Three
Silas
Since being home from the hospital, I’ve been taking it easy. Doctors’ orders and all. My energy has been low and this fatigue is killing me. Stacey helped me settle on the couch before she left for her shift and my mom stopped by to bring me dinner. Stacey tried to stay but her boss wouldn’t budge today. I don’t blame the guy. She’s missed a lot of work when I told her she didn’t need to.
I can handle being here a few hours alone. I’m still breathing and my heart is working enough to get me through the night. Positioning the oxygen mask on my face, I turn to my side and search through the movies on my watch list, but nothing sounds interesting. I’ve seen almost everything at this point. Reading and watching movies have become my only options. I don’t plan on taking up knitting or cross stitching any time soon—all the crocheting I’ve done is taking over my house—and I have no energy to play any of the instruments I’ve acquired over the years. My hands shake too much anyway. I’m a terrible artist. Working in the garden requires being able to walk and move around easily. What else is there?
Don’t do this. Don’t do that.
I’m running out of options on how to keep myself entertained. I feel as if I’m already dead sometimes. What’s the point of being alive when I can’t cook for myself or walk to the bathroom? The smell coming from the portable plastic urinal sitting on the coffee table ruins my appetite when I try to eat or snack on one of my favorite granola bars.
Boiling over with frustration, I shut off the TV and use the large cushions to shift myself into a sitting position. I can do this. It’s only a few feet away. I can go to the guest room and bring back my Kindle. Based on the time on my watch, I have another three hours until Stacey will be home. She has a shorter shift today, but every time she’s gone it feels like a lifetime. Doesn’t she get tired of having to do almost everything for me? How much longer can we go on this way?
I tug off my mask and take in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. Gripping one armrest, I get to my feet and balance myself on anything I can grab onto as I walk into my room. When I reach my nightstand, I sigh in relief, collapsing onto the bed. I breathe in and out while pressing a hand to my chest. I can stay here for a while—until Stacey gets home. Lifting my legs with all the strength I have left, I grip onto the blankets and position myself on the bed. With ragged breaths, I scoot all the way to the headboard, not stopping until it hits my back, and I grab my Kindle. Fucking finally.
Reading is hard without my oxygen. The smallest movements have me out of breath. No way I’ll make it to my next birthday. In three months I’ll be twenty-four. In three months I’ll more than likely be six feet under in some fancy casket Stacey will have used all our savings on. She thinks I’m worth all the trouble and won’t think differently when I’m dead.
Five chapters into the book I’m reading, I still have no fucking clue what’s going on. I’m losing focus with every page, having to reread words, my brain not comprehending anything the first time. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Tears spring to my eyes and I toss the Kindle on the other side of the bed. I don’t know how long I sit like this, but I manage to nap for a little bit, waking up when my phone goes off. Dammit. Of course I left it in the living room.
My lungs burn with each intake of breath and I study the distance between me and the door, not feeling as confident as earlier. I barely made my last trip. My phone goes off again, and if I don’t answer it, whoever is calling is sure to have a panic attack. Especially if it’s my mom or Stacey.
One more time. I need my oxygen mask anyway and my mouth is dry. I can’t stop thinking about the large bottle of water sitting on the coffee table.
Sweat gathers between my brows as I stand up from the bed. Everything aches and the burning in my throat travels to my chest. A sharp shooting pain in my shoulder hits me out of nowhere and my feet almost lose their grip on the floor. Not now. Almost there. Don’t let me down now. Not after all this time.
What was all this for then? Me meeting Stacey, getting married, and landing a job I love? Buying a large house with two empty rooms with the plan to grow our family? Was it all for nothing?
Slowly moving one foot in front of the other, I grab onto the wall and the couch is finally in view. It’s right there. Only ten more steps to go. Pain travels from my shoulder to my jaw and neck before slamming into my chest like a thousand knives, so crippling my knees buckle and I hit the floor. I don’t know if the loud banging sound is from me hitting the floor or the door slamming. Everything blends together but I swear I see someone running toward me, shouting my name.
“Silas!” they say again, sounding like they’re walking through a long, empty tunnel.
“Please,” they scream. The more Stacey cries out, the more I recognize her voice. She smells like tomatoes, pasta, and her usual earthy scent from all the time she spends in our garden.
“I need you to hold on, baby. You can’t leave me now. Not when we just had all our prayers answered. I won’t lose you after finally finding a way to save you. I can’t.” More sobs fill the room and she places the oxygen mask over my face before sitting me up against the couch. Propping pillows around me with one hand, she uses the other to make a phone call.
“How much longer is it going to be? He only has days if that. We can’t keep waiting.” She pauses, her eyes widening. I can finally see her clearly but the rest of the room is spinning.
“What? Tonight? Now?” Nodding, she stands up from the floor and paces the living room, her eyes staying on me. “Yeah. I’ll need an ambulance. No way he’ll make it in his condition if I drive him there myself.” Tugging at her hair, she presses the phone tighter to her ear. “Try to hurry. I’m scared he’s dying. It’s risky either way, isn’t it? This way we can at least say we tried.” Sighing in relief, she nods. “Good. I’ll do my best to keep him awake.”
Walking back over to me, she ends the call and pockets her phone. She frowns, staring down at me, her chest caving. “You’ve waited this long, lover. Don’t give up now. Don’t let me down. We had plans, remember?” She drops to her knees beside me, reaching for my hand.
Unable to respond with words, I slowly nod and give her my best squeeze.
“Keep looking at me. Let me see those beautiful blues.”
An ambulance roars in the background and minutes later someone bangs on the door. Stacey jumps to her feet to answer it and points in my direction. A tall, burly, red-headed man dressed in a uniform too small for him stomps my way with a stretcher.
“It’s probably best if we sedate him for a little bit,” Stacey says. “To give his body a little break from working too hard.”
“Do what you need to but you gotta do it now. We don’t have a whole lot of time.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll make it quick.” She pulls a bag from the closet and removes a syringe. She squirts a little out before sticking me with it. “Don’t worry, my love. You’re only going to sleep for a little while, and when you wake up you’ll be so much stronger.”
“If,” the man corrects her.
“No. When. This is going to go right. It has to.” I don’t miss the darkness in her tone—the bite as venomous as her eyes. This isn’t my Stacey. She sounds unrecognizable, as if someone temporarily took over her body. The softness in her eyes returns when she looks back at me, the change as quick as the flip of a switch. She’s on the ground with me again, humming the song we danced to on our wedding day. Everything flickers around me, along with her voice, the lyrics to “Island in the Sun,” cutting out at my favorite part. Stacey holds me, rocking back and forth. Suddenly I’m reassured I’ll hear that verse again.
Will I feel the same about it when I wake up? Or will it sound like the part of Stacey I didn’t recognize tonight?