Chapter 52
Iwas taken to the hospital as soon as we reached the United States. I didn’t want to leave Nate, but they had to take his body to the morgue. I would have slept down there with him if they’d let me.
I was assessed thoroughly, giving several tubes of blood to make sure I am in good health.
The doctors were surprised to find I wasn’t malnourished.
I have a feeling all my tests are going to be normal.
We lived a pretty normal life out there.
We never went without food or water, not since those early days.
I sit in my hospital room, staring at the plain white walls.
Such a stark difference to my last twelve months.
It’s sterile, devoid of mud and dust. The constant beeping of machines keeps me awake, even though I’d rather succumb to an endless sleep.
The mattress is too uncomfortable. Or maybe too comfortable. It just doesn’t feel like our bed.
Nothing will ever be ours again.
It’s strange. I’m here, alive and well, but I feel dead inside.
As if nothing is working quite like it’s supposed to.
The only time I feel anything other than emptiness is when I think of Nate.
The pain, the grief, it makes me feel alive.
I chase after my thoughts of him, even though they hurt, just to fill this hollowness inside of me.
I’ve never known pain like this. It’s visceral.
It feels like swallowing acid and letting it burn you from the inside out.
It’s a slow process. The pain is so intense, a knife to my heart would be more merciful.
But I need the pain. I want the pain. There is no cure for it other than to die an excruciatingly slow death.
To let the acid consume me until there is nothing left.
It took three days to travel back to the states. We stopped at a port in Miami, Florida, and I’ve been in this hospital ever since. Reporters nearly chased the ambulance down, trying to get a glimpse of the girl who survived.
There should be two of us.
I know my mom and sister are waiting to see me. They arrived in Florida before I did. I’m just not ready yet. I don’t want to pretend to be okay. Pretend I’m not grieving the love of my life. Pretend he belonged to her. I don’t want to see her grief for him. Her pain from losing him.
He wasn’t hers to lose.
I know that’s unfair. I know she already grieved us both. But I don’t want to share this pain. It’s mine alone. It’s the only thing that keeps me alive. The reminders of how I failed him. How I left him to die alone, scared, and worried about me.
I imagine him waking up, knowing his time was coming. He probably called out my name, wanting me to hold him as he let go. I imagine the fear he felt knowing he was going to die, and the panic at not knowing where I was.
I try to tell myself his death wasn’t painful, that his infection took him in a painless sleep.
But part of me knows he woke up for me. He woke up to say goodbye.
He didn’t die painlessly because he would have fought it.
If I wasn’t there, he would have fought.
He died full of anxiety and fear, and I let it happen.
I was off on a fool’s errand, trying to find a cure that didn’t exist. Nothing would have saved him.
He was just too sick. Rather than accept that, I was selfish with his last moments. Moments we can never get back.
He died scared, and alone, and it was all my fault.
“Ma’am.” My nurse startles me out of my thoughts. “Your mother and sister are in the waiting room. Can I let one of them in?” She’s an older woman, maybe in her late fifties. She has kind eyes. You can always tell a good nurse by her eyes.
“My mother,” I answer, my voice sounding strange. It’s empty, devoid of all emotion.
“Okay, honey. I’ll go get her.”
She steps back behind the curtain, closing the door quietly behind her. I don’t want to see anyone, but I can’t keep refusing. It’s not fair to them.
“Sweetie,” my mom’s tearful gasp rings from behind the curtain. She whips it open and runs over to me, dropping herself onto the bed beside me. She takes me in her arms and cries.
I cry too.
Not because I am home. Not because my mom is here with me. I cry because I miss home. I miss the simplicity of our life on the island. I miss Nate. His arms. His hugs. His comfort. I let her soothe me, even though she doesn’t know what she’s comforting.
“My sweet, sweet girl. I thought we lost you. I thought you were gone.” She sobs, but I feel nothing for her. I didn’t miss her. I didn’t care if she was grieving me. She isn’t my family. She was never my home. My home is gone now.
She asks me countless questions. I answer the best I can, but with no real effort. When I start yawning, she asks me if she can grab Katie and let her come see me. I agree, ready to get this over with.
A few moments later, I hear my sister enter the room. She takes one look at me, and her lips wobble as she throws herself into my arms. I hug her back, not realizing how much I’ve missed her. How much I love her.
Her hair is dark again.
She dyed her hair back to its natural color. A much darker red than mine, almost making her brunette. She looks like my Katie again. The dreamer, my protector. I let out a sob I wasn’t expecting. She pulls back, taking my cheeks in her hands, and leans her head forward to kiss my forehead.
I always loved her forehead kisses.
“It should have been me,” she whispers. “You should have never been on that plane, Els. It should have been me.”
“Technically, it would have been us,” I joke, though my words are painted in sorrow.
“Yeah…yeah, it would have been us.” Tears flood her eyes before she continues, “I didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t say goodbye to…to either of you.”
“He loved you, Katie. And he knew you loved him,” I admit, knowing she needs to hear those words.
She nods her head, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “I’m so happy you’re okay, Els. God, I’ve missed you. I died the day we buried you. When we heard the news, I took my first real breath in a year.”
“I missed you too,” I say, feeling guilty that I didn’t give her grief much thought.
“Was he…did he live long?” Her eyes hold so much fear. Like she doesn’t really want the answer.
“He died three days ago.”
She gasps in shock. The tears fall over her lower lids and run down her face.
“I was… I was his power of attorney,” she says, pressing on. “They asked about arrangements for his body. We…well, we already have plots for both of you. So I was thinking about cremation. What do you think?”
Agonizing pain strikes me in the heart. She is his power of attorney. She gets to decide what happens to my husband. She gets to keep his ashes.
HE IS NOT HERS!
My nurse walks in before I can explode on my sister. I can tell Katie feels the change in me. She tilts her head in confusion, trying to assess my mood swing.
“Miss Hansel? I have some test results I’d like to go over with you,” she states calmly.
That’s not my name. My name is Mrs. Westin.
Hot tears roll down my face over a name that no one will ever know. A name that will never be legal in the eyes of the law. A name that only exists under the stars where we said our vows.
“Would you like your guest to step out of the room?” she continues.
“Yes, please.” I look at Katie’s hurt face, but I don’t change my mind. This is my excuse to be alone again.
Silently, Katie stands up and exits my room. The nurse pulls a chair forward and takes a seat.
“We had some blood work come back, Ellison—”
“Ellie,” I interrupt.
She smiles kindly. “Ellie. Just some routine labs we get on everyone when assessing the full spectrum of their health.”
“Was…is something wrong with me?” I ask, not even afraid. If death is ready to claim me, then I am ready to go.
“No,” she smiles gently, “nothing is wrong with you. We got your hCG results back. That test, well it’s a hormone—”
“I know what it is,” I whisper, my heart pounding. “I’m a nurse.”
She gives me a tight smile full of sympathy. “Okay, well I guess I’ll just come out with it then. You’re pregnant, Ellie. Your, um…your sister says you were on the island with her fiancé?” she asks softly, no judgment in her voice.
“I was,” I confirm, my voice just a breath.
“I have to ask you…because you came in with several men. Is the father of this baby Nathan Westin? Or did those men keep you on that ship longer than you feel safe telling me?”
I press my hands to my belly. Baby. There is a baby in there. Our baby. “Nate is the father,” I sob.
“Okay, honey. Can I get you anything? Do you want me to grab your family? The chaplain?” she asks, her eyes filled with concern.
“Can you…” I stop short, knowing how badly this is going to hurt my sister. “Can you tell my family that I don’t want visitors anymore? That I will reach out when I am ready, but they are no longer welcome here?”
The nurse stares at me for several long seconds. She nods her head, her eyes pained. For me. For my family. I don’t know. “Sure, honey. I’ll let them know.”
Three days later, I left the hospital against medical advice. The police had already interviewed me. They started the process to bring me back to life. I was issued a new social security card. A new identification card. It was like everything that happened was just erased.
As soon as I left the hospital, I hopped on a bus with nothing but the clothes on my back.
I didn’t look back. I applied for a job at a hospital in my home state and interviewed for it today.
It went well, so I should be working again soon.
I haven’t called my family yet, and I likely won’t. Not until…not until it’s time.
I walk down the grassy field toward a set of two headstones, the marble sparkling underneath the sun. It’s jarring to see your name on one of these things, but I don’t hate it.
I sit down on top of Nate’s plot, noting his name on the stone.
Nate.
Just as it should be. I’m not sure who did that, maybe Emmy? Either way, I’m pleased to see it. I know that Nate isn’t here. His ashes likely sit on my sister’s mantle somewhere. But this is the only place I feel like I can talk to him. I know he is here with me because he is with me everywhere.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper. “I miss you so much. I miss you in a way that feels lethal.” My eyes fill as I consider a life without him.
“You’re going to be a daddy, Nate. I found out at the hospital.
We are having a baby.” I cry softly, trying not to disturb his peace.
“You would have been the best daddy. Can you imagine? Raising our little jungle baby?” I laugh through my tears, running my hand over his last name etched into the soft stone.
“She will have your last name. I…I can’t…
no, I won’t hide who she belongs to. I won’t hide who I belong to.
” Never again. He was mine, and I don’t care who knows it.
“I think…I think she’s a girl. I just have this feeling, maybe intuition, that I am carrying your little girl.
” I sob, wishing more than anything he could be a part of her life.
“I’m only two months along, so we still have a while to go.
I’ll bring her here to see you when she gets here, I promise.
” The gut-wrenching pain of losing him is starting to overwhelm me once again.
“I’m so sorry, Nate. I’m sorry that I left that morning.
If I would have known, if I had any idea…
I just wanted to save you. I wasn’t ready to let you go.
Honestly, I’d never be ready to let you go.
” I sniffle, trying to regain control of my emotions.
“I know you forgive me, because that’s just who you are.
I know when I see you again, you’ll tell me you weren’t scared or worried, and that you died painlessly.
You’ll tell me all that because you love me…
you love me so much that you never want to cause me pain.
I was so careless not to do the same. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there for you when you needed me the most.” I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt and brush off some of the dirt on my pants.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life missing you, baby.
” No matter how long or short that life is.
“I look to the sky every night and wonder what spot you picked out for us. There is this one star—it always twinkles when I look at it. I think that’s where you are, telling me you’re watching over me.
Over us. Me and your baby girl.” A little girl that will never get to meet her daddy in this lifetime.
“I imagine you’re biding your time with your grandma and grandpa, watching them dance to their song.
Our song.” I smile through my tears at the notion.
“I can’t wait to dance with you in the stars, baby.
” I lay my head against the cold, damp stone and sit with him for hours.
Not talking, not crying, just…being together.
Eventually the sun sets, so I pull myself away from his grave and walk back to my car.
Tears fall from my eyes as I drive away, knowing this is the last time I will visit until our baby is here.