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Her words bring me a long-overdue sense of relief from an unlikely ally. Everyone else has been very careful with their words, cautious about giving me too much hope while trying to draw me closer to accepting what they see as reality. But this woman just confirmed it's not as crazy as it might seem to think otherwise.
"Thank you." I glance at her name tag, which I never bothered to check until now. "Madison."
She smiles and gets to work, lifting the blankets and slowly washing my wife's legs and towel drying them before moving onto her upper extremities. She hums while she works, massaging Ivy's muscles a little, and I think about how much I owe these staff members. It's something that can't be quantified. A debt of goodwill. And at that moment, I make a silent promise to myself. I will find out who Madison, Katie, and all the other nurses are and what they need. Student loans paid. Houses. Cars. Whatever it may be, I will provide that for them because they deserve nothing less for the dedication they have shown my wife.
"Hey, look at that." Madison smiles, pointing at Ivy's arm. "She has goose bumps."
"She does?" I perk up, leaning over to see it.
Madison nods, reaching to lift Ivy's wrist, and then her eyes widen in shock. "Oh my God."
"What?" I move around to that side of the bed. "What is it?"
"She twitched. I swear... I felt her wrist move."
A flicker of hope alights in me as we stand there side by side, staring down at Ivy's arm. It feels like a dream. And the longer we watch with no activity, the more I'm questioning if Madison is insane like me. Seeing things that aren’t there.
"You try." She releases Ivy's arm and gestures for me.
Shifting the baby slightly, I free my right arm and reach for Ivy's hand. But it doesn't twitch. It does something else entirely. Her fingers curl so slightly, I'm certain I must be imagining it.
"Is that just a reflex?" I whip my gaze back to Madison.
She looks nervous but giddy at the same time. "I think we better get the doctor in here."
37
Ivy
I’m cold. My fingers close around something soft, but it’s gone a moment later. A baby cries out then it’s quiet again. Dark again. I don’t know for how long until I feel something pinch at my arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice booms as I pull my arm away as much as I am able.
It’s too loud all of a sudden. Too bright when I manage to partially open one eye, so I close it, and I’m drifting off when I hear him again. Hear the baby cry again.
“Ivy?”
I want to sleep, but something inside me responds to that voice. Whatever it is wants to wake up. Is fighting to.
“Ivy, can you hear me?” It’s another man’s voice this time. It's quieter and calmer than the first one. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
I try. I manage to open one, but again, it’s too bright.
“Turn out the overhead light,” the first man commands, and it’s gone, the light softer now. Natural so I can rest.
“Sir, we need you to step out of the room.”
“Like hell I will!”
I hear a scuffle and then the baby again. “I’ll take her outside,” a woman says. “I’ll just be right out here.”
“Ivy. Can you hear me?” It’s the other man, the calmer one, and this time, he doesn’t ask me to open my eyes but pulls one lid up and shines a bright light into my pupil. When I try to pull away, someone laughs. It’s the loud man. And it’s a strange laugh. Relieved. Happy and sad at the same time.
“Ivy, angel. Ivy. I’m here.”
“Sir, please.”
A warm hand takes mine. I squeeze it. I try to at least because I don’t want him to let go.
“There. She did it again. I felt it. I swear I felt it!”
“Mr. De La Rosa, if you can come with me, we can give the doctors room to do their work.”
Mr. De La Rosa.
Santiago.
“Your wife is really in the best possible hands. But you need to give them some space to do their work.”
Someone pinches me again, and when I make a sound of protest, they laugh. Why are they laughing?
“There she is. Ivy, my name is Dr. Singh. Do you think you can open your eyes for me?”
I want to. Where is Santiago? I don’t hear him anymore.
“You’re upsetting her! Whatever you’re doing is fucking upsetting her!”
There he is, and he has my hand again.
“Ivy, it’s me, angel. Santiago. Your Santi.”
Santi.
He didn’t let me call him that. Not at first anyway.
I remember Mercedes then. That’s her nickname for him. And I remember how mean she is, at least toward me.
The beeping of machines becomes more hurried, and Santiago speaks. “It’s all right, Ivy. No need to get upset. If you can’t open your eyes right now, it’s okay. Shh. Just relax. You can open them later.”
