Page 68 of Giovanni
His words hang heavy in the space between us, a poignant reminder of the commitment we just made to each other yesterday. It’s startling how fast things change. But at this moment, surrounded by the stark reality of a hospital room, my health, and his betrayal, his declaration feels like a distant echo of a happier time.
As he turns to leave, a profound loss washes over me. His quiet footsteps resound on the floor, replaced by the swooshing of the door. The room feels emptier and more sterile, plunging me back to an old, lonely life I thought I had left behind.
The nurse, a young woman with a kind face and gentle eyes, enters the room first, looking around for Giovanni and then smiling at me. She’s followed closely by a middle-aged man dressed in a white coat with his name embroidered across the front. His forehead is marked by faint lines that speak of years spent in medicine. He approaches my bed, hand outstretched to make introductions.
“Ms. Yacob, I’m Dr. Matthews. It’s good to see you awake and alert.”
He nods to the nurse, who has a bottle of something in her gloved hand, as she scans the wristband below my IV.
“We’re rather concerned about your blood pressure. It’s considerably high, which is a matter we take very seriously. Wehoped it would come down while you rested, but since it hasn’t, we will give you some medicine to help.”
A knot of worry forms in my stomach.
“Couldn’t it be higher because I’m in here? My general practitioner warned me of this, but I’ve made some changes this week, started working out and eating better.”
My voice is shaky, betraying my growing anxiety. He glances at the monitor, then back at me with a measured look.
“This is something you are aware of? Have you been on anything to help while making these lifestyle changes?”
“Um, no. We didn’t think it was that serious.”
I remember a forgotten call from the doctor’s office lingering on my voicemail from earlier this week. Perhaps it was about putting me on meds once they got my labs back?
“It is significant. We need to monitor you closely to ensure your blood pressure comes down to a safer level. That means staying with us for a day or two. Although the changes are positive and necessary for all of us for heart health, avoidance of diabetes, stress, alcohol, and hereditary factors are big contributors.”
He launches into potential causes of my high blood pressure while I speculate that a recent and unexpected emotional surprise might be a contributing factor. Dr. Matthews addresses this by explaining that while emotional stress can cause a temporary spike in blood pressure, it typically doesn’t sustain high levels over a long duration like mine.
He notes that supportive, healthy relationships can help lower blood pressure and provide other mental and physical health benefits. He is basically debunking my blame of Giovanni and his actions.
Instead, he zeroes in on my career, the same as Dr. Patel did, and it’s like hearing a record on repeat. I stay silent when he asks about recent changes in my workload that could becausing additional stress. Bringing up Friday’s incident will just reinforce his point. I shift the conversation to my aching head, where they stitched up a gash and concluded that I didn’t have a concussion. My fingers instinctively drift to the area, tender to the touch, while he advises me of the treatment plan.
Once they finish and leave the room, I’m alone with my thoughts. Mulling over the new information with what I thought I knew proves and disproves my theories. I blamed Giovanni for this hospitalization, yet hearing from the doctor, it was inevitable without medication. My relationship with Giovanni, which I thought was adding to my stress, might benefit me in multiple ways.
Despondent over everything and feeling exhausted, I lower the head of my bed, noticing my phone and wristlet sitting on the corner of the tray table. How did these get here? Heck, I didn’t even think to ask how I got here. Who found me? I gaze at the wall, trying to remember what happened between falling and waking up here with Giovanni, but my mind is entirely blank. I grab my phone, noticing its battery is nearly drained, and there’s a string of messages from my colleagues. Quickly, I text Ethan, giving him a brief rundown of my situation, the name of the hospital, and my room number. Then, I dial my co-counsel, leaving a voicemail about my accident last night, asking her to call me back with any updates on our case.
This situation is a complete disaster. Being sidelined like this couldn’t have come at a worse time. During my unexpected absence, I fret about who will take over my caseload. My mind meticulously analyzes each case, contemplating their respective statuses, necessary witness confirmations, and upcoming hearings scheduled within the week.
Dr. Bennett’s case is of particular concern, given his stringent availability—he can only appear one day this month, which, unfortunately, falls within this week. This unforeseen hospitalstay poses a significant risk to the careful planning and coordination of these legal proceedings.
The phone by my bedside suddenly rings, breaking into my thoughts. I answer it to find my paralegal on the other line, and she also gets Ethan looped into the call. Over the next hour, we meticulously review all my cases, discussing each in detail.
My paralegal takes diligent notes as I give instructions and make decisions from my hospital bed. With his usual efficiency, Ethan offers to step in where needed, helping to alleviate some of my concerns about Dr. Bennett, this week’s docket, and other pressing matters. The conversation is exhaustive but necessary, ensuring that everything is under control in my absence and spiking my blood pressure again.
The monitor’s alarm blares sharply, prompting the nurse to rush into my room. She quickly resets the machine and then casts a disapproving look at the phone in my hand. Seizing the opportunity, I use her arrival as a reason to wrap up the call.
“I have to go,” I say, feeling a twinge of guilt with their well wishes echoing in the receiver when I hang up.
“You really should be resting, not working. It’s not helping your condition.”
The nurse, still frowning, reinforces her point. I nod in agreement, albeit reluctantly, understanding the validity of her advice. The call has been productive but also a clear confirmation of the strain my job is putting on my health.
As the dining service brings in my breakfast tray, I realize I need a nap more than a meal. The effort of resolving work matters has left me drained. Yet, with those immediate concerns temporarily put to rest, my thoughts inevitably drift back to Giovanni and how miserable he looked when I asked him to leave.
As I ponder Giovanni’s explanation—the situation is not as it appears. Jenna made a pass at him, and he resisted. I reach formy phone. With trepidation, I zoom in on the photo for a closer inspection. Jenna’s arms are wrapped around his neck while his hands rest on her waist, maintaining a noticeable space between their bodies.
The ambiguity of the image gnaws at me. Is she pulling him toward her lips, or is he willingly leaning into the kiss? The photo leaves room for interpretation, but either way, it depicts him in an intimate moment with another woman. This, by any definition, falls under infidelity, especially since we had committed to being exclusive to each other the same day this happened. This realization exacerbates the throbbing in my skull more intensely than the pain from the cut on the back of my head. My heart sinks further with the realization that I need to end things with him since the trust we shared has been broken.
I place my phone on the tray table beside my untouched breakfast and close my eyes, finally allowing myself to rest since waking up in this nightmarish situation. I’m roused from my sleep by the gentle rustle of movement. Opening my eyes, I see a hospital staff member carefully placing a stunning arrangement of delicate pink roses and white lilies, their sweet fragrance subtly filling the room. The bouquet is adorned with five cheerful ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons, dancing lightly in the air.
