Page 158 of Unspoken Words
“No.”
“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
“How ‘bout you? You all right?”
Chris shook his head, leaned forward, and gazed down at his hands that were steepled between his knees. “No. That’s my sister in there. My Elliephant. I’ve never seen her so fragile and helpless, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
The leaves on the trees and shrubs dotting the garden rustled with the breeze. I closed my eyes and took in that much needed air.
“She died, Chris. Twice. Right in front of my eyes.” I choked back a sob. “I can’t let that happen again.”
“I know, mate. And it won’t.”
“You don’t know that. Her heart is …” I paused then shook my head, “It’s not strong enough for the rest of her. She’s gonna need surgery, and soon.”
“I know, but this is Ellie we’re talking about. Stubborn, know-it-all, fierce, protective, Ellie. When she sets her mind to something, you’ll be arsed tryin’ to change it.”
The glass door to the garden opened, and a middle-aged man in a leather jacket found a spot under a tree and lit up a smoke. I glared at the fucker. Why could he smoke and be fine when Ellie had never touched one and was dying? I bet the ungrateful jerk drank, didn’t exercise, and ate greasy shit all day every day as well. I bet he was fit as a fiddle and took it all for fucking granted.
Dipping my head, I focussed on my boots before I lost my cool and did something stupid, like butt his smoke on his friggin’ head. None of what was happening made sense, and it sure as shit wasn’t fair.
“You’re gonna be a dad again, mate, and I’m gonna be an uncle.”
My chest tightened at Chris’s words, my eyes burning with tears. One slid from my cheek and dropped, a perfect dot dampening the leather of my boot. “I hope so,” I said, wiping my eyes. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Chris stood up, and his sneakers came into view as he stopped beside me, his hand landing on my shoulder, his grip firm and somewhat reassuring. I waited for him to speak, to say something wise—which he always somehow managed—but he didn’t say anything.
He couldn’t. No one could. Because it was what it was.
*
Later that night,the soundof Ellie’s ECG was a consistent rhythm, like the bounce of a ball, a bounce I kept hearing as if to remind me that wedolose the ones we love. I shifted in my seat by her bed, my body stiff, sore and restless. Beth, Roger, and Chris had left hours earlier and would be back bright and early in the morning, but I couldn’t leave—I wouldn’t. I’d attached myself to that damn ECG machine like glue. Alert. Ready. Prepared. For any skip, any pause, I’d hear it, and I’d take action and prevent Ellie’s heart from stopping again. She’d given it to me, twice, and I would protect it in every way possible.
Bounce.
Beep.
Bounce.
Beep.
“Enough,” I said out loud before closing my eyes, sucking in a deep breath and then opening them.Enough. No more bouncing. No more fear.
Ellie’s chest rose and held still before it slowly fell with a tempered exhale. I focussed on her breathing, how her red curls rested peacefully on her pillow, and how her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. She was so beautiful and strong, so … fearless.
Following the line of her arm, I took in how her hand lay covering her belly. Maternal. Protective. Instinctive. It was how I felt about her. And although I was terrified of what lay ahead, unlike with Aaron, I wouldnotshut down this time, nor would I pretend none of it was happening. If Ellie had taught me one thing it was that my experience with Aaron did not have to be my experience as a whole, that life, love, and death were one and the same yet never the same. She’d taught me to seize every opportunity and moment we were given, to hold it tight and to never let go.
She’d taught me that life was worth living because there was someone else worth living it with. Always.
“Are you just going to stare at me?”
I glanced up at her heavy, forest green eyes that still managed to sparkle like a ray of light breaking through a canopy of branches. “Yes. I am. Forever. Got a problem with that?” I leaned forward and kissed her lips.
“What if I did?”
“Bad luck.”
She gave me one of her stubborn grizzles, and I chuckled. “Thirsty?”
