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I laid my head down on his arm and watched him sleep.
Eventually, I was gone too.
That’s why I’m down, down on my knee!
ON THE seventh day, when he would normally rest, God finally made his decision.
It may not yet be legal, but it’s better than eating a beagle, so won’t you please marry me?
11.
Where Bear Says Hello,
Where Bear Says Good-bye
A HAND. A hand in my hair.
It’s kind and sweet, the touch gentle and loving. For a moment, I forget where I am, the scratch of the blanket against my cheek unfamiliar and rough. But that hand, that strong hand, is making me want to never move, to never have to lift my head again. It would be so easy, I know, to let my strength slide from me, to let my control go and just let the hand run through my hair. I moan quietly into the blanket, loath to open my eyes, to let this dream end and have the cold splash of reality thrust back at me. I don’t want that. I want to dream.
Reality encroaches. Where am I?
The hospital. Seven days. The hospital. Otter. Mrs. Paquinn. Otter.
Otter.
I open my eyes and raise my head.
And he’s watching me with that gold and green. It’s so bright. It’s so bright, and he’s watching me like I’m the greatest thing he’s ever seen. He tries to smile but there’s a tube down his throat. But he tries. Oh, God, how he tries. He grimaces and brings his hand up and rubs it down over the tape on the sides of his mouth, the tube on his tongue. His eyes widen slightly and then come back to mine. There’s questions there, a knowledge that something has happened, but he doesn’t know what. He reaches out for me again and takes my left hand and rubs it urgently, like he’s trying to tell me something, something important. His thumb brushes over a piece of metal on my finger, and he freezes. He touches it again before lifting my hand up to hold it in front of his face. He focuses on the ring and squeezes his eyes shut. A single tear slips out and slides down his cheek.
And I realize I’m awake.
Oh, God. I’m awake.
And so is he.
He’s watching me again, like he can’t take his eyes off of me. There seems to be recognition there, certainly if he touched the ring, but I have to know. I have to be sure before I start screaming for help. I can feel it starting to bubble up my throat, and I know I only have a few seconds before I break, so I have to know.
I grip his hand tightly as I croak out, “Do you know me? Do you know who I am?”
He looks quizzical for a moment, and my heart starts to sink, and the words “brain damage” flash through my head like lightning, and I ache. My body aches, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because this is my man, and I will wear his ring because I will love him forever. I will—
He struggles to raise his hand from my grasp, and I let him go. He reaches up and cups my face, his eyes narrowed, almost like he’s angry. He rubs his finger clumsily across my nose and then pulls it away. One finger rises up and shakes as it points at me. You. The hand pulls up and points down at his chest.
“You and me?” I ask. “Yes, it’s you and me. You know that, right?”
He shakes his head, but it seems to be in frustration. He frowns around the tube in his throat and then points at me again and points back down at his chest. His finger stays there for a moment, drawing a shape. I watch, not understanding. I’m almost ready to start shouting for someone, anyone, and I know this is going to be the last moment that I can figure out what he is trying to say.
He knows this, somehow he can see this. His hand flashes out and grips mine and presses it against his chest, and I can feel it then, the heartbeat, the strong beat in his chest that vibrates up through my arm and becomes a roar in my ears. He lifts his hand up again and points at me and then drops his hand and presses mine against his chest.
And then it clicks. He knows me. He remembers me.
You are my heart.
“Otter,” I say. “Otter.” I lay my head down against his chest, and his heart beats in my ear, and he cranes his neck to watch me, and it’s gold and it’s green and it’s him, and as my chest begins to hitch and as I begin to shatter into a million tiny pieces, I have a moment where I thank God, where I tell him that I knew he’d understood that I couldn’t make it without Otter, where I tell him that I don’t know how much longer I could have lasted.
Otter watches me, a look of wonder in his eyes as he touches my face, brushing the tears from my cheeks, reaching down to scrape the ring with his hand.
I need to tell people. I need to tell everyone. I raise my head. “You don’t move,” I g
