***
Repeated shots of talking heads and scrolling stock market information played upon the wall-mounted television; she’d muted the sound the moment the doctor and nurse stepped in to update the charts. They stood at the corner of the bed, whispering back and forth, occasionally glancing at their patient. Some days she felt they treated him more as a case, a statistic, than as a human being. Those days were always harder for her, and only compounded by her utter feeling of helplessness. She wasn’t alone—the medical staff felt just as helpless; both parties could do little but wait and hope.
And hope was something she’d become intensely good at.
For the moment, though, she sat with her left hand in her lap, her right forearm grazing the cool brushed aluminum bed rail as her fingertips tenderly caressed his hand, stopping every so often to gently squeeze his wrist. Outwardly tired and eyes heavy with exhaustion, she steadfastly maintained her vigil, black sweater ever present around her shoulders.
The doctor approached, removing the stethoscope from around his neck. He placed the ear pieces in each ear as he bent over to listen to his patient’s breathing. When finished, he placed the stethoscope back around his neck then jotted a couple of notations on the chart.
“How are you this morning?” he asked with a smile.
“Tired.”
“I bet. Anything happen last night—anything different?”
She wanted so much to have better news, or at least new news. “No. It was another quiet night,” she said dejectedly, “But things will change soon. I know it, without a doubt.”
“I’ve seen many things that I can’t medically explain—good and bad,” he said, brushing his tie aside to slide the pen into his shirt pocket. “But I can tell you without reservation that those who have had a loved one sitting by their side have always done better—so he already has an advantage.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she stated, grinning weakly.
“Good!” He stepped just outside the door and set the chart in the wall file. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Buzz the nurse’s station if you need anything.”
“I will.”
The nurse turned and gave her a warm smile. “If you don’t mind, I’ll come back in a few minutes and keep you company for a bit. I’m caught up for now, unless something else comes in.”
Her eyes lit up. “That would be wonderful! Thank you, I’d certainly enjoy that.” For the first time in over a half a month her face appeared lighter, betraying perhaps the slightest hint of giddiness. The congenial ‘hellos’, ‘good mornings’, and ‘how-are-yous’ traded with the staff each day were nice, but fleeting and mechanical. Having another person to truly interact with—this was a small event in her current world.
“Okay then. I’ll see you in a few,” she said, then turned and disappeared around the corner. The low, steady chirp of the heart rate monitor and occasional chime from the elevator in the hall provided small comfort amidst the heavy silence; yet they seemed far less intrusive for the moment. “We’re going to have company,” she said softly, gently rubbing his shoulder.
Minutes later the nurse returned to find the woman carefully wiping the man’s face with a damp cloth. “You’re doing my job, yet I’m getting paid for it,” she said with a laugh.
“Just seems natural, I suppose,” was the reply. “Please, sit down,” she said, gesturing at the spare chair just feet from her own. “Thank you so much for taking some time to sit with us—it means the world to me.”
“I’d been wanting to, but we’ve been a little busy up ’til now. I know how incredibly lonely it can be to someone in your position. I mean, this,” she said, thrusting her outstretched hand toward the door, “this is my job, my career—but this,” she kindly gestured toward the patient, “this is your life. I wish I had more time to spend like this, but it usually doesn’t work out that way. Now that it has, I’m only too happy to.”
Her answer drew the slightest of smiles from the woman.
“So,” the nurse continued, “how did you find out?
“Find out? About?”
“I’m sorry, the accident.”
She looked down at her lap then adoringly at her husband lying quietly prone beside her. “I remember so clearly,” she began, her eyes welling with tears. “You know, I can remember two weeks ago like it was two minutes, but sometimes I can’t remember what I did half an hour ago.”
“You’re not alone,” said the nurse, trying to lighten the moment a bit.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I never asked your name.” she said, momentarily sidestepping the remainder of her story.
The nurse smiled as she extended her hand. “My full name is Persephone, but please, call me Percy.” The pair shared a warm handshake. “A delight to meet you Percy. I’m Brenda. Were your parents fans of Greek mythology?”
“Daddy is. Turns out I’m a daddy’s girl anyways, so he didn’t need an extravagant name to win my affection,” she smiled.
“But it’s a beautiful name!” Brenda effused.
“Thank you very much.”
“Oh please, I’d talk about your name all day if meant having company, not to take anything away from your name, mind you.”
Percy chuckled. “It’s quite alright. It usually makes for some interesting conversation, I assure you.”
“I imagine,” Brenda said. The two sat still for a moment, only the distant chirp of the phone at the nurses’ station passed between them. Brenda seemed to slump a bit in her chair, though her right hand never left her husbands.
“I apologize if I was too personal before, you know, asking about the…” Percy started.
“No, no, not at all!” Brenda seemed to spring to life again, straightening her posture. “I suppose I stepped off the beaten path for a bit on purpose.”
“If it’s too hard to talk about you really don’t…”
Brenda waved her off. “It’s okay, really. I don’t mind. I really haven’t had anyone to talk to about it, so it’ll be good for me to get it out.”
“If you’re sure?” Percy questioned.
Brenda nodded and smiled. “So,” she began with a deep exhalation, “where was I?”
“I asked how you found out, and you said you remembered it clearly.”
“Yes, absolutely. I’d been stewing—well, fuming actually—over an argument we’d had about an hour before. We rarely argue, but this one was pretty stupid, and he knew it. But for some reason I wouldn’t let it go. He tried apologizing but I kept at him. I guess I was trying to prove to myself I had won the battle.” Brenda swallowed hard; her throat felt tight. “He was beyond frustrated. We barked at each other for a few minutes then he stormed out of the house and into the garage. I didn’t follow him right away, thinking he’d come back to fight some more, and when he didn’t I went after him. I opened the garage door just as he started the car.” She paused and the room again felt more like a library than a hospital.
“He looked right at me, then the car lurched into reverse and he sped out of the driveway. I was so angry at him, I think more because I felt I didn’t get to say everything I wanted. In retrospect I said more than I needed.” Brenda drew a heavy breath. “Just over an hour later I got a call—”
“From the police?”
“Yeah. I froze, or rather it seemed like everything around me froze. I couldn’t speak. The officer had to keep saying ‘ma’am…ma’am.’ Next thing I knew I was here, mad as hell at myself for letting it happen, for not listening.”
“Brenda, you’re human. It’s not your fault.” Percy grabbed her hand in reassurance as her lip began quivering.
“It is my fault. It was an incredibly pointless argument. He wouldn’t be here if—if only I would have let it go.”
For the first time since arriving at the hospital, she cried in front of somebody. The staff had been gracious enough to allow her to stay overnights, and it was during those dark, fretful nights she had cried herself to sleep—alone.
Percy stood slowly, pulling Brenda up with her, hoping a little compassion might lessen the pain her sobs shook to the surface.
“Brenda…hey, things are going to be fine,” Percy assured her. Brenda backed away after a minute, accepting a tissue from the nurse. “I know they will,” she said through sniffles. “Want to hear another quick story?”
The nurse gave her hand another comforting squeeze. “Sure.”
Brenda regained her composure and once again took her all too familiar seat. “We’d been dating for a while, and one night we went to a movie—the name of which I’ve never remembered—then afterward we went to a local diner to get a bite to eat. He seemed nervous all night, so I finally asked him what was wrong. “Nothing,” he says. Of course I knew better, so instead of saying anything I just sat there and looked at him. He stammered and stalled, tried talking in circles.” She lapsed briefly to draw the backs of her fingers across his cheek with the lightness of a feather. “Took him half his chocolate malt to work up the courage to tell me,” she continued, smiling.
“Tell you what?”
Brenda let the moment linger, just long enough to immerse herself in the memory. “That he loved me.”
Percy giggled. “In its own way, that’s kinda’ sweet,” she said.
“It was, but what he did next was, well…” Brenda stopped and looked directly into Percy’s eyes. “We’ve been married over twenty years, Percy, and this is one of the fondest memories I have.” Percy sat motionless, a study in attentiveness.
“He reached into his pocket and drew out a one dollar bill, then looked up and smiled at me.” Putting her hands parallel to the floor and slowly moving them apart, she continued. “He placed it on the table, back side up, and smoothed it out, then took a pen and wrote his name on it. He was so nervous,” she grinned, “his hands visibly shook.”
“Poor thing!”
Brenda pointed at the edge of a dollar bill she’d placed in his hand. “He folded the dollar twice, then handed it to me and said—and I quote—‘No matter where I may travel, or what may happen, so long as you keep this I will always come back to you. This I promise.’”
Percy clasped her hands together and dropped them to her lap. “And you’ve always kept that dollar bill with you, haven’t you?” Brenda nodded slowly as she tried to blink away resurgent tears.
“It’s so easy to take for granted that someone will always be there, or they’ll always return,” Brenda said with a timorous crack in her voice. “But I’ll tell you, ever since that evening, every time he’s traveled I’ve pulled that bill out of my purse and kept it, somehow, on my person, until he returned—and he always has.”
Looking up at Percy again, eyes brimming and glistening from tears, she finished. “He promised me, Percy. He’s never once broken his promise to me. That’s how I know he’ll be okay. He’ll come back to me.” Silent tears began their graceful procession down her rosy cheeks.
Percy leaned forward in her chair and gently brushed Brenda’s bangs aside. “You’ve made a believer out of me,” she said warmly. “Why don’t you go to the sink and splash some water on your face, or shower if you want. You’ll feel better, I’m sure. I’ll go check in at the station real quick then come right back, okay?”
Brenda nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’ll freshen up a bit.” As the pair stood Percy placed her right arm around Brenda and hugged her. “Like you said, he promised. Hang in there, hun.”
Brenda grinned sheepishly and patted her hand, “Thanks.”
The two parted ways at the door as Percy headed for the nurses station and Brenda turned on the light in the small bathroom. It wasn’t roomy, but certainly functional, with a small shower stall, toilet, and sink with vanity mirror. Brenda looked in the mirror and traced the dark circles under her eyes with her fingertips, then turned the cold water knob on the faucet. Water splashed playfully upon the white ceramic sink. She bent over and cupped her hands, letting them fill with brisk cold water and splashed it upon her face. After soaping up her hands she washed her face, then rinsed it clean, and turned off the water. She reached for the towel as the last of the water trickled down the drain.
The nurse’s raised voice split the moment of calm. “Brenda, you’re needed—now!” she yelled, lacking poise or any nuance of calm. She wasn’t certain if it was panicked or just racing with excitement; in either case, it was urgent. Brenda scurried around the corner of the bathroom door, towel in hand, hurriedly drying her face, to find Percy quickly checking monitor readings and looking into his pupils.
His eyes had opened, and he lay fully awake and conscious. She threw the towel on the bed and rushed toward him.
“I have to get the doctor. I’ll be right back!” Percy exclaimed. Her feet didn’t wait for her mouth to finish. She was out the door in more than a hurry. Brenda had to stifle every urge, consciously will every muscle not to lean over the bed and embrace him tightly—intravenous tubes and miscellaneous wires hung like a loose web around him. She locked her eyes to his, tears quietly rolling down her cheeks, then with extreme care, cupped both her hands around his and leaned over to tenderly kiss his forehead. “I knew you’d come back,” she whispered.
Percy reappeared not sixty seconds later. “Doctor will be right here,” she stated softly. Brenda waved her over to the side of the bed where she was standing. Percy quickly stepped over and Brenda threw her arms around her, squeezing as tightly as she could. “Thank you,” she sobbed, “thank you so much.”
“But it wasn’t me, or the doctor, who brought him about,” Percy explained. “It was you.” The doctor raced around the corner, white lab coat swirling behind him, then froze as he reached the foot of the bed—the three of them stood speechless, watching a miracle in bloom.
His eyes intently followed his hand as he weakly raised it up then turned it over and slowly uncurled his fingers. The dollar bill within lay in stark contrast to his pale skin. Brenda delicately picked it up and slowly unfolded it, then respectfully handed it to Percy.
“But, I don’t understand,” the nurse mumbled.
“Look at it.” Brenda whispered.
Percy carefully grasped the bill between her thumbs and forefingers handling it as if it were a newborn. She smiled and pointed at her husband’s name scrawled on the back: Daron. “Just like you said.” Brenda motioned for her to turn it over.
On the face, a first and last name were written: one clearly in her husband’s handwriting—her first name, Brenda. The second had different penmanship. Percy pointed to the second name.
“I added that the night of our wedding,” Brenda whispered.
Percy read the name aloud. “Brenda Carty.” Then, leaning over, she slowly pushed the dollar bill partially under Daron’s hand. “Your wife never lost faith, Mr. Carty. She was here the whole time.” She looked up as the doctor gestured for them to leave the room.
“We’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,” he stated smiling ear-to-ear and nodded in the direction of the door at Percy.
As she crossed the threshold Brenda called out. “Persephone…”
The nurse turned around. Yes?”
“Brenda looked at her husband first, then back up at her. “Daron and I would love to have you join us sometime at the diner, you know, when things are settled.”
Percy practically beamed as she broke into a huge smile. “I would love to. Oh, and Mr. Carty—this time, the malt is on me,” she added with a wink.