect you from it. I’ve doubled our security. Whoever it is won’t get to us, please trust me.”
I roll my eyes and go back to work packing. “I trust you, Evan, absolutely and exhaustively but it’s not you I’m worried about; it’s…it’s whoever the hell is out there.” The pitch of my voice rises with every word, and I point to the hall where I’ve recently been overwhelmed with the feeling of prying eyes.
“Oh, my love, come here.” I stop again and tilt my head back looking up at the ceiling, counting to ten and blinking back threatening tears that I refuse to cry. When I’ve collected myself I go to him, he takes my hand and pulls me gently to my knees between his legs. Cradling my face in his hands he looks at me with adoration and sighs while he strokes my cheeks with his thumbs.
“My brave, strong lady, you must stop. I’m back now, you’ve done your part, we are together and growing stronger every day. It’s time to return the worry to me, let it go, let me have it back. I hate to see you fret; my sole purpose now is to make you happy, carefree and full of life. Don’t let the unknown unravel what we have so carefully sewn together. We have faced death head on, battled one catastrophe after another together, hell even before we were together. After all of this there is one thing I know for certain, we are survivors. So calm your heart.” He moves one hand to my chest over my w
ildly beating heart. “And empty your mind of our past fears, we are here! We made it! Life starts over now, we have our second chance, and God knows I don’t deserve it, but I’m taking full advantage, I’m not fucking it up, I won’t fail you, Mia.”
I allow one tear to fall from each eye, no more than one though. I use my new tactic of distracting myself from crying with pain by pressing my knees harder into the unforgiving tile floor; it works. I turn my face into his hand and kiss his palm. He is so poetic sometimes. I’ve forgotten how he softens my heart with his declarations of love; the feeling is stronger now, more potent. The effect he has on me feels like we share the same blood, the same spirit.
“Ok.”
His brow furrows. “Ok, what?”
“Ok, I won’t worry, Ok, I’ll calm down, Ok, we got this.” His trademark smirk plays on his lips, and he pulls me up into his lap.
“That’s my girl,” he croons, but I only allow a second of this before I’m up.
“You shouldn’t have me on your lap; too much stress isn’t good for your head.”
“Well, my head quite enjoys that kind of stress.” He winks. I sigh. Men, no matter how much they love, adore and respect a woman, they are still men.
I continue to pack our belongings though; I may be giving him back the worry but he never said anything about fear, and I’m still afraid. We need to get out of here. Tonight.
Home, I haven’t even been in Italy a month, and this house on Lake Como already feels like home. Home for me now is whereever Evan is; we are each other’s home. The house is quiet, Evan has promised Dr. Carmichael that he will stay in his mini hospital, but I knew that was bullshit the second the words left his mouth. I have insisted, however, that he not be allowed to walk all the way to our bedroom on the second floor.
Cecelia has set up a room on the main floor as close to the front door as possible. The room is not actually a bedroom, in fact, I remember it being a den of some sort, but you’d never know that now. A huge four poster king sized bed has become the focal point of the room, the couches have been removed. Two large wardrobes have been brought in, one on either side of a bump out window that faces the back yard and the built-in entertainment center with a theater sized screen remains. There is even an ensuite bathroom, maybe this is supposed to be a bedroom after all.
Cecelia has gone all out with purple and cream colored roses in vases around the room and deep purple and gray bedding that coordinates with the drapes. A chandelier hangs over the bed; I swear that wasn’t there before. The decor is very Evan, gotta hand it to her, she knows what he likes.
“Ahh God, a normal bed!” he nearly shouts when we pass through the thick mahogany double doors.
“Yes and you’re going to get right into that normal bed, you’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’m already starting to regret bringing you home early.” It was all I could do to keep him from going directly to his office which is the first room inside the foyer of course, and then he tested me again suggesting we go to the kitchen and make sandwiches!
“Oh, you love that I am home! You know you do.”
Ok, so I can’t deny that. “It is good to see something other than the four walls of that tiny ICU room I’ll admit.”
“Oh! I’m wounded!” he gasps and holds his hand to his chest where I’ve supposedly stabbed him in the heart with my comment. “You’re not happy to have me here? You just wanted to escape the hospital?” he asks in mock dismay.
“Oh brother, I think that the tumor must have been suppressing your natural dramatic nature!”
“Hmm, maybe so. Life is boring without a little drama.”
“A little drama? Come on Evan, our lives have been pure one hundred percent drama since we met.”
“Has it been that bad, baby? Do you wish you had never met me?” He says playfully.
If he hadn't just had surgery, I’d be tackling him down onto the bed for a good tickling! I’ve never seen this side of Evan, so lighthearted and free spirited; it’s refreshing, and a little weird.
“You’re a nut. And for the record no, I would never wish I hadn’t met you.” I feel like I should say more, like that he jump-started my stagnant life, he is like dynamite blasting through the stone walls that surrounded my lonely heart and given me joy and hope and love and more happiness than I ever thought possible. But I don’t. I’m enjoying the lightness of this moment, and deep declarations of love would take us in a direction that he’s not physically ready to go yet.
We will both be testing our limits in the coming weeks, denying what comes so naturally to us, minding our Ps and Qs. I’m already having trouble convincing him to rest; he has medications that he needs to take, and he hates medication of any sort. He will have therapy, pain, and possibly side effects of the meds, but I’ll help him through it every step of the way and it will be worth every single second.
“Good to know, Mrs. Lawson, no regrets?”
“No regrets, not one.”
“Let’s get you into bed,” I say.
“I thought you would never ask.”
“Oh no, Mr. Frisky, you know better.”
“And your point is?” Shaking my head with frustration I hitch my thumb toward the bed.
“Get in.” He raises his eyebrows cocking his head, still being suggestive but I ignore him; I have to.
“Wait, sit here while I arrange the pillows so you can sleep propped up, one of the disadvantages of a normal bed, no electronic control.”
I slide a nearby chair up next to the bed, and he sits without complaining while I go about pulling back the heavy duvet and plumping and propping pillows against the padded headboard. Cecelia must have put the sheets on directly out of the wash right before we arrived; they smell heavenly of softener when I pull down the sheets.
“Ok, all set,” I say turning around to help him up. The happy go lucky man from just seconds ago is gone; pain is written all over his face now. I slide my phone from the pocket of my jeans to check the time. Yep, just as I thought, late for pain meds. Shit.
He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger totally giving himself away. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re hurting?”
“I’m not.”
“Yea whatever.” I move between his legs; he looks up at me while I unbutton his shirt, keeping my eyes on my fingers while he keeps his on my face. His stare burns through me, but I concentrate on the job. On the last button my hands are dangerously close to his lap, he grabs my wrists, causing me to look at him.
“Evan…you need rest, pain medicine…” I whisper weakly.
“I need you.” Before I can stop him, his mouth is on mine, nipping at my lips, caressing my tongue with his, igniting a need in me that I know we can’t fulfill. His hunger overpowers me when he takes it further, pulling me to my knees between his legs. The kiss becomes more urgent, our breathing erratic, he moves my hand to cover his solid length between us, encouraging me to go to a forbidden place he positions my other hand on his chest, dragging it tortuously down every ripple of his abs. I am his puppet, and he’s running the show. I know I have to stop this before the light switch clicks, and we are lost in that space between reality and ecstasy, where only he and I exist and nothing else matters. He tenses and everything stops just long enough for me to slide out from under his spell.
“No, we can’t do this, you know we can’t…” I scramble out of his reach but he’s not stopping me, there is no resistance, something is wrong. When I’m on my feet, I realize he’s holding his head with both hands squeezing his eyes shut.
“Fuck Evan, why did you do that? Shit, shit, shit.” Returning to him I slide the shirt from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, I kneel again this time of my own accord and remove his shoes and socks before rising up and sliding my body under his arm and using all my strength to help him stand.
He’s shaky, eyes still closed I steer him toward the bed and I hear him count quietly to himself. �
�One, two, three, four.” On four, we have made it to the bed, he’s counting his steps, learning the room as if he were blind, oh God I hope that isn’t an omen. I turn him so that the back of his legs are against the mattress, and quickly I unbutton his jeans. I work them down; he sits when he knows they are free from his feet, and I help him lift his legs and swing them around, so he is finally in the damn bed. Before I can pull the covers up he turns to his side away from me pulling his legs up into a fetal position.
I’ve never seen him lie this way or sleep in this position, ever. He looks so vulnerable, my foundation shifts and I feel my world vibrate every so slightly. I pull the duvet up and quickly press a kiss to his shoulder before I make a beeline for his bag of prescriptions that we picked up before coming home. I dump the bag of bottles at the foot of the bed and begin to search for what he’s supposed to take at five o'clock even though it’s now six fifteen.
Immediately, I realize all the instructions are typed in Italian, shit! Ok, that’s cool, I can figure this out, I know meds, I’m a nurse right? I open one bottle, and I don’t recognize the pills to be anything for pain. I repeat this with two more prescriptions before I grab my phone and google prescription pills. This helps me determine quickly the medication he needs, identifying each pill by the letters and numbers stamped on them.
Evan hasn’t moved or said anything. I grab a bottle of water Cecelia has blessedly left on the night table and crawl across the bed to him.
“Evan baby, you need these, here open your eyes for a second.”
“I can’t, just help me,” he says and I place the pills into his open mouth and hold the water bottle to his lips while he swallows them down.
