The Reason I Breathe

by CORY CYR

  Carrie honestly thought after the dust settled, I would rebound into her arms. She made it painfully obvious what her agenda was that night when she kissed me and tried to touch me. She hadn’t been trying to protect me. It was losing me to an older woman that pissed her off and made her feel inferior. It must have cut her to the quick to find out you really existed. That the reason I’d never loved her was because of you. I’d been making up excuses the entire year we were together. I’d always been honest; she always knew I could never love her. When I finally cut her loose—she understood.

  The last day I saw her, I wanted to hurt her, and I mean physically. I couldn’t stand the baby talk, the baked goods, and her continual attempts to get me in bed. It unnerved me. The truth was Carrie made me sick. The sound of her voice, her scent, even her touch made me want to vomit. I wanted to cause her pain as she had done to me. She was a conniving cunt, and I wanted to fuck her up. You know I would have never physically touched her, but it took a lot of mental convincing on my part not to go there. Every time I looked at her and saw that fake smile, it was a reminder of what I’d lost and how she was responsible.

  I finally had it out with Carrie. I told her in explicit details how she’d ruined my life. I made sure she was aware she would never occupy the space you did. That every single thing about her made my skin crawl. I would rather be without the woman I loved than be with her. She did what she’d always done. Cried and blubbered. I called Trina and told her to come over and get the bitch out of my house. She arrived twenty minutes later and drove her home. I’m sure when my sister heard my threatening tone, it alarmed her. Hell, I was so incensed it scared me.

  I heard through Quinn that you and Trina were bonding as sisters. I didn’t have a clue where that would leave us. Trina was my sister and now yours. This was a twisted situation. I anticipated future holidays to be worse than the ones we’d already endured. Trina and I began having minimal conversations. We never spoke about you. I wouldn’t allow myself to ask. Maybe I was afraid you’d really moved on. I knew you had a new life. One that didn’t include me. A life where I wasn’t missed. It looked like you were doing just fine without me.

  I didn’t want to move on. My feet always stayed frozen to the spot, pointing straight to you. I think I might have gotten past you if I’d never tasted you. Touched you. Been inside you or loved you. It was too late for me. You were a part of me. Being with you had been as natural as breathing. Being without you, I felt as if I were dying slowly.

  I’d never known loss, not real loss. I mean, sure, my father was killed in prison. Good riddance. I’d lost animals at the clinic—patients. But I never felt the anguish of true loss. When Trina called me that day, she was frantic. I could barely understand her. She was trying to speak words while sobbing. She begged me to go to you. You were in trouble. All I heard was your name and your husband’s. Panic bubbled up inside me as I tore down the street like a maniac. I had no idea what I would find.

  I noticed the front door was unlocked as I barreled through it. I yelled your name as my eyes frantically surveyed the room. I caught the sight of your cell phone lying on the carpet, smashed and in pieces. The living room was in disarray. Not messy like when you read that lawyer’s document, but it appeared “tossed.” The sofa cushions were on the floor. The coffee table was flipped. The fireplace looked damaged. Chips of brick lay everywhere and the poker was missing. Nausea and horror rushed through my body as I heard voices coming from upstairs. I took the steps two at a time, frantically praying you were all right and blaming myself for leaving you.

  You were sprawled across the bed. Some animal was on top of you, between your legs. He was trying to take what was mine. I picked him up and threw him into the wall, then briefly looked you over. Jesus, baby, your face was battered and your one eye was swollen shut. Blood plastered your lips, and your shirt had been torn in half. I felt bile rise to my throat.

  I began to shake as I pummeled him with my fists over and over again. In that moment, I wanted him dead. I could have killed him and no one would blame me. But you briefly turned your head and pleaded silently for me to stop. His eyes rolled back into his head as he went unconscious. I tossed him back against the wall and came toward you.

  A guttural cry ripped from my throat. Your breathing was so shallow. I had no idea how badly you were hurt. I fell to my knees and continued to cry. I heard you whisper to stop. Then your eyes closed. In that second, I was sure you’d left me. I was positive whoever found us would find three deceased bodies. Living without you wasn’t a possibility, and I would make certain to destroy the man who took you from me.

  The EMTs arrived almost instantaneously, shoving me out of the way. I gazed at them as I pressed my body against the far wall. They immediately covered your nose with an oxygen mask and began assessing your injuries. One of them stared at my torn knuckles as he bent down to look at Garrison, who was beginning to come around. The EMT peered over at me and nodded. He understood what had happened and what I’d done. He began monitoring Garrison’s blood pressure as two others arrived with a gurney. I watched through blurry eyes as they loaded you onto the bed.

  I was literally shaking, petrified. I had allowed this. I let my fucking dignity get in the way of protecting you. I don’t think I’ve ever forgiven myself, Ryan. You’ll never understand what it did to me deep inside to see you so battered and bruised. I’d gone through it myself for many years, and to know it happened to you was almost too much.

  I went with you in the ambulance, baby. You probably didn’t know that. I never wanted to leave your side ever again. I stayed with you. Garrison had cracked several of your ribs, punctured a lung, broken your cheekbone, and split your lip. I wished I’d killed him. When they read off the list of your injuries, I had murderous intent written on my face. Trina knew it because she dug her fingers into my elbow to keep me steady.

  You were still out of it, so Trina, being your only blood relative, had them do a rape kit. I paced. I huffed. I growled. While I waited for the results, I plotted. If he had touched you sexually, no one would be able to stop me from murdering him. Frankly, I didn’t know whom I hated more in that moment, Garrison or myself.

  You hadn’t been raped. I breathed a sigh of relief. But my anger still boiled. I could punish myself all I wanted, but I knew who was to blame. I kept things from you, Ryan. Maybe I should have come clean before you were in this coma. I’m not sure telling you now will make me feel less guilty. I did leave you that first night. While Trina and Quinn stayed with you, I borrowed their car to get you some clothes. But I made a detour on the way home.

  Carrie opened the door. Her eyes snapped open wide as she saw my hands and shirt still splattered with blood. I pushed myself past her and told her to shut the door unless she wanted her neighbors to hear what a fucking bitch she was. She looked scared. After our last confrontation, I can imagine how I appeared, my hands and clothing bloody. She’d only seen the tip of the iceberg. This was no longer about her doing something to screw with me. She had done this to you. She was responsible. And forgiveness was now off the table.

  Carrie had nearly cost me everything. Her jealously and bitterness had made her seek out Garrison. Even now, when I saw her, all I could remember was what she did to you. I don’t care if you forgave her. It’s not in me to do that. I can’t be like you, babe. You almost lost your life because of her jealous pettiness.

  I got up into her face and all my anger spilled out. The wood cracked as I slammed my fist into the door above her head. I told her how Garrison had tried to kill you. That I found you battered and beaten, clinging to life. Tears welled up in her eyes as I went through the list of your injuries. I asked her if she thought your death would bring us together. She sobbed loudly as she grabbed the sleeve of my shirt. I shoved her away and let her know we were done. Forever. Period. I told her to stay away from you and me. I threatened her with a restraining order. I made sure she was aware I might go to the police and let them know she was involv
ed

  As I left, Carrie looked very timid. Rejected. She kept repeating how sorry she was. Like saying those words would change shit. It hadn’t helped me a bit.

  I stayed with you, Ryan. Just like I’m doing now. I promised you then I’d never leave you again. Ever. The nurses kept giving me some bullshit about visiting hours, but they would have had to physically remove me. I wasn’t going anywhere. I could have said I was your brother. Even though the documents weren’t true, I could have used them to prove we were related. I knew that wasn’t going to hold water, since they found me several times lying in bed next to you or sitting in the chair with my head on your stomach, asleep. You know me, babe. I always have to be in touching proximity.

  After three days, I think the nurses gave up. I would have slept in the waiting room, but I wasn’t going to let them separate us. Trina brought me clothes and dinner. You and I spent the last few days in the hospital, watching bad daytime television and playing cards. They said you could go home after a week, but you had to continue bed rest for a month. I had plenty of games we could play while you were confined. I could tell you were eager to go home and lie in our bed together and unattended.

  I was apprehensive to touch you. Your ribs were still tender and your lung was healing. Even with swelling, cuts, and bruising, your face was still beautiful. I couldn’t wait to get you home. We’d spend hours coming up with new positions that wouldn’t make your injuries worse. Poses that would make the Kama Sutra blush.

  Trina and Quinn sat in the room with me while you packed your stuff. I was more than ready to get you home. But there was one thing I had to do first. I’d royally blown it the first time, and even though the hospital wasn’t ideal for a second proposal, it would have to do. I produced the ring box and asked you. Again, I was floored. You flat out said no. Twenty seconds later, you removed the ring from the box and placed it on your left hand. I was confused, babe. I mean, you did say no.

  You asked Trina and Quinn for some privacy as you pulled me on the bed with you. You went into an entire story about how I was too young to make such a life-altering commitment. You wanted to make sure this was what I wanted. You were going to make me wait until I was twenty-five. Three fucking years, Ryan. As if thirty-six months were going to change the way I felt. I’d already waited thirteen years…

  ~29~

  “Mr. Michaels.” A voice jars me out of semi consciousness. It’s Dr. Harper, Ryan’s respiratory physician. I blink rapidly, then get up.

  “Are you able to get ahold of your sister?”

  His question startles me. Fear crawls along my spine.

  “What is it, Dr. Harper? What’s wrong?” I ask apprehensively.

  He grins as he checks Ryan’s chart and then views the monitors.

  “What’s going on? Tell me.” I demand.

  “We want to talk to you and your sister. We should have had this family conference sooner, but after much debating, there are decisions that need to be made, and I want to make sure you and Trina are on board with our next course of treatment,” he says as he pats me on the shoulder.

  “Is my wife worse? Doc, you’re not instilling confidence in me right now. I’m not sure I can take any more bad news.”

  Dr. Harper smiles as he flicks the water bag attached to Ryan. “Get your sister here, and I’ll meet you on the second floor in conference room 2A within the hour.”

  I punch Trina’s number in my phone immediately. When I tell her what the doctor said, I can hear obvious panic in her tone. She’s wondering the same thing I am. Even though Dr. Harper was smiling, he’d also been cryptic. Last time, it had been a nurse who was secretive, and we know how that went. Why the urgency?

  Trina and Quinn arrive twenty minutes later. Both of them look at Ryan as we stand vigil by her bed.

  “Let’s go and find out what the hell is happening,” I say as I head for the door.

  “She looks peaceful and radiant. Even after all these weeks,” Trina says as she palms Ryan’s cheek. “We’ll be right back, sister.”

  All three of us take the elevator to the second level and find the conference room. I don’t like what I’m seeing. Dr. Harper has been joined by three others. I assume they’re physicians. A familiar face smiles at me. Lynne. A look of uncertainty passes between Trina and me as we’re motioned to sit. All three of us sit facing all of them.

  “We feel it’s time…” Dr. Harper speaks.

  Somewhere deep inside me, I was expecting this. I know what he’s saying. It hasn’t even been three months. It’s too soon to surrender. I’m not giving up on my wife. I will not abandon her again. I feel anger begin to surface as I prepare to respond.

  I interrupt him before he has a chance to continue. “Well then, it’s a good thing my wife’s future isn’t your decision. Obviously, it’s ours or you wouldn’t have called for this little gathering. I have no intention of throwing in the towel regarding Ryan. I can have her moved to another facility,” I spit out as I feel the familiar tick begin in my cheek.

  Trina’s hand covers mine, sweaty and shaky. As much as she wants me to be calm, I can sense her trepidation. Since when have I become the solid foundation? The person to lean on? The pillar of strength?

  I look over at Quinn, who stares back at me in helplessness. I value his opinion, but he knows what Ryan is to me. What she represents. He’s not confident enough to voice his perspective. What’s going on right now has to be Trina and me only. We have to speak for Ryan.

  My determination is keeping me upright; I can fall apart later. I would never give up on her—not until she took her last breath.

  “Shea,” I hear Lynne’s comforting voice say softly. “It’s not what you think. If that were the case, there would be clergy here.” She really cares about me. She’s not only my wife’s nurse, but I swear she’s my voice of sanity.

  I roll my eyes as she winks. She knows my feelings toward God, and we’ve had many religious debates since Ryan’s been here. It’s as though she’s attempting to bait me right now.

  A look passes between Lynne and Dr. Harper. Then he nods.

  “We feel it’s time to wean Ryan off the vent. Every doctor has agreed, and all her vitals appear to support that fact. The neurological tests indicate she no longer has any brain swelling and has healed nicely. She has a strong heart, and we believe she can breathe on her own.”

  For the first time in months, I feel hopeful. “Are you sure? How do you know she can breathe without the vent?”

  “We have no way of knowing one hundred percent, but she will be monitored twenty-four-seven. There will be an alarm, and if for any reason her breathing becomes impaired, we’ll know. It’s time, Shea. This way you’ll know whether the coma is permanent. If all our scans are correct, once she starts breathing on her own, she should wake up. Anyway, that’s what the goal is. We want to make sure you’re all comfortable with our plan. The decision is still in your hands.”

  I look over at Trina, who squeezes my arm and Quinn’s hand at the same time. Holy shit, there is hope on the horizon. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with Ryan. The accident, the coma, everything we’ve gone through was just a deterrent.

  We all nod in agreement. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can honestly breathe. I exhale for the first time I can remember in a long time. Then I inhale deeply as I rise from my chair.

  “So how soon can we do this?” I ask Lynne.

  “As soon as we get the monitor and alarm in place, we’ll start decreasing the oxygen she’s getting from the vent. If everything goes as planned, we’ll remove the incubation tube tomorrow or the next day. If her breathing becomes erratic, we can put her on a C-pap,” Lynne explains.

  I know what a C-pap entails since my son had been on one for five days after he was off the vent. I know it’s a less invasive process for the breathing impaired.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” I look at Trina and Quinn.

  We hang around and chat with the remaining doctors. I spend more
time speaking with Lynne while she helps me fill out paperwork. I have to sign a release to take Ryan off the vent. As I read the form, my eyes zoom in on words like brain dead and death. All of a sudden, I’m having second thoughts. Lynne senses my apprehension and assures me this is an appropriate course of action and what I’m signing is standard procedure. She seems very optimistic that doing this is wise and I’m making the right choice.

  We all separate an hour later. My sister and Quinn go to pick up Holly. I head to the cafeteria. I actually feel like food.

  I get myself a burger and a coke. It’s been a long time since something tasted good, and I’m famished. Once I finish, I contemplate the future. I know Ryan will have rehabilitation for an extended period. She hasn’t been active in almost twelve weeks. Most likely, a long road lies ahead of us. Nevertheless, I feel invigorated. By this time next year, this will be nothing but a bad memory. Our family will be complete.

  ~30~

  Once I return to the room, I notice they’ve taken down the levels on the vent. They began the process. Lynne said within a couple of days, we’ll know if the tube can be removed. I yearn to kiss my wife.

  It feels like it’s been an eternity since I’ve kissed you. Deeply. Intimately. I can’t wait until your mouth is tube free and your body is wire free. Your touch is life affirming. I need that closeness. I admit I’m needy. And right now, what I need most is my wife.

  §

  I’ll have to admit, Ryan, when you said I couldn’t marry you for three years, I was annoyed and disgruntled. I’d already waited years for you. You looked at me very nonchalantly, I might add, and told me it would be a cakewalk. Seriously. I wasn’t as amused as you appeared to be. You looked very pleased with yourself. After what you’d gone through, I would have agreed to anything. Besides, I had punishment planned for making me wait. Sexual punishment.