I understand now,” comes the whisper of the voice that’s been holding me together for the past couple of months. “And I want you to know that if you leave, I’m not staying. Call it childish, call it stupid. But you heard me—I am not staying.”
That’s not right. I don’t know why exactly, but I get a feeling deep in my bones that it’s not right.
To think of it, I don’t feel my bones. I don’t feel anything. I’m in an ocean of nothingness, and it feels amazing.
Every time I let this ocean swallow me, I hear her voice, and it pulls me back in. Over and over again. Over time, I stopped letting the ocean take me. I fight, but it’s useless. The ocean is stronger. It’s never-ending, and it’s just me here, alone.
But I’m not alone. I feel her presence. To be frank, I think that it’s the only thing I feel. I know she says she’s holding my hand, but I don’t feel it—I don’t have hands. I have nothing, just the freedom of not feeling anything.
And I’m ready to go.
But every time the thought enters my mind, I get another feeling. A deep ache in my chest if I had one. It pulls me right back in.
The guilt. I feel a lot of guilt. But this one feels different than the one I’ve been living with for many years. This one tells me that I’m leaving someone behind. I’ve never had this feeling before, but I know I like it.
I suddenly feel another presence around me. A friendly one. Like it’s someone close to me, and I know she feels it too, because she relaxes. I’m good. She is near, and she is happy.
But then she’s stressed, and I’m back to worrying. My heart begins palpitating, and I can’t breathe. My throat begins contracting, and I suddenly become all too aware of my body. I can feel it.
There is a warmth under my ribs. Another beating heart and a constant, soft buzzing sound, like a tiny tractor, has climbed into my ears.
I feel more warmth spreading through my limbs. I’m more aware of everything.
I can’t open my eyes, but I feel someone talking rapidly.
“His BP is dropping.”
She’s on the verge of tears. I can feel it. The one who’s been holding me together.
I need to fix that.
I try to pry my eyes open, but they don’t listen. My chest aches more, and the chatter around me gets louder and faster. They probe and poke my body, and I can’t stop them.
“Stephan.” Her desperate plea makes my heart stop. The beeping intensifies, and she starts crying.
Fuck it, I’m outta here.
I gather everything I have left and force my eyes open.
And they listen this time.
I find her watching me with wide, teary eyes. Kenneth is hugging her shoulders. His face solemn. I’m clearly in a hospital room, because people in medical scrubs surround me, poking everywhere they can. I try speaking, but something is in my throat. I try to find it and pull it out, but the doctor grabs my hand.
“Let us do that. It’s a breathing tube. I’m gonna pull it away, and your throat might hurt.”
Might hurt my ass. It feels like he just pulled my esophagus out with the damn tube. I begin coughing. A nurse brings a glass with a straw and brings it to my lips.
“Take one small sip.”
I do as I’m told and begin coughing again—the water feeling like burning lava down my throat. She waits till the cough subsides and gives me another sip. This one goes down smoother, and I feel my throat starting to feel like my own.
“Fucking hell, man.” Kenneth laughs. “I didn’t know if you’d make it.”
I brave myself to face Kenneth. I avoided looking at him because I know Leila is by his side. I don’t know why, but I’m scared to meet her eyes. Something big has clearly happened, and I’m still out of it. I just hope I didn’t fuck up like I always do.
“Welcome back, Mr. Williamson.” The doctor draws my attention back to him. He listens to my heart, shines light into my eyes, and pulls away with a satisfied smile. “I’ll order some tests to see what’s going on with your body, and then we can go from there.” He pats my shoulder with a smile. “You just beat the odds. Made me proud.”
With that, he departs, followed by the nurses.
Kenneth walks up to me and squeezes my hand. “I’m fucking happy to see you back, man. Welcome to the family. I don’t think you have a choice now—you’re stuck with us.” He lets out a chuckle. “You’re going to regret it at some point, but we don’t issue refunds.”
He smacks me on the shoulder and leaves. Why is everyone smacking me?
I watch him leave, dreading facing Leila, who hasn’t made a move to come closer. I probably really fucked up. But she is here, right? So it can’t be that bad.
When I’m finally man enough to turn toward her, I find her standing in the same spot, her fists by her sides. Tears stream down her face. Her lower lip starts trembling, and she bites into it.
“Lei.” My voice is coarse, and it’s all I can really manage. It’s the most important word in this world—her name.
And she falls apart in front of my eyes. Her whole body quakes with shudders, and she covers her face with her hands, falling to her knees.
“Lei,” I say, stronger this time, “baby.” It hurts to speak, but she needs to hear me.
My words do the opposite, and she shakes even more. Her shoulders sag as she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“Baby,” I say again. “C’mere.”
She picks herself up from the floor, and in one big jump, she throws herself on the bed where she climbs on top of me, digging her hands under my shoulders. Her thighs land on the side of me, and I can feel that she lost a lot of weight. How long was I out?
My arms barely listen to me, but with sheer willpower I manage to force them to lift and wrap around her back, holding her onto me as she cries. If you could call it that. It’s more like a soul shattering exorcism of all her fears.
When the shudders subside, she pulls away from me but stays sitting on my legs. Her beautiful face is puffy, her nose is so red I can’t even see my favorite freckles. She wipes it with the sleeve of her white shirt and smacks my chest with her tiny fist.
“Never do that again, jerk!” A loud sniffle. “I thought I was never going to hear your voice again. Don’t do that to me anymore.” Her eyes well up again before she adds, “Please.”
“I won’t.” I croak. “Wha—” I cough, and she leans over to the table to grab the glass. She gives me another sip so I can keep talking. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Her brows pull together.
I shake my head in denial.
“You saved me.” One more sniffle. “There was a shooter, and you covered me with your body. You took two bullets that were meant for me.” Tears start running down her face.
What’s wrong then? You are alive, that’s what matters, I ask her silently.
She understands, of course, she’s always got me, and she smacks me again. Harder this time. That one hurt, and I make a face. She gets scared and starts rubbing the spot she hit. “I’m sorry!” she mumbles. “I didn’t mean to actually hurt you.” I’ve never seen her more distressed and disheveled.
She begins rubbing more vigorously, making the sting worse, but like hell I’ll say anything to her. If it makes her feel better, I’m all for it.
“You were out for five weeks. Five weeks in a coma, Stephan!” Her lips begin trembling again. “The next time you pull shit like that, I’ll kick your ass.”
I smile, recognizing my Leila. Then I remember the shooter, and my face changes.
“Jake…took care of him,” she says, understanding my silent question without me actually voicing it. “He won’t hurt anyone else ever again.”
Even though it should be good news, I recognize guilt when I see it. And that’s what it is—guilt written all over her face. I wish I could speak normally now, but I’m not there yet, so I try to croak what I can, “Not your—” a cough, “fault. His actions,” a cough, “his choice.” Then I add firmer. “Not your fault.”
I force my hand to move and land atop of hers. “Not your fault,” I add again with a squeeze, and she gives me a small nod. I know we’ll be revisiting this topic a few times, and I’m ready for that. Who is more equipped to talk guilt more than I am.
Right now, I’m happy to be alive. Never thought I’d say that, but I am. I can’t imagine leaving Leila alone in this world where she’s supposed to be protected by me. It’s the sole purpose of my existence now.
“Mew.”
What’s that?
She sees the question in my eyes because she pats the space beside us and calls out to someone. “C’mon, Midnight. Say hi to Stephan.”
My eyes go round as a skinny black cat jumps onto the bed and starts purring. He settles by my shoulder and starts licking his paw.
“Remember Midnight?”
I nod in wonder—she got my damn cat here, to the hospital. I knew there were no limits for this woman.
Her familiar scent invades my nose, and I understand how much I’ve missed it. Even in the nothingness of an ocean I’d been swimming in, I got a whiff of it from time to time. She was right there, pulling me back.
We have a lot of things to discuss, but right now I just want to be in this moment. Where I can truly enjoy being here, with a beating heart and the woman, made for me, in my arms.
Who needs heaven when it’s better on earth?
