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“Hi,” I say weakly, and Paul smiles.
“What happened?” I glance around the room, realizing that my neck now moves, that I can turn my head with ease. Ouch. After that blinding slice of pain, maybe I should take it easy.
“You wiped out. The board must have hit you on the head.”
“I’m in the hospital for that?”
His face tightens. “You were without oxygen for a while. And with head trauma... for a while we didn’t think you’d make it.”
“We?”
His eyes hold mine. “The doctors... and also Stewart. He was here.”
My heart sinks in my chest. “Here?” With you? The unspoken words scream through my mind.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “But don’t worry about that now. You need to rest.”
“He’s not here now.”
“No. He left a few hours ago. Once your condition stabilized.”
“And how long will you stay?”
He watches my eyes carefully. “Until they drag me away.”
I smile, my eyes closing as another burst of pain lights every receptor in my brain. “My head hurts,” I mumble.
I hear him stand, his hand brushing my hair back, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll get the nurse,” he whispers.
I keep my eyes closed and wait for the pain to ease, my racing thoughts interfering with the process. Stewart was here. With Paul. In the same room. Speaking. Interacting. I am almost grateful for my unconscious state. I cannot imagine the words spoken, the conversations had. I would wonder at his absence—wonder what that means to our relationship, but it is Stewart. His work, no doubt, needed attention. I am surprised he stayed until I gained consciousness. I wonder what will happen with my relationships. This is surely the moment. I always thought that when this happened, I would have to choose. Which of my men I love the most. But now, with hours of unknown events, chances are that that choice has been taken from me. And in that light, Stewart’s absence seems more notable.
I hear the door and reopen my eyes, watch as a nurse scurries in, pressing buttons and making adjustments. “You’re awake!” she says with a beam. She lifts a remote, presses it into my palm. “This is painkiller. Just press this button if the discomfort gets too strong. I’m adding a bit into your IV, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you fall back asleep pretty soon.”
I nod, and place the remote on my stomach, my eyes finding Paul’s. He gives me a worried smile and turns to the nurse. “How do her vitals look?”
“Good. We’re not out of danger yet but we are moving in the right direction. We’ll monitor her closely tonight.” She pats my arm and I attempt a smile, the pain already less, my mind taking advantage of the increased capacity and envisioning all of the disasters that could have occurred during my sleep.
“How long was I out?” It hurts to talk, my throat raw, my lungs moaning over the expelled air.
She glances at her watch. “About twelve hours. This is the first time you’ve been coherent enough to talk.” That’s a good sign.”
Twelve hours. Cities burn to the ground in less time than that. I wait for her to leave and watch Paul sit carefully on the edge of my bed. When the door clicks behind her I wet my lips.
“What happened? With Stewart?” I fight the question, hating the words as they leave my mouth. But I need to know. I need to know what tomorrow will bring. Sleep will come soon enough and wash over the reality.
“He had work to do.” He glances at my face. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”
I can see his pain through his eyes and it strikes me suddenly that I’ve never seen him this way. Worried. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I have never felt more helpless. I want to hold him, to push that darkness from his eyes. I want to go to Stewart, to make him look me in my eyes and to ask him what he is thinking, where his mind is taking him. But I would probably be disappointed in the answer. His mind has probably already left this problem and is attacking ones that are in his control. In the office, on the phone, on his computer at home. I lean back and close my eyes.
I wake once to voices, arguing softly, and open my eyes enough to see a nurse, speaking heatedly to Paul. The second time I awaken, the room is dark. I turn my head and see Paul, in a chair, his head to the side. I let my eyes adjust to the room, the pain present enough for me to reach for the remote, press the button on its front.
I am grateful for the silence. For the ability to think without being observed.
I have lived in this fairytale for so long, it is hard to imagine an alternative. But this feels like the time. The time to pick a path, abandon the other and move forward. I look at the man asleep next to me, the room’s shadows highlighting the strong features, his large frame uncomfortably sprawled over the hospital’s narrow recliner. It is no surprise that he is here, that he won the battle against the nurse and sleeps beside me. Paul has always been here for me. He is my rock and loves me unconditionally, no matter what kind of crazy quasi-relationship we have had for the last two years.
I glance up, at the ceiling, letting out a painful breath and thinking of Stewart. Also, not a surprise that he is absent. Our entire relationship has been squeezed in between stretches of absence. His passion for work is one of the things I love about him, but it has always been a competing piece—the fourth person in this triangle. And I’ve always known where I stood in that order—behind that passion, peering over its shoulder and waving my hands for attention.
At this point, this juncture, the decision should be easy. Paul is right here, just waiting for a shot at my entire heart. He has been waiting for it ever since that day under the pier. I was just too distracted by Stewart, emotionally tied to him, to see Paul in the role he should have been in.
I reach out for him, then clear my throat, coughing slightly, and Paul instantly moves, waking, his hand swinging out and hitting a lamp. He shoots to his feet and stands, still, his body tense, listening in the darkness. I softly say his name and he steps forward, gently reaching out until his hands find my body. “Are you okay Madd? Do you need the nurse?”
“I’m fine.” I whisper. “I just... Paul—I just wanted to say that I love you.”
He stills, his breath stopping in the quiet room. “I love you, too, baby.” He says gruffly, kneeling beside my bed and holding my hand. “God, I love you so much.”
“Forever and always,” I whisper.
