by Emerson Rose
“In my pocket. I had to take them off when I saw Brian earlier today.”
“You’d better leave them there then. The nurses will talk if they haven’t already and who knows what they’ll say.”
I chew on my bottom lip and commit Marcus’s most hated sin. I worry. This could blow my whole plan. The saying ‘loose lips sink ships’ comes to mind. Shit, I hope nobody talks.
“You speak Italian, right?”
“Yes, of course, we grew up here.”
“Okay, keep your ears open when the nurses chat in the hall and can you tell Ladonna that it’s a secret? Just tell her we haven’t announced it to our family or something and to keep it quiet.”
“Who’s Ladonna?”
“The nurse from this morning, she’s the only one that has been friendly since we got here. Oh, that reminds me, I saw the crazy Smoke Lady in the bathroom today.”
“She is so gone. I mean, she’s really sick, I’m not sure it’s safe to have her wandering around the ICU.”
“I thought so, too. What did she say to you?”
“More shit about my smoke. She told me to go home because she couldn’t see my smoke, whatever that means. Then she started mumbling to someone who wasn’t there. She told me her name and get this, she calls herself Queen Tamila.”
She makes a facial expression that is so much like Marcus’s it has me doing a double take. Of course, they look alike, they’re twins, but when she scrunches up her face like she just did, it’s clear that they were once close.
“Queen? Really? Maybe we should find out who she's visiting here. They need to keep her in their room.”
“Can you do that? Or will you translate for me so I can?”
“No, I’ll do it, but no one administrative will be here until after the holidays.”
“That’s OK, just watch your back, she seems like she could be dangerous.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. She creeps me out.”
“I had better get going. I need to go to the house and make sure everyone is settled and has everything they need. And I guess I’m stopping to talk to the dirty doctor.” We both chuckle, even though it’s really not funny. He is a dirty, meddling, son of a bitch, but so is Karma and I know he will get his eventually, they all do.
I watch Elena gather her purse and drape her coat over her arm. She kisses Marcus on the cheek and heads out the door.
“Wish me luck.”
“Luck.” She’s going to need a lot more than luck. I hope she has some acting skills. Doctor Brian Carlson needs to believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I want him as much as he wants me.
Seventy-Seven
I’m worried, for all of the obvious reasons, but now I’ve added a few new ones to the list. What if the whole hospital already knows Marcus and I are married? What if Brian saw my rings before I could get them off? What if he knows I’m trying to fool him into doing Marcus’s surgery? What if he leaves before I get the chance to make him believe I’m interested? What if Marcus freaks the fuck out when I tell him what I’m doing? Or worse yet, what if he never wakes up to freak the fuck out? I need to talk to him, he needs to wake up soon.
I wedge in next to him on the hospital bed for another one-sided chat.
“You’re a bed hog, you know? I can hardly fit in here with you. We have a great big bed at home. If you open your eyes we can go there and I can take care of you like I used to. I could touch you and kiss you… everywhere.”
His chest rises and falls in perfect rhythm with the ventilator. I lay my hand over his heart. “Your heart still beats. I feel it. I know you’re still here, I know you can hear me. I’m never giving up, I promise. I’m not leaving your side until you open your eyes. You don’t know this but your room doesn’t have a window. If you don’t open your eyes I’ll never see the light of day again and I’m going a little stir crazy not knowing what’s going on out there. It’s your fault if I go mental, remember that. I’ll end up like that crazy lady in the bathroom today. Remember her? I told you about her a while back. I hadn’t seen her for a while, but we sort of ran into each other again. She told me to go home, she was talking a bunch of gibberish to an imaginary person, nuts, baby, she’s totally bonkers.”
I have his arm wrapped around my waist and I’m holding his hand. I circle the tip of my finger on his palm and lace my fingers with his. I give his hand a squeeze and my imagination starts running amuck. I swear he tried to move his fingers. The realist in me brushes it off as wishful thinking.
Shit, I want him back so bad my mind is playing tricks on me. It will be Christmas in a couple of hours. I don’t care what the nurses think, I’m going to sleep with him tonight.
“I want to wake up in your arms on our first Christmas together as a married couple, actually it’s our first Christmas as any kind of couple.” I snuggle into his side and fall asleep with my hand still holding his.
A couple hours later, I’m awakened by the alarm of Marcus’s IV beeping. I release my grip to reach for his call light and cringe when I feel the stiffness in my hand. Before I can press the button, a nurse bustles in and quiets the pump. I smile at her, but I’m met with an askance that makes me miss the kind eyes and tender bedside manner of Ladonna.
I hope she will be working on Christmas, having her here would make things so much nicer. I roll out from under Marcus’s arm and leave his warm side to appease the nurse and get ready for bed.
My family is at the house so I text my mom a quick note saying good night and that I’m excited to see them all tomorrow, or today actually, as it’s past midnight. She’s probably still awake. I’m sure her internal clock is completely off from traveling so far and sleeping on the plane.
She texts back immediately and I squeal out loud. I’m so excited to hear from her that I skip my bedtime ritual and crawl into the cot with my phone while Nurse Cranky Pants finishes up with Marcus. I’m getting back in bed with him when she leaves; I couldn’t care less what she thinks.
‘I can’t sleep in this mansion. It's creepy here, Imani. How do you stand it?’
My mother’s text doesn’t surprise me. She’s not into scary movies, haunted houses, or anything supernatural. Marcus’s house would be the perfect place to film a horror movie. It’s freaky at night with all the shadows and old-world décor. I should have warned her.
Sorry, I forgot to mention that. It’s not so bad during the day, I promise. I’m so happy you’re here. Can’t wait to see you all tomorrow.
I don’t want to think about the monumental mistake I made walking through that creepy house for something to drink almost two weeks ago. We wouldn’t be in this situation if I had just taken my ass to bed.
My phone pings when Mom responds.
I am, too, honey. It feels like you have been gone forever. Your dad is scolding me for keeping you up. I’ll see you in the morning, and I expect a full report on everything that’s been going on while you’ve been away. Oh, Dad says hi and he loves you, too.
I miss my mom and her meddling ways. I just wish I had something good to “report.” As it is, I’m going to have to make a bunch of shit up. In fact, I had better get my story straight before morning, so she doesn’t catch me in a lie. I shoot her one last message telling her that I love them both and close the door so I can change.
When I’m in my cotton sleeping pants and tank top, I dry brush my teeth so I don’t have to go down the hall to the bathroom at this hour. If I have to pee before the sun comes up, I’ll just have to hold it. Working twelve-hour shifts on my feet as a nurse I perfected the skill of holding my bladder.
Perched on the edge of Marcus’s bed something makes me hesitate to take my sleeping pills. There is a vibration in the air; maybe it’s the excitement of being reunited with my family tomorrow, or maybe it’s something else?
I sit with one prescription bottle in each hand filled with trepidation. I decide to hold off and place them on the rolling table next to the bed. It’s almost one o’clock in the mornin
g. If I don’t take them now I’ll be tired later when my family arrives.
What am I waiting for?
A tickle on my back makes me hop off of the bed. I spin around, his fingers moving. I switch my focus from his wiggling fingers to his face. His glorious eyes meet mine and for the first time in weeks, I watch his thick full eyelashes flutter while he struggles to focus.
Adrenaline rushes through my body, and I completely forget that he is still in a fragile state. I pounce on him and tears flow down my cheeks. I kiss every part of his face that I can without disturbing the ventilator.
“You’re awake, I can’t believe it, you’re awake, you’re awake. Oh, thank you, God!” He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me closer. He surprises me when he slides them up my arms to my face. He holds my face and fixes me with a serious gaze shaking his head from side to side. And then he frowns.
“What? Why are you frowning? Are you in pain? Oh shit, have I hurt you?”
He repeats the gesture and even amid my elation, I am puzzled. It doesn’t take long before fear grips me tight and I remove myself from his embrace. I back away from the bed a few steps until I’m out of his reach.
“Marcus?” I whisper. My voice has taken a temporary leave of absence. “Is it? Are you?” I hadn’t even considered that it might not be my Marcus who woke from the coma this time.
I’d foolishly assumed it would be my husband and not the monster that would return to me. He recognizes my fear and what happens next shocks me so fully that I don’t grasp what he’s done until the alarms start screeching. His endotracheal tube is suddenly lying on the floor next to his bed. He pulled it himself.
Nurse Cranky Pants barrels through the door, flanked by two other equally unfriendly looking nurses. They speak to him in Italian and from what I can gather they are trying to calm him down.
They’re doing a shitty job. He bats them away with little or no effort even after being bedridden for nearly two weeks. These women are no match for him.
He tries to say something, but despite his effort it comes out a whisper. I collect my wits and take a few tentative steps toward the bed to join the nurses. I have no idea what they are saying but I’m still a nurse, I imagine they’re trying to figure out what to do next.
Marcus had his lawyer draw up documents that limit what they can do to control him. They have been instructed not to administer any further sedatives if he wakes up, no matter what.
Dejá vu hits me when his wild eyes meet mine. He sits straight up in bed, distraught and surrounded by strangers. The only thing missing is his powerful voice yelling my name. His eyes are doing all the talking this time, and unlike the first time he woke up, his heart is connected to mine.
This isn’t the crazed Marcus. I can feel it. I push past the nurses and unencumbered by the ventilator, I crawl onto the bed straddling his hips. Our bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and I cling to him like a drowning woman to a lifesaver in the ocean. His embrace is no less desperate, he holds me fiercely until I gasp for breath.
He loosens his grip a little and I take my first real breath in two weeks. It’s a breath full of relief and hope and gratitude to God for giving me the best Christmas gift I will ever receive. My husband.
Seventy-Eight
Nothing can compare to the feeling coursing through my body right now. I had faith that this moment would come. I prayed for it, begged for it, I even bargained for it but the reality is indescribable. We are suspended in time holding each other until that’s not enough.
I feel like I have to touch every part of him to prove to myself that this is really happening.
I hold his face in my hands and slide them through his soft hair. I watch my fingers moving through his thick, dark locks but his eyes are on me. His hands roam over my body exploring every inch of me, reconnecting and reuniting.
One of the nurses clears her throat and Marcus holds up one hand as if to ward her off. I know they need to assess him and call the doctor and I’m sure they have some tests to run.
I lean in close and press my forehead against his. I take a deep breath and use every ounce of self-control to push off and look into his magnificent open eyes.
“They need to check you over.” A slow, meticulous shake of his head reminds me of how incredibly stubborn this man is. He pushes his hips up and I feel him harden under the sheet. Right here in the middle of his hospital room minutes after he’s come out of a coma, he is suggesting sex.
“Marcus, no.”
As much as I don’t want to turn him down I have to, it’s for his own good. He would never cross the line drawn in the sand by my attackers years ago, “no” means “no” with us. He promised after he kidnapped me that he would never do anything against my will again.
The look on his face nearly kills me. I’ve never turned him away before and after seeing the twisted torment on his face right now, I never will again.
“Please, baby, let them look you over. You’ve been out for ten days.” I drop my chin and look up at him through my eyelashes. He nearly melts in my arms. He circles my waist and nuzzles his face into my neck in a moment of rare vulnerability. He didn’t get what he wanted, but he did it for me.
I give him a quick squeeze and move to climb out of the bed, but he pulls me back for one more reassuring embrace.
When I turn to face the nurses I receive three equally dirty looks. They have been ignored and pushed away for five minutes. Needless to say they are not a happy little trio. Their expressions suddenly change and I look back at Marcus. He has ‘don’t fuck with me’ written all over his face. Back to business we go.
A pudgy nurse turns off the ventilator and clears away the tubing that he tossed on the floor. Another, who in my opinion, looks much to young to be a nurse presses the button to take his blood pressure and listens to his lungs. The last one says something to him in Italian. Whatever it was it didn’t make him happy.
He snaps at her and whatever he said pisses her off so much she stalks from the room in a huff. I look at him from the foot of the bed with my brows raised in question.
“I told her to get all this shit out of me or I will be doing it myself.” He holds up his IV riddled arms. I roll my eyes and place my hands on his feet.
“You need to be nice and cooperate, Mr. Castillo.”
“I need you, Mrs. Castillo.” Mrs. Castillo, shit. My plan, my rings, they are still in my pocket. He’s not used to seeing me with them on, but I’m sure if he’s been listening to me all this time, he knows I’ve taken them off and why.
“What’s the matter?” He’s watching me with narrowed eyes. Damn mind reader. Well, at least this time he doesn’t seem to know specifically what I’m thinking. The coma must have thrown him off his game.
“It can wait until they’re done.”
“Then they’re done.” He barks something at the remaining two nurses and bam, we are alone. This is it. I have to tell him. I wish one of the nurses had been a little sassier refusing to go until they were done. That would have given me more time to procrastinate, but, no, we’ve got a trio of weak ass pushovers working tonight.
I would have set him straight if I were his nurse; well, maybe not. I fell madly in love with him instead. This conversation is going to suck. He’s going to detest my plan, maybe even fight it, but he said he was in 100%. Now he gets to put his money where his mouth is.
“So? Something has you nervous, tell me.” He sounds so tender and understanding. I’m about to squash that. I sit down at the end of the bed next to his feet, right out of his reach. That in and of itself makes him suspicious.
“Imani, you look scared, nothing you have to say is going to upset me. Come here, I’ve been starving for you. Don’t stay so far away.” I blow out a breath and submit to his request scooting within arms’ reach of him.
“Really, Imani, this is ridiculous. You look like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar.”
“Well…”
“Imani, what ha
ve you done?” The command in his voice has me spilling immediately.
“Ok, so do you remember what happened at the house? What got you here?”
“Yes…” No one word could hold more suspicion. He’s leery, sensing what’s coming. I know it. An ambush is the only way to tell him everything without being interrupted by an authoritative ‘no.’
I start with the facts, “We need Brian to do your surgery. Nobody else will do it. They’re all scared you will have them murdered if they mess something up. I can convince him but I need to make him think I’m into him so he will operate, and then I’ll dump him when you’re ok.”
His expression switches from suspicious to rabid in a matter of seconds. His eyes bulge from their sockets and his skin flushes a deep scarlet.
“No. No way. That man isn't laying a hand on you, ever. I don’t want you going near him. I don’t want him thinking about you, dreaming about you, lusting after you. No.” His words are calm, steady and resolute but I suspect his façade will break at any moment.
I move away from him on the bed. I expected him to be upset, but the steely look in his eyes is downright frightening. His blood pressure cuff goes off automatically and a vein I’ve never noticed before bulges on the side of his forehead. This was a huge mistake, I need to do damage control and fast.
“I’m sorry, Marcus. Calm down, please. I won’t do it, really. I won’t if it upsets you that much, I swear.” His blood pressure result pops up on the screen, 190/90. Not good. My face must reveal my concern because he leans forward and turns his neck to look at the reading.
He needs to calm down. I move up close at the side of the bed and he turns his attention to me. I smooth his damp hair from his face and speak softly, “Hey now, shush. It was only an idea. Take a deep breath, we’re going to be ok, I’m sure there is another way. No, Brian… cross my heart.” I make an X over my chest as he takes my advice and draws in a deep cleansing breath. “Good.” He continues to deep breathe and I look down at his hands clutching the sheets at his sides. That was stupid, Imani, good job. He wakes up and you risk giving him a brain aneurism talking about Brian.
