Page 37 of Begin Again
ANNIE
June - August 2023
“Could you explain the surgery to me again?” I ask the surgeon one last time. Sam is already getting prepped for surgery and I follow the surgeon out into the hallway.
“Of course.” His doctor gives me a smile as if he’s seen this before—a concerned wife wanting to know all about what’s going to happen to her husband. I can’t explain why I feel so nervous. The doctor assured Sam that everything was going to be fine, but still, I know that Sam was hiking when he hurt his back and that he was about to rock climb a cliffside when he slipped and landed ten feet down on his back.
I want to hear about it again. “Sam has a herniated disk, which is what is causing him a lot of pain. I’ll be doing a nucleoplasty which simply means I put a needle into the disk and then a laser does the work of vaporizing the tissue and relieving pressure on the nerves.”
“And it’s a good solution?” I ask again.
The doctor nods. “His herniated disk is mild, so this surgery will be minimally invasive and should help with the pain. He’llbe back to his normal activities in the next eight to twelve weeks, with some normal activity in three to six weeks. If all goes well, he won’t have to have any other surgeries.”
“Thank you, Doctor Miller,” I say and head back into Sam’s room.
He smiles when he sees me.
“You ready to be out of pain?” I ask.
“Definitely. Can you believe they don’t even completely put me out for the surgery? I mean, I’ll be sleepy and get numbed where they stick the needle in, but I get to go home today.”
The nurse and doctor both mentioned this and I still can’t believe that you can have back surgery and be home later that day.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” I tell him. I’m feeling too many feelings right now and I’m not ready to share them. I can stick with the simple things, the things that are happening right in front of me. Like his surgery.
But I’m not about to talk about how it all makes me feel. I can’t even think about it. I haven’t thought about the realization I had before we got married—the fact that I love him—and I definitely haven’t thought about our kiss after the ceremony.
And by definitely haven’t I mean it’s less than a thousand times. Probably.
He gives me a wry grin, as if he knows that I’m thinking about our kiss. “See you later, sunshine,” he calls as they wheel him out of the room.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him for what feels like the millionth time in the past three weeks. His surgery went well and he seems to be doing okay, like right now he’s rearranging his bookshelf,which doesn’t seem like something he should be doing so soon after having surgery.
“I’m fine,” he answers without looking at me.
“I could organize your books for you,” I offer. “I could even bring out some of mine.” The words slip out. As if my brain wants us to start cohabitating in a way that is more like the newlyweds we are than the roommates we’ve always been.
He looks up at me with a sly grin, the same one he gave me right before his surgery. “You should bring out some of your books, I’ve seen your shelf, it’s overflowing. There’s plenty of space on this one.”
I shouldn’t have said anything. But he is looking at me now as if he’s waiting for me to back down, as if he’s waiting for me to admit my bluff or tell the truth. Sighing, I head down the hall to my room and scan my bookshelf.
Books are such a personal thing, and sharing them in the same space as someone else when I haven’t ever done that feels terrifying. I select a few of my well worn favorites and bring them out to the living room.
“Here.” I set them down by one of his piles.
He snorts. “That’s it? You afraid of what it means if our books are on the same shelf?”
“No.” I fold my arms defensively. “I just don’t want to take up too much of your space.”
I watch as he licks his lips before looking up at me from his seat on the ground. “Alright,” he says, “we can go with that. For now.”
I take a startled step back. Is he flirting with me?
“Alright,” I say back as naturally as possible, but my skin is covered in goosebumps as I turn away. Could he and I actually make this marriage thing work? Do I even want it to work?
It’s nearly dark when I get home from work, but Sam looks up at me from sitting on the couch when I walk into the apartment.
“How was work?” he asks as I drop my bag and keys and slip off my shoes.
