Page 84 of Dash

Dash stands in front of me in an all-white tux and a proud smile on his face. His shaggy hair is slicked back and his gray eyes are shining into mine.

Never in a million years would I have guessed that I married a man who I once had a one-night stand with. But, somewhere, our story fell together as if a puzzle. It was made to be. We just fit.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? As long as you both shall live?” the preacher asks Dash.

“I do,” his deep voice says, and my smile grows bigger as another tear falls down my face.

He reaches up and runs the back of his thumb over my cheek wiping it away. “I will forever wipe your tears away,” he whispers, and it just makes another fall.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

I’m pulled out of my dream as my head falls forward and a small snore comes out of my mouth. I reach up to wipe the drool off my chin and push my unbrushed hair off my face. It’s a dream that I continue to have every time I close my eyes. But it’s become a nightmare. Hanging me.

I haven’t left the hospital since I got here, five days ago. My mom showed up while Dash was still in surgery. She brought all of us a change of clothes and brought me some bathroom products. Even she knew Dash was going to be in here for a while and that I wasn’t going to leave his side. My father pulled out all the stops and got the largest room possible, and I refuse to leave, afraid as soon as I do that he’ll wake up. And I wanna be the first person to see those beautiful gray eyes. I wanna be the first one to hold his hand and tell him it’s all gonna be okay.

His room smells like flowers—so much to the point where it makes me nauseous. The wreck has been all over the news and the gifts, flowers, and balloons have been pouring in from all of his fans to wish him well.

I remove the blanket from my legs and walk over to his bed. I grab his hand; I swear it gets colder every day. I softly run my hand through his long shaggy hair as I look at the tube that is down his throat—the ventilator that is keeping him alive. But I know he’ll fight it. He’s a fighter. “Good morning, sweetie,” I say softly. “Wake up for me, baby,” I whisper giving him a kiss on his forehead. I then sit down next to him. “I have a confession. I know what errand you were out doing.” I smile. “I still haven’t opened it, though. I don’t wanna ruin your surprise.” I give a little laugh. “I still expect you to get down on one knee, ya know? I expect a big display of love.” I sigh. “I’m sure you had planned on doing it at your party.” I know him very well, and I would bet everything I have that he was going to make that party about us and not his racing. He’s sneaky like that. “You do you know that Dad is just going to throw you another one when you get out of here? You can do it then,” I tell him. I lean down where my face is close to his. “But I have a little secret for you, too. I’m going to say yes.” I softly kiss the side of his face before I pull back and look at him. He’s almost unrecognizable. His face is swollen and bruised. The left side of his head is shaved where they had to open it up to relieve the pressure off his brain so the swelling could go down. His collarbone is broken, along with his right knee. His right ankle is shattered along with his left wrist. The car that hit him head-on wasn’t paying attention. They were speeding and somehow went across the center median. A car that was behind Dash, who witnessed it, said he never even saw it coming. I hope that he didn’t feel any pain. I pray that he wasn’t awake for any of it. A part of me, the selfish part, wants him to wake up and see that I’m here. The other part of me wants him to stay asleep, to just sleep through all the pain and wake up once he heals.

I stand up, lean down to give him a soft kiss on his bruised face, and then pull away. I go back over to the couch and grab my bag before walking into the bathroom that is connected to his room. I wash my ashen face with some cold water and start to brush my teeth. I change out of one pair of yoga pants for a clean pair and a fresh t-shirt. I step back out of the room and see his parents along with my dad now standing in his room. His parents, who have only been here twice. I hate them more every time I see them.

“Good morning,” I say trying to give them all a soft smile. I’ve really been holding it together pretty well. I have my moments where I break down but, for the most part, I try to stay happy for him. I know he can hear me, and he needs to know that when he wakes up, I’m gonna be here for him.

“Tabatha…” My father’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a step toward him. “Did they get the results back?” I ask in a panic. They keep testing him. I’m not sure what for, but I heard one nurse say something about brain activity.

His mother goes to speak, but a nurse walks into the room and closes the door. We all stand quietly and I can feel the pressure in the room start to build. I can literally hear a humming in my head.

I jump back like someone shocks me when the nurse pulls the blinds shut, closing out the rest of the hospital. “How long will it take?” his mom, asks as tears run down her face.

“How long will what take?” I demand. “What are you doing?”

“Tabatha…they’ve made a decision,” my father says as he turns to face me.

My heart stops and my knees wobble. “Please don’t do this,” I cry walking over to his mother. My father wraps his arms around me. “Please don’t do this,” I beg.

“Come on, Tabatha.” My father gently pulls me toward the door, and I realize he wants me to leave. I start to fight him, but he tightens his arms around me.

“I’m his wife,” I yell as I hold up my left hand but realize I haven’t opened the box. “I won’t allow this,” I shout furious. How can they do this? I have rights. I’m going to be his wife; I have rights.

The nurse has an instant look of panic on her face and looks at Dash’s father. He leans over to whisper in her ear, and she looks at me with pity in her soft blue eyes. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, but…”

“No,” I try to say but I don’t have enough breath to even say the two letter word.

His mom looks at me with anger in her eyes. As if I’m making a scene when she is the one who is about to kill her own son. “He’s gone,” she declares as she straightens her back. Like she has to have some kind of fucking pride.

“No,” I shout making his mother jump. “He just needs more time,” I say as my eyes look back over at him lying in the hospital bed. He looks so helpless. Just lying there as if he’s begging me to fight for him. “Please,” I beg, looking at his mother. “He can fight this,” I cry. “Miracles happen every day.” I try to push my father off me once again, but he holds me tightly. “I beg you. Please don’t do this to him.” They’ve been talking about this since he came out of surgery. The odds of him ever waking up. And the odds of him breathing without the ventilator. Without it, he will die. He needs to wake up before they try to remove it. He’s not awake yet, though.

“I’m sorry…” his mother cries.

“You’re gonna kill him!” I shout angrily. My father starts to move as he drags me out of the room, and I try to fight him. Try to grab on to anything that will keep me closer to Dash. But I find nothing. He slams the door shut with his foot, and I cry out.

A man comes running up to us as I scratch at the window that separates me from Dash. Those stupid curtains block my view of him. “I can sedate her.”

“No,” my father growls and the man runs off.

I turn to face my dad. I grab a hold of his shirt and force him to look down at me. “Please don’t let them do this, Daddy,” I sob. “I love him.”

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