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He pauses in front of her door. “Are you not going in, Jay?”
He lets out a strangled sob, embracing me. “No. She wants you. They just confirmed it’s pneumonia. I knew this could happen, she’s not strong enough to beat this son, but fuck I know she is going to try for you.”
“What’s going to happen?” I ask, brushing the snot from my nose with the palm of my hand.
He runs both his hands across his face. “They took her off the ventilator. She wanted them to, but she can’t properly breathe on her own anymore; her lungs are too weak.” He tries to hold in a sob.
My body shakes, and my vision blurs as I shut my eyes, leaning against the doorframe. When I open them, I ask, “how long?”
He shakes his head, and I take hold of his hand.
“How long?”
He locks eyes with me. “They don’t know—days, weeks, they can’t say. It differs between patients, they told me. But she’s so tired, son. So goddamn tired. It’s not fair.”
I hold him before he collapses then step back, giving him space. Burying my face in my hand, I slam my foot against the concrete wall. We stare at each other, not saying anything.
When I finally enter her room, she is sleeping, the oxygen tube in her nose. I cup her face, staring at her. Every once in a while her breath stutters, and the machine beeps in response.
She opens her eyes. I smile. “Babe, you had us worried there.”
She reaches out, and with her shaking palm she brushes the hair from my eyes, tracing my wet cheeks with her fist.
“Why aren’t you on a ventilator?” I ask.
She shrugs then smiles, searching my eyes for something.
“Are you ready to go home?”
Her face sobers. I shake my head, frowning. She blinks rapidly, gasping for air.
“Yes,” she rasps, as I bury my face in her chest lying next to her on the bed, silently crying. She kisses my forehead, her lips lingering, and I shiver as I close my eyes.
