Page 38 of Everything We Left Unsaid

“Yeah, that-that’s me.”

“Come with me, dear. I’ll take you to your grandma.” I follow her down the hall in a loop through the unit until we reach her room. “Did the doctor explain to you what happened and what to expect when you see her?”

“Yes. He warned us about the tubes and machines.”

“Good. This can be a little overwhelming and a bit scary if you’re not used to it. I like for the family to be prepared in these situations.” She pauses for a moment to let me collect myself before asking, “Are you ready?”

I nod, unable to speak, my airway already constricting with fear and sadness. She opens the door and slides the curtain to one side. When she steps out from in front of me, I gasp. Nothing she or the doctor told me could’ve prepared me for the sight before me.

“Enisi!” I cry, rushing to her bedside, afraid to touch her but needing to reach out and comfort her. I hover my hand above her cheek, but the tube jutting out of her mouth gives me pause. I don’t want to mess anything up, so I settle for holding her hand.

“I’m so sorry,” I plead, lying my head down beside her, my cheek resting against her knuckles. Tubes and cables poke out from under her sheet and I follow them with my eyes, wondering where they lead but afraid of how they connect to her. They plug into a machine situated at the foot of her bed, a screen with lines and numbers I don’t understand glowing in the dim lighting of her hospital room. A strange galloping, puffing sound comes from the machine, but otherwise, it’s quiet. I return my gaze to her face and choke back a sob. The tube crammed into her throat is the only thing that’s keeping her breathing. She’s on life support. “I’m so, so sorry,” I repeat. “I shouldn’t have left you. I should’ve known something was wrong. Please forgive me.”

Two nurses I hadn’t noticed before mill about, one hanging bags of fluid on her IV pole, the other jotting down numbers from the monitor next to my grandmother’s bed.

“We’ll be out of your hair in no time,” the nurse with the IV fluids promises. “I’ll give you guys some privacy, but if you need anything, just press this button.” She motions to the red nurse call light on the bed rail and I nod my head in understanding. “I’m Julie, by the way. I’ll be here all night.”

She starts to leave, but I call to her before she walks out the door. “Can she hear me?” I ask. “I mean, if I talk to her, will she know what I’m saying?”

“Maybe,” she answers honestly. “The mind can be tricky. It’s unpredictable at times, but it can also surprise us. Many people have reported hearing everything while unconscious. It never hurts to try.”

I thank her before she leaves, my chest filling with hope. Turning back to her bed, I squeeze my grandmother’s hand gently and begin to talk to her. “Hey, enisi. It’s me, Abby.” I shake my head, feeling like an idiot. Of course she knows it’s me. She knows my voice. But does she remember? Fear lances through me and a sour feeling churns my stomach. What if she doesn’t remember? Could she have amnesia when she wakes up? Can that happen after having a heart attack?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you. I wanted to make everything perfect for our family dinner. Everyone was gonna be there. The most important people in my life were gonna be together in one room, and all I could think about was making sure everything was just right,” I confess. My grandmother, Chloe, Ethan, Tiff, and Jacob were going to be there, sharing a family meal together for the first time, and I was blinded by the picturesque vision in my head. “And I left you when you were vulnerable to fulfill my own needs. I’m such a shitty granddaughter,” I add, my guilt getting the better of me. “Sorry,” I apologize for cussing.

“I don’t know if you know this, but Jacob was with you when you passed out. He took care of you until the ambulance got there.” I don’t mention the CPR part just in case she can hear me. That might upset her. “He really did us a solid,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.

“Anyway, I hope you can hear me and know how much I love you. I can’t wait for you to wake up so we can talk and you can see Chloe. I know she’s gonna miss you something awful while you’re in here. But for right now, I just need you to focus on getting better,” I implore.

I need her to recover. I need her to be okay. I can’t lose her. She’s my rock, the one person on whom I’ve always been able to rely. I don’t know what I’d do without her and I’m not ready to find out.

I leave my grandmother’s room with my heart in my throat, my soul wrenched by guilt and pain. In a daze, I return to the waiting room with a desire to hold my little girl in my arms and cling to something good, something that brings only joy. My breath hitches when I see them. Chloe is curled up, asleep on Jacob’s lap, her cheek pressed against his chest and her back cradled in his strong arms. I swallow past the lump in my throat and force my feet to move.

“Hey there,” Jacob greets in a whisper when I approach. “How is she?”

“Hanging in there.” My chin quivers and tears sting my eyes for what feels like the millionth time today. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her.” I cover my face with my hands and cry in earnest, the strain of this day bearing down on me like a weight I’m too weak to carry.

“Shh, come here.” Jacob reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me down into the chair next to his. He wraps his free arm around my shoulder and tucks me in close to his side. “She’s going to be okay,” he assures me. “She’s a strong woman with an iron will.” He’s right about that. “Plus, she has you. She’ll make it through this.”

We sit there for a while, Chloe and I wrapped in his arms as I try to soak up his strength. He told me Tiff and Ethan left shortly after I went back to see my grandmother, so it’s just the three of us now. Once I finally regain my composure, I stand and stretch. “I can take her now. I need to get her home.” I hold out my arms for Jacob to hand over Chloe.

“I don’t mind. I can carry her to the car. The fewer times we move her, the better.”

He’s right. I’m better off just letting him hold her. I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally.

“Thank you,” I offer gratefully. As we walk to the parking lot, the sun sinking and the sky darkening, a concerning thought pops into my mind. “How did you get her here, anyway?” Please tell me he had her in a car seat! I pray that in all the commotion, he didn’t do something reckless and put our daughter in harm’s way.

“I stole your grandma’s car,” he deadpans. The absurdity of his statement makes me giggle, and the release I feel from that giggle makes me laugh even harder. Jacob chuckles, amused by my mirth. “Her keys were in her purse when I dumped it on the table. Since she already had a car seat in her car, I decided to just borrow it. I didn’t think anyone would mind.”

Once again I doubted him, yet he rose to the occasion. That thought sobers me and I stop short. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have questioned you. You’ve been,” I pause, looking for the right word, “a pleasant surprise,” I finish lamely.

“Thanks,” he replies uncertainly. “I think.”

“No, it’s a compliment. You’ve been wonderful with Chloe. I’m glad you came back.” When we reach my car, we remember Chloe’s car seat is still in my grandmother’s car and agree that he’ll drive her home since he needs to pick up his SUV anyway. I follow Jacob across the parking lot to the tan Oldsmobile my grandmother has owned since before I moved in with her.

When we reach the rear passenger door, we stop and face each other. His eyes search mine for a moment before he steps closer to me, the arm holding our daughter brushing against my chest. His opposite hand comes up to cup the side of my face and his fingers slide to the back of my neck, tilting my face toward his. His blue eyes flash to my mouth and back to my eyes, widening in anticipation and hunger. I don’t pull away. I don’t try to stop him. I just let it happen. His mouth descends slowly on mine and he kisses me softly, a gentle flick of his tongue against my lips.

“I’m glad I came back, too,” he says after he pulls away.

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