Page 48 of Tossing It

Chapter Eighteen

Malena

There is a crowd of doctors and nurses surrounding Leif’s hospital room door when I fall out of the elevator. Eva flies into my arms, wrapping me in a tight hug. “No one believed me. He’s going to be okay. I know it.”

Her excitement is contagious. I have to remind myself about Celia and her words. She works in the medical field. This is her life most days. Eva is living on a prayer, and even if I want to partake in this particular prayer, I can’t. “Tell me everything,” I say, pulling back to look at Eva’s eyes. “What did the doctor say?”

She shakes her head, an incredulous gleam to her eye. “That he’s waking up. Right now. We won’t know what we’re dealing with until he’s completely conscious, but he’s breathing. All on his own.”

What if that’s the only thing he can do on his own. “Let’s take it one step at a time.” Swallowing, I let my gaze slip to his door. It’s poisonous. This hope I feel blooming inside my chest. “Will they talk to me?”

“Yes,” Eva counters. “I am responsible for his medical decisions, technically my parents were, but they handed it over to me when they realized I was better equipped to deal with these decisions. I’ll tell them you’re family.” She releases me and bounds over to the nurse who must be in charge and then nods her head my way. I hold up a shaky hand and approach.

With soulful eyes, the nurse takes my hand when I’m standing in front of his room. “It may not be as you hope. As your sister hopes,” she says. “This is good news, but it’s not a foregone conclusion. Nine months is a long time to be unconscious.”

I nod, trying to peek over her shoulder into the room. Eva is already in there, her cell phone pressed to her ear telling the story to whoever she’s on the line with. In a rush, Eva squeals, “His eyes are open. They’re open.”

The next few steps into his room feel leaden—the most difficult steps I’ve ever taken. If I don’t leave this room with the same hope I entered with, I’ll never be the same again. The atmosphere has changed, the buzz of energy drives my heart rate up. There’s life between these walls that didn’t exist mere hours ago. My gaze falls to Leif’s face—the gaunt planes sharp, his skin the color of chalk. His lashes are fluttering, and in another step, I’m able to glimpse the ocean blue of his eyes and I close the distance to stand as close as I can to him. He’s surrounded by doctors.

Eva’s voice prattles on in the background, and the doctors are practically shouting Leif’s name at this point, asking if he can hear them. They’re checking vitals, with wild, confused gazes. They work with grit and determination. So soft, I can barely hear my own voice, I say, “I need to try something.”

Clearing my throat, I say it again, louder this time.

“Who are you?” a doctor asks.

“Malena,” I say, my gaze on Leif’s face. “Winterset. My last name is Winterset.”

Eva chimes in. “She’s his baby’s mother.”So delicately put, Eva, I think. “I gave permission for her to be in the room. He’d want her here.

They make room for me on the right side of the bed. I sit, taking his hand. “I need to try something.” Leif squeezes my hand. It’s no different than before, except now his face is clear of tubes and I’m granted a full view. A chill rises up my spine. He looks so different. Closing my eyes, I envision him the last time I saw him. The last night we spent together in his apartment before he snuck away in the morning and left me with a ring. His wide jaw that ticks when he smiles. His eyes that crinkle in the corner when he laughs. I think of the man he was before when he was in love with me. I recognize I’m feeling so wistful because when and if he wakes up, he might decide he doesn’t want me, that my lies were too much to get over. In his ear, I say, “I need to try something right now.”

Then, I kiss his closed lips. They’re still full, the only things on his face that look the same. I feel his warm breaths push out of his nose, a ragged, out of practice, speed. It reminds me of when Luna took her first breaths. A nurse sets her hand on my shoulder, but I hear someone else say, “Let her. He’s responding. He’s responding.”

I pull my mouth off his and watch his blue eyes search my face. He closes them for another thirty seconds and I think that’s it. He’s gone, if he was ever really back. Eva sits next to me, one hand squeezing mine like a vise. Turning, I look at her, my gaze teary. That’s when I see his parents. They are standing in the back of the room, pain etched across their faces. “I’m so sorry,” I say.

“Stop it. This is amazing progress,” Eva says.

“Eva,” I say, grabbing her hand. “There’s a possibility he’s not in there. Will never be inside there again. I love this man with everything I have and I have to accept that this shell, this broken shell that housed the perfect man will never be in there again. You have to understand.”

Eva looks crestfallen as she pulls her hand out of mine. “You have no right,” she counters.

“I have every right. I lived with a woman who wasn’t inside of her own head for most of my life. I understand exactly what that means. Grieving a person while they’re still alive is torture. It’s a technicality. A horrible, disgusting technicality. A beating heart does not mean recognition.” I shake my head, memories of my mother flooding my awareness. “Breathing doesn’t mean love. It just means life. Life altered. Never the same again.”

“You’ll give up on him that easily? I should have known better. You ran the first second the going got tough, the very first chance you had to run from him, you did. You used a photo. One that I took, might I add.”

My stomach sinks and tears prick my eyes. “You took those photos? You followed me?”

She has the good sense to look guilty. “We protect our own in this family. I’ll have you know I followed you because I was worried about you because I’d heard your mom was sick. What I found was anything other than a worried woman.”

Wasn’t I grateful for those photos? They gave me the opportunity to break it off with Leif in a painless manner. The scapegoat. “I can’t believe you would do that, Eva. I’ve never given you a reason to doubt my loyalties. What you caught was a jaded moment that should have been private.”

“I understand that now,” she whispers. “I wish I could take it back, I do. You lied to him. To all of us.”

I throw my hands up. “No one ever asked if I was married. It was a non-issue. I never loved Dylan. I never loved Dylan.” Damn, that feels good to say. “I never loved Dylan,” I yell.

Eva stays silent.

“I love Leif. I’ll never love anyone other than Leif,” I yell. The nurses and doctors turn to my boisterous declaration, trying and failing to pretend they aren’t listening to every single word of our conversation.

You could hear a pin drop in this moment. It feels like every person in this room is holding their breath. No one speaks. The monitor beeps, giving a reading of Leif’s blood pressure. His heart rate monitor beeps at precise intervals.

Leif groans. And every set of eyes train on him. My own heart rate would set off every monitor on planet earth. He mumbles something, but his throat is dry and his tongue out of practice.

“He’s trying to talk,” Eva says. “What’s he saying?” Our argument is all but forgotten for the moment. That’s how it works with family. You move on after fights. You fight for the common good. Our fight turns to the man in the hospital bed.

Disuse has destroyed his voice box. The doctor leans over and narrows his eyes. “What was that?”

Slowly, Leif’s blue gaze flicks to meet mine. I’m sure I look like a wild animal—a crazy person without the ability to control her emotions. “Why,” he says, broken into two scratchy syllables.

I hold my breath. My heart pounding against my ribcage furiously.

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