Page 66 of Sparking Sara

He pulls out a bottle of champagne. “I even brought us some bubbly.”

Donovan comes walking into the room, eyeing the champagne. “I’d be happy to keep that on ice for you until the doctor clears her to drink.”

“She can’t drink?” he asks.

“She shouldn’t,” Donovan says. “It’s still very early in her recovery.”

Oliver waves him off, pulling two glasses from his bag. “One glass can’t hurt.”

“Actually, it can,” Donovan says. “Sara is working very hard to reestablish the connections between her neurons. Alcohol can and will affect her ability to do that, even temporarily. You don’t want any setbacks in her progress now, do you?”

Oliver looks at the bottle in his hands. “Well, bullocks. I guess it’ll have to wait, hun.” He hands the bottle to Donovan. “For the day she gets to come home.”

Donovan nods. “I think we’ll all have a drink on that fine occasion.”

Oliver proceeds to retrieve a large spread of food from his bag.

“I brought all your favorites,” he says. “Tofu-spinach lasagna with a side of stuffed peppers. And for dessert, black bean brownies.”

Sara looks anything but excited about the food placed in front of her.

Oliver feeds her as he tells her about their travels together. I begin to feel like a third wheel, as I often do when Oliver is here. But for the first time, I realize I’m not okay with it.

“I’ll see you guys later, then,” I say. “I’ll make good on those burgers another day. Okay, Sara?”

She nods sadly before taking the bite of lasagna Oliver is shoveling into her mouth.

“Bye now,” I say on my way out the door. But what I really want to tell him is that he doesn’t need to feed her anymore. If he’d been paying attention, he’d see she’s getting back a lot of her fine motor skills. But I keep my mouth shut because there’s the whole stepping-on-toes thing.

“Thanks for filling in when I can’t be here, mate,” Oliver says.

Filling in.

The way he says it is like he thinks I’m doinghima favor. I can’t quite figure him out. He acts like he wants to be here, but then he only bothers showing up for an hour or two at a time. I get that he’s busy and he has a job he needs to keep, and I even get that some people just hate hospitals and being around sick people. But there’s something about him I just can’t put my finger on.

Chapter Sixteen

Sara walked twice as far today as she did yesterday, with minimal help. There was no guy on the floor telling her which foot to move. No wheelchair following her with every step. Donovan told me she’s improving quickly. He said if this keeps up, she may only be here another week or two. I’m not sure why I feel like that’s not necessarily a good thing. Two weeks. She has two weeks to get used to the idea of going home with a stranger.

“How are her oxygen levels?” I ask the nurse when she does her rounds.

“Good,” she says. “I have every reason to believe the doctor will remove the trach today.”

When the nurse helps Sara to the bathroom, Sara requires little help. Over the course of only one day, she’s graduated from using a walker to simply having a belt tied around her waist for support as someone walks beside her. She takes slow, careful steps, but does it all on her own. Before she disappears around the corner in the bathroom, she shoots me a smirk. One that tells me she’s proud of herself.

I’m glad to see her in such a good mood. Two days ago, when Joelle called me, they were worried about her falling into depression. I’ve seen little evidence of that.

Donovan has her do more painting before lunch. She’s making incredible improvements with her fine motor skills.

I decide to sneak out and run some errands during her sessions with the cognitive and speech therapists. I promised the woman a burger, and she’s going to get one. And since Oliver is coming for dinner, probably with some hideous bean and tofu crap, lunch is our only option.

~ ~ ~

When I return a few hours later, I have two bags with me.

Sara is sitting in a chair, looking through the pile of pictures Oliver brought her yesterday. Pictures of them. She puts down one of them and looks longingly out the window.

I find it hard not to stare at her. Apparently, she got the trach out while I was gone. She’s now free of all tubes and wires. She has a small bandage where it once was. I wonder if she’s worried about the scar it will leave. But I know she’ll still be just as beautiful.

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