Page 38 of Insidious

He’d always let her lead while he disappeared behind newspapers and fishing trips. I know they love each other. But what goes on between them … who really knows.

***

When I walk in, Luna is restless. Her eyes move under translucent lids, sometimes opening to show a glimpse of green before closing again. They give her something to calm her down, say something about her trying to pull her catheter out. I sit, holding her hand as long as they let me, waiting for her to wake up again. I can see her hospital gown is wet in the front. The nurse said they had to pump the milk out. Bile rises in my throat at what I almost lost just to keep the peace.

***

Later, she grows agitated, as if she is trying to reach the surface.

They add soft restraints to stop her pulling at all the wires and tubes.

I stand here, staring at her wrists where the fabric loops loosely. She would hate that. Her hair is tangled. It looks like it needs a wash.

That small, ordinary detail hits me harder than everything else.

Her hair is her pride and joy. Dark brown and reaching her hip, I love to spread it on my pillow. I used to watch her brush it out before tucking it behind her ears just so.

Her eyelids look thin and bruised, almost translucent with pale green veins just beneath the surface. I can see her eyes moving beneath them.

Is she dreaming?

Or is her mind trying to find its way back?

I sit here and think about the first time I heard her voice.

She was twenty-one. I was twenty-six.

Just a phone call to ask when she should report for her internship. But her training contract was in front of me and as soon as I saw the stiff smile on her passport sized photograph, I just needed to see her face.

And when I did … God. It had taken me six months to get her to agree to go out with me.

Another few months before I popped the question.

And when she said yes, it felt like my forever had chosen me back.

I was twenty-eight back then. She was twenty-three.

We got married in a small chapel by the sea. Luna had flowers in her hair and looked like she had stepped out of a dream. She had whispered about wearing something blue under her seafoam gown, and it was all I could think of.

We waited to have Amelie. Luna wanted her permanent job first. I was all for it. I had her all to myself a little longer.

And now, here we are, thirty-two and twenty-seven.

Six years behind us with a life built, piece by piece.

And I sit here, watching her tied gently to a hospital bed.

And wonder how I could have written that line to Chloe.

I still dream about you.

I married Luna at twenty-eight because I couldn’t imagine a life without her.

I had married Chloe at nineteen because I didn’t know how to say no. And we didn’t even last a year. Nothing good came from that.

I look at Luna again, and all I feel is panic. Something so much worse than fear. I desperately want her to wake up. But what will happen when she does?

***