Page 14 of Still The One

‘Bad ideas are my secret talent, so I’m not sure why you’re so surprised. Anyway, I gotta go…’ I say, taking my latte from a barista that is not Adam.

‘Update me?’ Kait requests as I leave the shop.

‘Will do,’ I say over my shoulder as I head toward ICU.

Every day since they found out, she and Jess try to talk me out of stopping by to see Foster; what they don’t realize is I’m not just spending an hour a day with the man. I’ve been here from sunup to sundown, just watching him. Counting the beeps of the monitors for hours on end and memorizing all the parts of him I thought I’d forgotten. I had a dream about him last night and that hasn’t happened since I met him.

‘Eve!’ Chelsea greets me with a smile as I approach her. ‘How are you holding up?’

‘I’m good. How is he today?’ I ask, my voice laced with the concern that continues to linger, as I draw near the room where Foster is being treated.

‘There’s been some improvement,’ Chelsea replies, and for a moment, I feel relieved. But then a wave of nervousness washes over me.

‘Improvement?’

She nods. ‘He was wiggling his toes last night – on command,’ Chelsea says.

‘Really?’

Chelsea’s friendly smile grows even wider. ‘I think he may pull out of this sooner rather than later. Come on, I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear your voice again.’

I’m not so sure about that, but I follow her into his room anyway.

‘Oh, he’s got more color,’ I say. Those words leaving my lips surprise me as they’re what my mother always said to my sister and me after we’d been sick. It was like a reflex that I haven’t had in years.

I drop my bag onto the guest chair and approach his bed, brushing his hair from his forehead. His cheeks are pink, and his freckles are prominent this morning. To my surprise, his eyelids flutter at my touch.

‘See,’ Chelsea says, across his bed from me. ‘He even squeezed my hand this morning when I got here. His vitals are good, lab work is improving, and he’s starting to look less corpsey and more human, so I wouldn’t be surprised if his progress is enough to make the doctor ease up on the sedation soon.’

‘How long will it take him to wake up once they start that?’

‘Usually, it’s relatively quick,’ she replies with a smile. ‘He’ll be back to his old self in no time.’

‘Define quick?’ I ask. ‘Five minutes? Five hours? Five days? I’m not usually on this end of these situations.’

Chelsea laughs. ‘Excited to gaze into your husband’s eyes again, are you?’

The thought of this makes me giddy, which turns my stomach a little, making me wonder if this truly is the worst idea ever. I can’t imagine what he will say when he finally wakes up and finds me standing at his bedside.

‘You guessed it,’ I say.

‘How cute are you two?’ she gushes. ‘Every patient is different, so I can’t give you an exact time frame. But, if you’re not here when it happens, then I’ll call you so you can come in.’

‘Great,’ I say, worried. Note to self: block Chelsea’s number. I’m kidding – mostly.

‘Got plans for entertaining him today?’ Chelsea asks.

‘Yes,’ I say, walking to my bag and pulling out my ‘plans’. ‘I’m going to read to him from Matthew Perry’s autobiography and then catch up onBachelor in Paradise. And I brought cards so I can kick his butt at poker.’

‘So sad about Matthew, isn’t it? Gone far too soon. Otherwise, sounds fun! I’ll leave you guys alone and I’ll be back later.’ Chelsea exits the room, leaving just the two of us for the fourth day in a row.

‘Hey, Fost,’ I say, sitting at the chair near his bedside. ‘It’s me again, your “wife” – sorry for lying about that by the way. I just couldn’t let you do this alone, if you’re wondering why I didn’t include the “ex” part of that title. Anyway, today we’re reading about Matthew Perry. I don’t know if you follow anything other than adrenaline-filled sports, but he died recently, and I’m not ashamed to tell you – mostly because you can’t laugh in response – I shed a tear. Truthfully, I turned onFriendsthat night and full-out sobbed for the first few episodes, but then I realized Chandler Bing would live forever with only a click of my remote. Not that you care. If I remember correctly, you aren’t a sitcom watcher. But it’s OK because I know you like music, and if you’re not into this story, next up is the Britney Spears autobiography, and that one will be a wild ride, I bet.’

‘Mr Foster.’ Dr Sully walks in – mid-chapter – greeting Foster cordially. ‘Mrs Foster,’ he says, giving me a knowing look.

‘Ha ha,’ I mouth.

‘I’m hearing good things about your progress.’ Jeremy (aka Dr Sully) looks at Foster’s monitors, does a small exam, listening to his heart and lungs, and then turns to me. ‘How do you feel he’s doing, Nurse Eve?’

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