AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My daughter almost died today. The thought sends me reeling. In a single second, I could have lost my reason for breathing. It’s hard not to think about the what-ifs. Would this tragedy have happened had I taken the whole day off to be with them? If they’d been just ten minutes earlier or later, could they have avoided it altogether?
I think about all the times I spent working, my mind constantly running numbers, stressing about clients, and being bitter over temperamental, sexist investors. My body may have been home after work hours, but my focus never left the office. A sour taste coats my tongue, making me sick.
I used to think time was money, but if this situation has taught me anything, it’s that time is a precious commodity—its monetary value priceless—when it comes to spending it with the people we love. I lost a lot of it with Isabel and Remi. The fact of the matter is, without the people we love, it’s all arbitrary. It doesn’t matter.
I close my eyes, picturing Isabel’s chocolatey face. She’s perfect. Relief does not come because I know Remi’s life is on the line.
Happiness is a fickle beast. When I finally gave into it, it was stripped away just as fast.
The days ahead are bleak, and going back to the house without Remi is incomprehensible. Sure, it’s still standing, held up by lumber and masonry, but it’s as empty as I feel inside. Sad and hollow. How do I make it a home without him? You make a mess of shitty breakfasts, sing out of tune, and you keep doing it with a goddamn smile on your face, no matter how bad you feel. Isabel deserves the best of me, and so does Remi.
If he doesn’t wake up, I’m… No, he will. He has to. My heart constricts and folds, causing a sharp, unrelenting throb in my chest.
I did it. I leaned on someone. I let them in. Gave him parts of me no one has ever seen, parts that I didn’t even know I was capable of giving. Let my daughter love him. Let myself fall in love with him.
Staring at the ceiling, I want to scream, Why? The tears fall down my face, hot and relentless, dripping over my neck and evaporating into misty air. Every single one is a wish, a demand, a bargain, a reason.
Please give him back. He needs to wake up now. If he just opens his eyes, I’ll never take time for granted again. He said he’d never leave.
“He promised,” I whisper.
It seems like years of sitting in the waiting room on uncomfortable vinyl chairs. We all glance at each other every so often, but no one says anything. What is there to say? We’re all in our own state of trepidation.
Kiara is fiddling with her paper coffee cup. Cody paces like a caged animal. Jackson is playing on his phone. Granada is praying.
My forehead is buried in my hand, staving off the headache that wants to tear through my skull. I haven’t eaten since this morning, nor tried to.
“Going without meals won’t help, Queeny,” Remi’s gravelly voice floats through my mind, and my lids slide shut so I can savor the sound.
I don’t think I can swallow anything until I know you’re okay, I respond to the ghost in my head. Please, be okay.
A man in scrubs enters the waiting room, his round face devoid of emotion. “Family for Remington Arison?”
We all jolt alert.
“I’m Doctor Raj, the patient’s resident. If you’ll follow me.” He directs us to a small room off of the hallway. “As you know, Mr. Arison has suffered major trauma to his head, causing his brain to shut down. We need to stay positive but also be realistic in our expectations,” he explains, folding his arms over his chest.
My breathing is choppy, and I feel like the walls are going to close in at any moment.
Kiara holds onto her husband. “Such as?”
Granada grips my arm.
“He may need extensive physical therapy. We are still unsure of the state of his mental faculties. If he wakes—”
“When, Doctor,” Kiara interjects. “When he wakes.”
Dr. Raj concedes, “When he wakes up, we need to be prepared if he’s a different Remington than you’ve known.”
“What are you saying?” Cody asks the question no one wants to think about.
“He could experience anything from agitation, irritability, amnesia, to physiological damage or mental impairment.” The doctor speaks impassively while my insides shred and my dreams smash.
It’s hard to imagine the grinning, happy man-boy—who whistles in my kitchen as he makes broccoli-apple cookies—bed bound, wasting away silent and stoic. Or worse, agitated and angry. That’s not who he is.
Unable to hold the severity of the situation any longer, I collapse against the wall. I don’t care how he comes back to me, just that he does. Come what may, we will get through it together.
“He’s tachycardic, Dr. Raj begins again, and I want to cover my ears. I don’t think I want to hear much more. “We can’t get his heart rate down.”
