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“Okay,” I breathe, closing my eyes for a few seconds. “Okay.”
What I don’t realise until I walk into the large room is that no amount of reassurance from Tom would ever be enough to prepare me for what I’m seeing right now. It’s a small ward with four beds, four patients, and an office behind a glass wall manned by three nurses and a doctor in green scrubs.
He’s a young doctor, like Tom, and I wonder if they know each other. His stethoscope is cool – striped with all the colours of the rainbow.
“Theo?”
I’ve never seen one like it before. Maybe he works on the kid’s ward.
“Theo?”
I bet she doesn’t work with kids, I think, eyeing up the older nurse with grey hair and a sour expression. Her stethoscope is black. Ordinary. Her eyes are ordinary, too. I don’t see a very exciting story behind them. I imagine her in a marriage of convenience, no kids, works overtime to avoid spending time with her equally boring husband.
“Theodore?” My full name snaps me from my musing and, for the briefest second, my heart flutters.
James?
It’s not James of course. It’s Tom, and he’s holding my upper arm. “It’s okay, T. Come on. He needs you.”
But I don’t want to look at James. I’m not sure I can handle it. My knees are already weak, and I’m scared that if I look at him, they will buckle altogether. Instead, I stare at the doctor’s stethoscope again. Tom should get one like that. Maybe I could get him one for Christmas.
“Let’s go outside,” Tom suggests. “We’ll come back in a little while.”
He needs you. Be strong for him. Don’t let him down again.
Sucking in a deep breath, I shake my head in defiance. “No. I-I’m okay.”
Releasing my breath through pursed lips, I flex my clammy fingers and turn around. James is lying on the bed in the corner, and the second I see him, my head falls to one side as if my neck is no longer strong enough to support it. Max is sitting on a high-backed chair to James’ right, so I amble to his left and hover my hand over James’ arm, too afraid to touch it.
“God, James,” I whisper, allowing my thumb to brush over the blue dragonfly tattooed onto his forearm. His skin is so much warmer than the last time I touched it. It’s comforting, so, sitting down, I lower my hand and interlock my fingers with his. The back of his hand is pink and blistered from the boiling water and when Max asks why, I tell him. He doesn’t reply, simply looks down, closing his eyes.
My gaze travels up, over the bandages covering his wrist and I can’t prevent the image of what’s underneath from torturing my mind.
“I’ll leave you alone for a while,” Tom says, patting my back.
“Me too.” Max stands from his chair. “I need to call my mum.”
I hear them walk away but my eyes are trained on James. It looks like he’s sleeping, which comforts me because it means he’s not in pain. My gaze keeps wandering to the tube in his neck and it makes my stomach feel queasy and my chest ache. The sterile dressing around it doesn’t do much to hide the incision and all I can think is, why? Why did he do this to himself? Why did he give up? Why wasn’t I enough?
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” I whisper, brushing the back of his hand, careful to avoid the cannula, with my thumb.
The machine next to me makes a whooshing sound every time it forces air into his lungs, and each whoosh stabs into my heart like a knife. There are several pieces of equipment, each emitting different beeps, displaying numbers I don’t understand, and housing various wires and tubes attached to numerous parts of James’ body. I don’t know how they’re helping him, I can only hope they are. I’m not prepared for any other outcome.
“Come back to me,” I say, reaching out to palm his cheek. “Be the stubborn bastard I know you are and fight. Fight for me, James. I won’t let you down again.”
Tears roll freely down my face and I don’t even attempt to stop them. People throw the term heartbreak around all the time, and until today I naively thought its definition was sadness. Only now, sitting here with my head pressed against the guardrail of James’ bed, do I realise that it literally feels like my heart is breaking, splitting in two. It’s not just sadness, it’s a debilitating ache in my chest. It’s struggling to breathe – consciously focusing on each breath I take because it feels like if I don’t my lungs will collapse. It’s suddenly having all my future dreams ripped from under my feet because all I can think about is getting through today, getting James through today.
Heartbreak is uncertainty.
Desolation.
Confusion.
Doubt.
Anger.
Fear.
Heartbreak feels like your entire world is crumbling above your head, and all you can do is sit back and wait for it to crush you.
This is our story. It’s not supposed to end here.
“Don’t give up, baby. Don’t give up.”
**********
“Theo.”
There’s a nudge on my shoulder. I want it to go away.
“Theo. Come on, mate. Time to go.”
“Huh?” Peeling my head off the back of the chair, I see Max standing over me. We’re in hospital. James. For the briefest of seconds, I’d forgot. For just a moment, my life wasn’t falling apart. “Sorry,” I mutter, massaging the stiffness in my neck. “Must’ve nodded off.”
“It’s kicking out time. Tom’s waiting for you downstairs.”
Looking at James, I don’t want to leave him. How am I supposed to say goodbye not knowing if it will be the last time I ever do? “You’ll call me, right? If there’s any change,” I ask, knowing as James’ next of kin, he’ll be the person they contact.
“Of course I will.”
Standing, I bend over James and lower my lips to his forehead. “You be here in the morning, You hear me? Don’t you dare leave me.” I stroke his cheek, whispering straight into his ear. “If you can hear me, James, know that if tomorrow never comes, I…I love you.”
