29. Ellie
“Why would you do that?”
I’m replaying the events of the past day in my head, and they still don’t make sense to me.
There was a gun to my head. And not only did Cedrick trade his life for mine, he jumped in front of a bullet.
What if he’s dead?
I’ve been thinking it over and over again obsessively in the waiting room for hours, since we first arrived here and he was brought into emergency surgery.
The image still haunts my mind, him sprawled out and unconscious on the ground like that, blood dripping out.
Ishmael sits down beside me, my finger swirling around a cup of cold coffee. Nothing tastes right, and it isn’t morning sickness.
“How you holding up?” Ishmael asks, taking a sip from his own cup of coffee.
It’s not the first time I’ve been asked today and I’m sure it won’t be the last, and I still don’t have a good answer.
I look down at my belly, and realize that I’m starting to show. I realize that the father might not see his son into this world. Or daughter.
I shrug.
“It still doesn’t make any sense,” I reply. “None of it does.”
Ishmael nods sadly.
“I know.” Ishmael shakes his head and looks down at the ground. “We Vanecourt brothers do a lot of stupid things in the heat of the moment. But then, we can’t really claim Peter was thinking rationally, either.”
My face twists in disgust at the name, and I can feel the tears start again.
“My brother’s gonna be fine, just you watch.”
Somehow, I doubt it. Even though I’m not a trauma doctor, I’ve seen enough gunshot victims for a lifetime. Not many of them walk out of the hospital unchanged.
I nod in agreement, because I don’t want to admit that I’m already trying to imagine my life without Cedrick. The thought hurts more than I could ever communicate.
“It should have been me,” I admit, looking down at the floor. “Hell, it should have been nobody. If I’d just stayed at home, none of this would have happened.”
He shakes his head.
“Hey, don’t say that.” He stares deeply into my eyes, and for the first time, I feel that I’ve truly gained a brother.
“Especially because I know why you were out there.”
“You do?”
He smiles. “Liza told me you stopped by and were preparing something special for him.”
“So much for that. The filet mignon is in a bag by the entrance somewhere, I’m sure, rotting.”
A doctor enters the waiting area through the double doors, and he comes over to me and Ishmael.
I can barely focus, but to know about Cedrick, I force myself. He says it’s embedded deep, and that there’s still a high risk for complications.
I wonder how long the operation could possibly take. I mean, some surgeries can take more than a day if they’re really complicated. I lose track of time, as I start to pace the waiting room. I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m crazy. Everyone probably seems crazy in a hospital waiting room.
The minutes turn into hours.
Another doctor steps back out. He’s wearing a sorrowful expression, but I realize he’s walking over to another family.
I look down at the floor, and I count the tiles.
The doctor approaches us, his expression unchanged. Oh God. Here it comes.
I prepare myself for my life to change forever.
“The operation was a success.” Thank God. “And Cedrick’s in recovery now.”
Ishmael stands up, and other members of the family, in various stages of exhaustion, get up as well to hear.
“Oh, God. Thank you doc. That’s such a relief.”
The doctor pulls away.
“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor adds, looking at me. “This is all an ongoing process, which is why we were slow to let you know.”
“Can we see him?”
I look up at the doctor, desperate just to look upon Cedrick’s face one more time.
He nods.
“You’ll need to be gentle, of course. But we’ve moved him to room 235. It’s the royal suite, donated by King Francis.” The King nods his head in acknowledgment.
We walk through the hospital corridors and up a flight of stairs, until we arrive at his room. I can hear the beep of the monitors through the door. I push open the doors, followed by a long chain of family members.
Seeing him lying in bed, the life utterly drained from him, is such an eerie sight.
My brother’s gonna be fine, just you watch. Ishmael’s words replay in my mind. I try to let myself think he’s only sleeping as I approach.
“Never thought I’d be treating Cedrick today,” the nurse says out loud, while she adjusts the IV tube. “It’s kind of surreal.”
The nurse has to bring out several chairs to accommodate us all but is gracious nonetheless. For several hours, we sit beside the bed, watching his chest move up and down with every labored breath.
Isha clings to her coloring book, while I cling to Liza and Ishmael.
The King is at a loss for words. The regal, optimistic presence he normally commands is dimmer.
It’s about nine at night when the King stands up to leave, followed by each member of his family.
Liza rubs me on the shoulder.
“Hey, love,” she says. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You’ve had a long day.”
Ishmael nods in agreement. “You need to get away from this. Get some fresh air.”
I’m not budging.
“No,” I say. “I’m not leaving his side. I’ve slept in hospitals before, and I can get used to it again.”
I expect them to argue, but they don’t. Instead, they bring up a feast from the vending machine.
I keep watching Cedrick, hoping for signs of improvement.
Then I begin to wonder whether I’m the only one with any hope left. Ishmael and Liza had some blankets and pillows brought up, making the chair more comfortable.
I stand up, very gently kissing Cedrick on the forehead.
“Good night, sweet Prince,” I tell him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I wonder if he can hear me. There’s so much I want to tell him.
First, I’d like to apologize to him. Then, I’d tell him how grateful I am to him. That if he lives through this, I’ll never leave him. Because he’s the man I love.
Around four in the morning, I finally drift off to sleep, but I’m startled by a familiar groan as I feel sunlight in my eyes.
Under the weight of the blankets, I tilt my neck, staring at the medical bed.
He’s awake.
I nearly trip over the sheets trying to get out of the chair. “Cedrick!”
I’m screaming, tears streaming down my face. He’s unbelievably weak, but he’s alive.
Staring down into his eyes, I feel myself coming alive again.
“Is this a dream?” He looks up at me, barely able to speak. I just put my hands all over his face, feeling his skin, and he kisses my hands as I do.
“Do you remember it? From yesterday? The grocery store. You saved my life.”
He nods, his eyes gently closed.
“Ellie,” he tells me, lightly rasping.
“Shh.” I feel my knees buckling underneath me, my hand trembling on his shoulder.
“I love you,” he says, looking at me with pure adoration.
I can feel my heartbeat stop, barely able to accept the reality before me now.
Expecting myself to wake up in the chair, I find myself utterly bewildered when I instead stare down at him, and he smiles back at me.
“I love you, too, Cedrick. So much.”