Page 19 of Still The One

‘Am I invited to the next game night?’ she asks jokingly.

‘No!’ Jeff, Matty, and Charlie all say in unison.

8

GUY ‘FOSTER’

As soon as I hear the words ‘extubation is a go’, I pull my hand from Eve, but another hand stops me. One stronger than Eve’s.

‘This is normal. Patients waking from a coma while intubated can be confused and combative. Why don’t you wait in the hall while we get this out and examine him,’ a male voice says.

I grab Eve’s hand to keep her close. No way am I doing this without her.Stay, Evie.I try to open my eyes to see her. Ouch! Bad idea. Retreat. Light hurts. Wait, no, I have to do this. I squint. Blinking a few times, attempting to get Eve’s attention.

‘His eyes are open!’ Eve says. ‘He also won’t let go of my hand, so I can’t go out in the hall.’

Success! (Eye-burning blindness aside.)

‘Mr Foster.’ A man comes into my blurry gaze, the light I once thought was the white light of death flashing before each eye again. ‘I need you to stay calm while we remove this tube. It’ll be just a few minutes. Breathe through your nose and try to relax.’

I nod as much as I can, my gaze moving to where Eve’s voice has been coming from. I can’t see her clearly, but I know it’s her. She’s got both hands around mine, holding it to her chest, and I can feel her shaking.

Before, when I’d answer ‘would you rather die by drowning or shooting’, I’d choose drowning – seems like a peaceful way to go. But I’d like to change my answer.Please, just shoot me. This is torture.After a few terrifying minutes where I thought I’d die, the death hose has been extracted from my trachea, and I pull in a deep breath. I can’t get enough. Each time, I cough uncontrollably.

‘Let’s slow down the breathing, Mr Foster. Try not to panic.’ The voice of the doctor is calming, and that helps me follow orders. A nurse slips a face mask with air blowing over my face. ‘Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Chelsea will give you something to help you relax a little.’

I do the breathing technique they’re giving me but can’t relax at all because my gaze is locked onto Eve’s. She’s actually here. My wife. Er – ex-wife, but it still counts, considering I was beginning to wonder if her voice was just a hallucination to help me get through this. Now that my eyes are open and I can almost see her clearly, I know every word was real and that she has been here, every single day I have.

‘E…’ I try to say her name when I feel like I’ve caught my breath, but a gravely sounding E is all that leaves my lips.

‘No talking, Mr Foster. Right now, we breathe. Later, we chat,’ the doctor coaches.

‘Focus, Foster. Breathe like this.’ Eve holds my hand tightly to her chest, inhaling deeply, encouraging me to follow along. So I do. I’d probably do anything she asked after dreaming about her for what feels like months.

She’s nice to look at, even prettier than the photo that haunts me. The woman I assume is Chelsea is now injecting something into my IV line and it takes a matter of seconds for the so-called ‘relaxation medication’ to kick in and my mind starts feeling as malleable as putty on a scorching summer sidewalk. It’s like an out-of-body experience, with me hovering over my damagedshell, floating high in the sky.Earth to Foster – don’t fade out yet.I attempt to pull myself back to real life, gripping Eve’s hand, but it’s not happening. How much relaxation do I need? I don’t even know if it’s day or night.

As I lie here, my chest heaving, I feel every second ticking by like hours. Nurses and doctors hurry in and out of the room, their footsteps echoing through the sterile space. But amidst all the chaos, Eve stays, her eyes fixed on me. I can’t help but stare back, completely captivated by her. Every fiber of my being aches, a constant reminder of how fragile life can be. Yet all I can think about is her. She’s different, yet somehow more beautiful than ever.

Despite the temporary pandemonium of the room, it’s as if nothing else exists except the two of us. The rest of the world fades away, and all that’s left is her and me. I want to ask her all the questions that are swirling around in my head. But as I open my mouth to speak, all that comes out is a ragged gasp.

‘Eve, why don’t you talk to him?’ Chelsea suggests.

After a moment of hesitation, she finally speaks up with a timid voice. ‘Oh… um, OK. Hey?’ she says meekly. ‘How’s your day?’ Her adorable, crooked smile hints that she’s teasing me. ‘Honestly, that was terrifying to watch. I thought I was going to witness you taking your last breath more times than once.’ She pauses, swallowing hard. ‘For the record, I’m glad you didn’t.’

Considering her last spoken words to me were, ‘You’ll probably kill yourself on that thing, and I won’t miss you at all,’ it’s a bit bewildering to hear her say that last part.

‘Keep talking, Eve. His vitals are settling. You’re soothing him.’

‘That’s probably just the medication,’ she says, flashing a smart-ass smile. ‘So, did you at least place?’

I lift my good shoulder and nod, implying that of course I did. But honestly, that’s doubtful.

She rolls her eyes playfully.

‘He lived,’ the man wearing the white coat says. ‘Seems like first place to me.’

And I woke up just in time to not listen to the Britney Spears book next. If only I could say that out loud.

‘No Britney.’ I croak the words out, a hair above a whisper, but Eve somehow hears them.

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