“It wouldn’t have been mean if it had saved her life.”
“But you don’t even know if it would have made a difference. You don’t know what it was that made you survive when everyone else didn’t. It might be more than just where you were sitting.” Abi bit her lip. “When you first came to, you kept talking about seeing Jordan on the plane.”
“It was a dream.”
“Yeah, but what if it wasn’t? How could you have a dream in which he used a phrase you didn’t know the meaning of, in a way that made perfect sense? A phrase he actually had used once when talking to me, although you weren’t there to know about it.”
“You think he was really there?”
“I think it’s possible! What if his spirit was actually there, just to save you? What if he really was trying to do me a solid by keeping the woman I loved alive?”
“Even if he could do that, why would he only save me? Why not Lauren or any of the other passengers?”
“Maybe he only had the power to save one person.”
“Then why wouldn’t he have saved someone else? There was a baby on that plane.”
“A baby who was there with her parents. They all died together instead of the baby being orphaned. So they’re still together, you see? All the families on that plane are. It might seem sad to us, but from a dead person’s point of view, it probably doesn’t seem so bad when whole families die together.”
“He could have saved Lauren. She was all alone. Her parents have to live without her now!”
“He didn’t know Lauren. You were the only person he would have known, and if he was doing me a solid, that means he wanted to do something nice for me, maybe to thank me for being his friend or whatever. The only way he could do that was by saving you.”
Greta closed her eyes, resting her head on Abi’s chest. “I don’t really believe in that sort of thing.”
“It’s just a possibility. I’m not saying that’s what happened, but…you can’t prove it didn’t.”
***
Abi tried to take care of Greta, but caring for her physically, she now realized, had been the easy part. All she had to know was what Greta needed and how to give it to her, and she gladly did so. Caring for her emotionally was less clear-cut. She had wounds now that no doctor could stich up, breaks no surgeon could put together with plates and screws.
Often Abi would run Greta a bubble bath and would read to her while she soaked, similarly to how she’d read to her when she was in a coma. Greta couldn’t seem to focus on books right now, but she did seem to listen to Abi’s voice, at least a little. Sometimes they would make frenzied love as if Greta were desperate for her body to be so filled with sensations that her mind couldn’t work anymore, but afterwards, there would be no tender kisses and smiles. Greta would just lay her head on Abi and close her eyes, looking ashamed, as if she had just taken something she wasn’t entitled to.
Abi also noticed that Greta’s physical therapy wasn’t going as well as it had been. She seemed to be losing ground, fumbling to do things that she had mastered before. It was like her heart just wasn’t in it.
“Do you still have the quad cane at home?” Marci, her therapist, asked one day while Abi was preparing to take Greta home.
“Yes, we have it in the closet,” Abi said. “Why?”
“She just doesn’t seem to be balancing as well,” Marci said. “I’m not sure she’s ready for the single-point cane after all.”
“But she was walking okay on it before,” Abi said, looking at Greta in concern. The redhead just kept her head down, leaning on the cane she’d brought, the simpler one she’d graduated to.
“She was,” Marci admitted. “But for whatever reason, she’s not now. She almost fell several times during her exercises, and she really can’t afford to have a bad fall. I think she just needs more support right now.”
“I can get the quad cane back out,” Abi promised. She placed one hand on Greta’s back and lightly held her upper arm while walking her to the car, suddenly terrified she would fall with the use of her inadequate cane. She helped her into the car and then went around to the driver’s seat.
“Greta,” she said gently as she drove away from the clinic, “why are you going backwards in your therapy?”
She glanced at Greta and saw her looking down, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m trying,” she said, her voice brittle. “But it just doesn’t feel as important anymore. I’m the only one from the plane who’s alive at all. Why does it matter if I can walk?”
“It matters because you are alive, and you deserve to live your life to the fullest.”
Greta just continued to look down, a small sniffle escaping.
Abi sighed. “Greta, if I had been on a plane that crashed, and you heard on the news that only one survivor had been found, would you hope that survivor was some kid you didn’t know?”
“Of course not,” said Greta, her voice trembling. “I would hope it was you.”
“So you can’t blame me for hoping that about you, or for being glad that it was you.”
“I don’t. But if you were the only survivor, how would you feel?”
Abi was quiet for a minute. “I’d feel horrible,” she admitted. “I would feel like there were other people who deserved to live more than I did.”
“So each of us understands how the other feels.”
“I guess we do.” Abi was quiet for a minute. “But, isn’t it enough for you to know that you can be with me now? I don’t think I could live without you. So, in a way, you surviving means me surviving. So, doesn’t that make it worthwhile, that you lived? Can’t you at least be here for me?”
“I’m trying,” Greta whispered. “But I’m just so sad.”
She began sobbing then, and Abi pulled the car over to take her in her arms, as best she could given the awkward positioning they were in.
“It’s okay,” Abi said softly, stroking Greta’s hair. “It’s okay to be sad.”
***
Abi thought a trip to the studio might cheer Greta up. Maybe seeing her castmates filming would remind her what she was working towards, would motivate her to get back to her old life as soon as she possibly could. She knew they’d had no choice but to write Greta’s character out of the rest of the season, and they’d given many of her lines to a young actor who was with them that season playing an intern. When he had started, Greta had described him as “cocky” and “lacking empathy,” and seeing him deliver lines that should have been hers without any of the compassion she would have used would inevitably drive her nuts. That should light a fire under her for her next physical therapy session.
Greta got onto the elevator with her quad cane, Abi at her side. They rode up to the third floor and got off at the studio where the interior scenes for Mercy ER were filmed.
“Everything looks just the same as I last saw it,” Greta said, carefully walking around. And it did. It felt strange to Abi as well that a place they had been away from for so long could still look the same when they had changed so much.
“Greta!” They both turned at the cry from behind them and saw Tricia, the show’s female lead, barreling towards them in full costume. “Greta, how are you feeling?” she asked, pulling the redhead into a hug.
“Much better than I was,” Greta told her. “How is everything here?”
“Oh, you know, same old. We’ve all missed you. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only sane one around here.” Tricia rolled her eyes with a smile. “Today we’re filming an episode where a tour bus crashes and the ER is flooded with victims. Ted got the idea when one of the buses outside the studio nearly hit him.”
There was always a line of buses carrying tourists outside the studio, and everyone always complained about how they blocked traffic. Greta was not surprised that Ted from the writing team had decided to crash one of them in his imaginary world.
“I’m glad Ted was finally able to get revenge on those buses,” Greta said with a small smile.
“Come on, they’re filming a scene now that you were supposed to be in,” said Tricia. “I can’t wait for you to come back. Your character is so much better than Grayson’s.”
They quietly walked up to the set where filming was in progress. A young actress, either a teenage girl or young woman, was lying on a hospital bed, made up to look absolutely mangled. Actors were crowded around her, pretending to try to resuscitate until someone declared that it was too late, they’d lost her. Sloan threw something against the wall in frustration, as one of his character’s storylines this season was difficulty controlling his rage every time he lost a patient. The director yelled for them to cut, then told them to start over from the top. The “bloodied” young actress scratched an itch before returning to her lifeless state.
Greta stared, transfixed, with a growing horror spreading across her features.
“Greta, maybe you shouldn’t watch this,” Abi suggested gently.
Greta turned to her, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t think I can come back,” she said hoarsely.
“Greta, don’t be silly.”
Greta shook her head. “How can I watch people pretending to die and not think of all the people who died around me in the crash? How can I look at people who are made up to look like they’ve been in horrible crashes and not think about my own crash? I was so worried about not being able to come back if my balance and coordination don’t improve, but maybe I don’t even want to anymore!”
“I’m so sorry,” said Tricia. “I didn’t think about how this would look to you, Greta. We’re so used to seeing fake gruesome injuries around here, but I guess…I guess it looks different when you’ve been through the real thing.”
“It’s okay,” Greta said softly. “There’s no reason why you would have thought about it.”
“Greta…let’s go check in with the hair and makeup department, okay?” Abi suggested. “This is no time to make any decisions about your career. Let’s go say hi to the crew and then head home.”
“I was supposed to be a real dead body,” Greta said quietly as they walked away.
“No,” Abi insisted. “You were not. I need you to be alive.” She pulled Greta into a tight hug, holding back her own tears as she felt Greta’s wet her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This was a mistake.”
***
The visit with the hair, makeup, and wardrobe crews cheered Greta just a little, especially when they told her there were surprises in her dressing room. Abi helped Greta walk upstairs to the mezzanine, as there was no lift to get up there, and Greta was delighted to see all the “congratulations on your wedding” cards and gifts people had left on her dressing table. There were even a pair of white teddy bears, both wearing veils. Someone dug up an empty box for Abi to put everything in, and then they slowly made their way back downstairs, Greta gripping the rail with one hand and her quad cane with the other.
Abi would have been holding Greta’s arm on the way down if she hadn’t had the box.
Greta was just a few steps from the bottom when she lost her balance and fell, down the steps and onto the concrete floor below, landing on her left side.
“Greta!” Abi screamed, dropping the box and running down the steps. “Greta, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Wincing, Greta tried to sit up, and Abi quickly encircled her with her arms, lifting her gently to a sitting position. Greta seemed to be struggling to draw in breath. “My lung,” she gasped.
“Is it the same lung you punctured?”
Greta nodded.
“It’s probably collapsed again.” Abi slid an arm under Greta’s knees and stood, lifting her in her arms. “I’ll take you to the ER. The real one.”
The ER doctor confirmed that Greta’s lung had collapsed again, just as badly as before, so she had to be re-admitted to the hospital and have another tube stuck into her chest.
“I thought she was out of the woods,” Abi said to the doctor, her voice breaking, as they stood outside Greta’s hospital room. Greta had been given painkillers and appeared to be sleeping, but Abi didn’t know if she really was or if she was just trying to shut the world out.
“It’s very lucky she didn’t rebreak any bones,” the doctor said. “I find it worrying that she lost her balance even while using a quad cane.”
“She hasn’t been doing stairs much yet. I should have been holding onto her,” said Abi.
“You can’t always be there to hold onto her, so I think she needs to use a full walker for now, until her balance improves. And no more stairs.”
“But she already went from a walker to a quad cane to a regular cane,” Abi pointed out. “Then she went back to a quad cane, and now she needs to go back to a walker? She was doing so well until she found out about all the other passengers on the plane. Now she doesn’t seem to care anymore. She keeps saying she should have died too.”
The doctor looked at her seriously. “Do you think she could be having thoughts of suicide?”
Abi shuddered, looking back towards Greta again. She was curled on her right side, looking miserable even with her eyes closed. She never looked peaceful anymore.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I…I hope not.”
“I’ll order a psych evaluation just to be safe,” the doctor said. “It’s not unusual for people experiencing survivor’s guilt to attempt suicide.”
Abi frowned as she struggled to hold back tears. “I couldn’t handle it if she did. She deserves life and happiness more than anyone I know. I can’t let her…I can’t let her fall apart like this.”
The doctor gave her what she knew was meant to be a reassuring smile. “You’re not alone in this. We have an excellent psych department that can help her through this.”
But I don’t want her to need a psych department, Abi thought, though all she did was nod. As upsetting as today’s physical setback was, the emotional setback was far worse. This was the woman who had fought her way back from a coma and spent weeks smiling through the pain, just happy to be alive and with the woman she loved. That enormous will to live and to get better that had gotten Greta through so much for so long just didn’t seem to be there anymore.
***
“I’m sorry, Abi,” Greta said as Abi prepared to settle in for a night in the hospital. Being back here was harder than before, now that they had spent weeks snuggled comfortably in their warm king bed at home, but Abi was resigned to the situation. Hopefully, it would only be for a few nights this time.
“Hey, it’s not your fault you fell,” Abi said, situating an ice pack on Greta’s elevated ankle. She had twisted her good ankle, but fortunately the right one had been safe inside its protective boot.
“No, but I know you want me to get better. And I know you’d rather be at home.”
“It’s just a small setback,” Abi promised, pulling the blankets up over Greta.
“I’m just so tired,” Greta said. “I’m tired of working so hard just to get through the day.” She closed her eyes. “But it’s horrible for me to say that when I’m the only one who got out of that crash with my life.”
“It’s not horrible.” Abi took Greta’s hand and squeezed it. “Anyone would be tired.”
“Sometimes I don’t know if I can keep pushing myself to go forwards. I don’t have the energy anymore.”
Abi tightened her grip on Greta’s hand. “Sweetie, you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t do anything to hurt yourself, would you? Because, it scares me when you say you should be dead too and things like that.”
Greta opened her eyes, but her face crumpled, and tears began to fall. “No,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“That’s good, because it would completely destroy me,” Abi said, her voice shaking. “But you shouldn’t just live for me. You have so, so much to live for, all by yourself.”
Greta just looked at her, tears continuing to fall. “I used to,” she said. “Now all I have is you. I don’t know who I am anymore, besides your w
ife. I can’t do the things I used to do. I feel like maybe it would have been for the best if I had died with everyone else, but…then you would be devastated. And I love you too much to want that to happen.”
“You might feel like you don’t know who you are right now, but I promise, if you keep working to get better, you’ll find your footing. Maybe going back to the show isn’t what’s right for you, but you’ll find something. I know your life will be meaningful again.”
“I hope so,” Greta said weakly, looking up at the ceiling. “But it just feels like I’ve been climbing up a mountain, and every time I start to see the top, I slip and fall and I have to start climbing again. And it’s wearing me down. I fought with everything I had, and now I don’t have anything left. I can’t climb anymore. I don’t have it in me.”
“Then I’ll carry you,” Abi promised, pressing a firm kiss to her wife’s forehead.
She waited for Greta to drift off, and then she sank to her knees by the bed, finally letting her own tears fall.
“I know I asked you to bring her back to me before,” she prayed, “and you did. But I need to ask you that again, because she’s gone far away from me again, and I need my Greta back. I need her to come out of her depression and live her life again. It’s not fair for her to live through something like this and not be able to enjoy her life. She needs her fight back. We both need to move forwards. Please help her figure out how to do that, please.”
She knelt for some time in silence before finally squeezing into bed beside Greta, utterly exhausted.
19
Breakthrough
Greta heard Abi praying, and it worried her. Although she knew Abi had been raised in the Christian church, she was no longer observant and rarely prayed. It wasn't that she didn't believe in prayer; she just saw it as a last resort. As long as there was something that could be done about a situation, Abi preferred to be out there doing it, not down on her knees asking God to do it for her. It just wasn't her style.
So for Abi to be praying now, it must mean she felt there was nothing left for her to do. She was worried sick about Greta, and she was desperate. Greta didn't want her to feel that way.
Survivor's Guilt Page 17
