Until My Heart Stops Beating

by Tonya M Barber

  “Wakes up? What are you saying?” Sam inquired releasing his hands from Makeba’s.

  “Oh my God!” Shyanne said.

  “Dear Lord,” cried granny Whitaker.

  “No,” sobbed Shelly.

  Makeba stood there deathly silent waiting for Dr. Mathers' reply.

  “Mrs. Whitaker, your husband is in a coma,” interjected Dr. Spencer.

  Makeba closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply. Turning on her heels, she headed back to her seat. It was worse than she had imagined. She knew it was bad but she didn’t expect this; coma, swelling on the brain, memory loss. This was far from what she had expected to hear. As the others continued to converse with the doctors, she tried to keep her composure which was proving to be a losing battle. Out of nowhere, a loud moan inadvertently escaped her lips. She began rocking back and forth as she sobbed uncontrollably. Granny wheeled over to her and tried to assure her that Declan would pull through but Makeba was inconsolable. On the other hand Shelly had returned to her seat just as distraught as Makeba. All the women were clearly in emotional pain and Sam didn’t know what to do to comfort any of them because he was hurting too.

  For the next several days Makeba sat at Declan's bedside day and night. There had been no changes in his condition which worried her. As much as she tried to remain calm and keep her stress level low, it was damn near impossible. The longer Declan remained in a coma, the more she realized the possibility that he may never wake up.

  The doctors suggested that she go home to rest. They informed her that he wouldn’t acknowledge her presence anyway. No matter how many times they had that conversation with her, the response was always the same. She preferred to be near her husband whether he was conscious or not. Every day like clockwork, she’d pull her chair as close as she could to the bed and write him a love letter and every day, she’d whisper the words she had written in his ear hoping at some point, it would help him fight his way out of the coma. Around ten to eleven o’clock at night she would leave the hospital only to return one to two hours later reclaiming her place at his bedside. This would give her time to eat, shower and nap between visits.

  The long days and nights at the hospital were beginning to wear her down. She was weary, stressed and emotionally drained. Today was the longest time she had spent away from him, only because she had a prenatal visit. Sitting on the sofa in the living room, she pondered the doctor’s words.

  “If you want to have this baby, then I suggest you let go of whatever it is that’s causing you to stress. Your blood pressure is a little high,” he told her.

  Shaking her head at the words replaying in her head. How is that even possible? Her stress was coming from the fact that her husband was in the hospital, critically ill, and in a coma, and from the looks of things, he wasn’t putting up much of a fight to come back to her. The thought of living her life and raising her child without him was causing her enough stress to last two lifetimes. Even so, she knew the doctor was right. If she wanted to bring her baby into the world, she had to find a way to limit her anxiety which forced her to do something she did not want to do because it was too soon. She went to the hospital and announced her pregnancy to Declan’s family, telling them that she had to take it easy if she was going to bring her baby into the world. Everyone showed their jubilation except Shelly but Makeba didn’t expect her to.

  WHO ARE YOU

  Makeba was on the beach lying on her chaise lounge with a huge umbrella shielding her from the sun as she looked out over the ocean. She was trying hard not to dwell on things that she had no control over. Six months pregnant now, feeling alone and abandoned when this was supposed to be one the happiest moments of her life but it wasn’t. How could it be when she was going through the last stages of pregnancy alone? She thought being banned from the hospital was the worst that could have happened to her. She was wrong. The worst thing was exactly what she was forced to do, live without the man who had her heart.

  A little over two months had passed since she last laid eyes on her husband. Every time she thought about that day, it felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. The call came in around 11:30 am. Doctor Gutiérrez called to inform her that Declan was awake. She dropped the phone immediately and went to the hospital. Ms. Whitaker was standing in the corridor conversing with the doctor. The conversation ended abruptly when she approached them.

  “Good morning Doctor Gutierrez.”

  “Good morning Mrs. Whitaker?”

  She noticed the rolling of the eyes and the quick turn of the head from Declan’s mother but she overlooked it. She was jubilant and nothing or no one was going to destroy the joy she was experiencing, not even her.

  Makeba stayed out in the corridor discussing Declan’s condition and what the next steps would be in his recovery. Doctor Gutiérrez explained that he had a long road ahead of him. He also informed Makeba that Declan had some memory loss and that it could be just temporary. Hearing that was like being punched in the gut. What if she walked in and he didn't remember her. She couldn’t fathom how that would make her feel. She glanced at Ms. Whitaker as the doctor continued to speak. She could have sworn she observed the corners of her mouth curve into a slight smile before walking off into Declan’s room.

  Makeba stood outside the door afraid of what would happen. Her stomach was in knots and her hands were dripping with perspiration. Will he remember her or will the love and memories they’ve made be taken away like an eraser to writing on a chalk board? She took a deep breath as she ran her hand down the sides of her pants to dry them off. She entered the room. Standing next to his mother was Deena. Sighing, she turned towards him as fear gripped her insides the moment she laid eyes on him. His expression was evidence that he had no clue who she was. She felt resistance in her knees, still she forced them to move towards his bed. It was as if she was climbing a steep mountain trying to reach the top. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as her eyes filled with tears. His reception of her was cool and unfeeling, like seeing someone for the very first time. It did appear as if he was trying to figure out who she was but couldn’t.

  “I’m so happy you’re awake.” She bent down to kiss him.

  He frowned as he moved his head away from her. His forehead creased, “What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

  “Declan.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  She shook her head as the tears began to fall. “Don’t you know who I am?”

  She looked at his mother then at Deena, both turned their heads offering no assistance.

  “Declan, I’m your wife. Makeba.”

  He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Wife? Did she say wife? He shook his head.

  “Please tell me you know who I am,” she cried.

  It was something familiar about the sound of her voice. He was sure he had heard it before but when? Where? He couldn’t remember. He scanned her body. There was a small bulge in her midsection. If she wasn’t pregnant she damn sure looked the part. He couldn’t possibly be the father or could he? Surely he would remember being with someone and he had no recollection of being with her. As stunning as he thought she was, there was no way he’d ever forget making love to someone so strikingly gorgeous. Furthermore, he had never been with a black woman in his life and the last woman he remembered being with was Deena.

  Hating the pain in her eyes but there was nothing he could do about it. She couldn’t be his wife because he was not married. In his mind this was the first time he ever laid eyes on her. Makeba opened her purse, pulled out her wallet, and retrieved a few wedding photos and attempted to show him but he refused to look. He apologized to her and asked that she leave the room at once and never come back. He told her he was sorry she was having a difficult time but she had made a terrible mistake because he was not her husband. He warned that if she returned he would be forced to call security and have her removed from the room.

  “Please don’t do this Declan. I love you,” she sobbed.
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  “C’mon dear. Perhaps you should go home. Maybe things will be better in a few days,” his mother said pressing her hand lightly in the small of Makeba’s back while gently pushing her toward the door. From the corners of her eyes she could see Deena hurrying to the side of Declan’s bed holding his hand.

  Makeba moved her shoulders causing his mother to remove her hands, “I’m not going anywhere. Why don’t you tell him? Tell him dammit!” she sobbed.

  Unbeknownst to her, Declan had hit the nurse call button on his remote.

  A woman’s voice could be heard over the intercom in his room, “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, we need security please.”

  Makeba was hurt, shocked, and distraught. He called for reinforcements to have her removed from his room. She didn’t know what to do or how to react. Hell, she was already crying her eyes out. Glaring at her mother-in-law through watery eyes, she became even more incensed the moment she saw a slight grin in the corners of her mouth for the third time today. Had she been anyone else besides his mother she would have surely wiped every remnant of that silly grin from her face and Deena would have gotten the Brick City beat down once again.

  Torn, she walked away with the imprint of Deena’s and Ms. Whitaker’s facial expressions tattooed in her mind, hoping that one day those smiles would be turned to frowns. She had lost that battle but was determined to win the war. Leaving heartbroken but not in despair, weary but willing to put up a damn good fight for her husband. This was far from over. Just as she passed the nurses’ station, security hurried to Declan’s room. Bowing her head in disappointment, she continued to walk towards the elevator. Seconds later the door opened. Stepping in, she held her head up willing her tears to stay put. The vision of Deena cradling her husband’s hand in hers cut deep but the comfortable and relieved expression on his face when she did it cut even deeper. She gripped her stomach as it churned, twisting in knots. The doors to the elevator couldn’t open fast enough. The moment they parted she rushed off, exiting the hospital as quickly as she could, taking a much needed deep breath when she got outside into the fresh air.

  As she took out her phone from her purse, she called Rasheeda purging everything that had just happened while visiting Declan. Rasheeda tried to comfort her and she appreciated her attempts but nothing could soothe her aching heart at that moment. Her life had been torn apart like a tornado ripping through a small village causing irreparable damage. Her heart literally ached. Thanking Rasheeda for allowing her to vent, she ended the call, jumped in her car and went back to the beach house.

  The pounding on the door woke Makeba from her sleep. Hurrying out of bed and wrapping herself in her robe, she rushed toward the door with her heart pounding rapidly thinking it was something about Declan. Looking through the peephole and seeing who was standing on the other side of the door didn’t make her feel any better. “Lord, please don’t let anything be wrong with him.”

  She inhaled deeply then opened the door standing to the side to allow them to enter. Sam pushed granny Whitaker inside. After kissing Makeba on the cheek, he resumed pushing granny further inside the house into the living room. Makeba closed her housecoat tying it around her waist as she followed close behind them, taking a seat on the sofa as Sam sat on the opposite end.

  “Granny wanted to visit. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Forcing a smile she said, “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Makeba, I know this has to be rough on you. We heard what happened at the hospital and I’m so sorry you had to experience that. Hopefully his memory loss is only temporary.”

  “I hope so,” she replied through trembling lips.

  “It will,” stated granny Whitaker, holding out her hands to her. “You’ll see. The depth of love the two of you share is going to be the one thing that pulls him out of the fog.”

  She grabbed a hold of granny’s hand. “I sure hope so granny.”

  “It will, and don’t you ever doubt it.”

  “It’s difficult not to after last night.” She rose from the sofa. “Seeing Deena comforting him, holding his hand like she had a right to, made me feel like bursting into flames. God, I don’t know what I would do if I lost him forever.”

  “You will never have to find out. I bet my life on it,” replied Sam as he stood. He approached her with extended arms. She welcomed his embrace, breaking down in the comfort of his arms, grateful she had two people there that she could lean on during one of the most difficult times of her life. Releasing herself from his embrace and returning to her seat, she informed them that she wrote him a letter listing all the reasons she loved him. Granny thought it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard of and Sam, he wished that he had someone in his life that loved him half as much as she loved Declan. Touched by what they had heard, they promised that they’d read every letter she writes hoping that at some point, they would help him remember the love he shared with her. She thanked them and bid them farewells as they left.

  ~*~

  Over the next several weeks, Makeba had been visited not only by granny Whitaker and Sam, but her mother even came out twice staying for a week each time. Marcella also spent her vacation with her but the most shocking of all was Shyanne. Shyanne accompanied granny and Sam on a few visits. She was glad she had been given the opportunity to get to know her apart from Ms. Whitaker. Shyanne proved to be approachable, friendly, compassionate and very intelligent. It was precisely why she was in her wedding. They got along so well.

  Finally, after so much time had passed, Rasheeda was able to fly out to Chicago to be with her. Although she enjoyed the company of so many others that had come to keep her company, her's was the one she was looking forward to the most. After their initial conversation about Declan, it was decided that Rasheeda would not feel sorry for her but that she would treat her as if nothing had changed. As always she held up her end of the bargain. That was easy to do considering the only contact they had was over the phone. Would Rasheeda be able to do it while being in the presence of her company, witnessing the occasional sadness, spontaneous shedding of tears, and sometimes the words of doubt that escaped her lips concerning her marriage to Declan? Makeba sure hoped she could.

  A visit from her friend seemed to be the best medicine for her wounded heart. They talked, danced, and hung out as much as possible. The spa visits were the best but today they decided to just stay in and relax by sitting outside on the beach. It was a cool breezy day but nothing beat being surrounded by nature when you’re going through something. Makeba grabbed a book and yelled to Rasheeda that she would meet her outside. Rasheeda assured her she’d be out shortly.

  Makeba slowly walked down the beach and unfolded her chair when she reached the exact spot she felt comfortable in. Lowering the book onto her chair, she hurried back to the house to retrieve another chair for her friend and sat it next hers. Sitting down and grabbing her book, she began to read as the sounds of the ocean waves splashing against the shore were heard in the background. What a tranquil sound it was. Closing her book, staring straight ahead into the sky that appeared never ending, she went into deep thought. This was going to be one of those days. She could feel it.

  I WOULD HAVE WAITED FOREVER

  Makeba became emotional as thoughts of good times with Declan crowded her mind. She wanted to shut it down but she couldn’t. The display of timeless memories played over and over again like a recording on a CD player with no pause button. She wished she could turn her brain off, stop thinking, end the visions that infiltrated the mental territory that affected her heart, a heart that was so damaged she didn’t think it could ever be healed.

  One month, that’s how long it’s been since she’d seen her husband. It wasn’t for lack of desire or trying. She tried to get him to remember who she was, what they had, and the love they shared. Nothing worked. She sent letters to be read to him by her allies, Granny Whitaker and Sam and even Shyanne, took part in the efforts. They agreed to help anyway they could so they would read
them to Declan whenever Ms. Whitaker and Deena wasn’t around. They knew if she got wind of what was going on she would hit the roof. After a month of consistent letter writing she realized it was all in vain. Her letters didn’t accomplish what she set out to do. Instead, she received a letter of her own from him asking her to cease and desist. Sam hated to have to tell Makeba the news. She had been through so much already but there wasn’t anything he could do. Declan was adamant about wanting nothing to do with her. Finally coming to the realization that she wasn’t going to get her husband back she made a conscious decision to try to move on without him.

  Makeba tried to convince herself that she should move on. At least that’s what her head was telling her but her heart defied everything that her mind was saying she had to do. She loved him and no matter what was going on she couldn’t let go. Her heart belonged to him and deep down inside she knew she was in his somewhere. She prayed that somehow the love they shared would be strong enough to pull him into remembrance of their lives together. Was she crazy for thinking such a thing? She prayed many times for God to hear her cries and turn this thing around but for some reason it seemed like God wasn’t listening because as of yet, he hadn’t answered her prayers. On second thought, maybe he did. Maybe God said no. The thought of “no” sent her into emotional turmoil. Her breath quickened, her pulse was racing, and a flood of tears fell from her eyes down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand trying to stifle the sounds. Her breaths were rapid and shallow. She sat up in her chaise rocking back and forth as if the movements would appease her pain, but nothing was going to soothe the ache embedded deep within her heart but the return of the man she loved, her unborn children’s father. A few minutes later she was able to compose herself. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands.