Brett
OF ALL the ways this conversation could have gone, I never once expected Jesse to cry over Sarah. Yet, here she stands, curled into my chest, trying to dry her eyes. I wasn't entirely sure I was going to tell her about the accident at all. But she kept trying to run away from me, and I couldn't stand the idea of her being so upset. This tiny woman brings out something in me that makes me need to protect her. It killed me that she might be hurting. The fact that I was the reason for her pain just magnified the guilt tenfold. This whole screwed up situation is my fault anyway.
There is no way she could have known about Sarah. I haven't worn a ring in years.
Three years earlier…
COVERED IN my wife's blood, I pace the hospital’s hallways. I've become entirely too familiar with these halls over the last seven months. Between all of Sarah's doctor appointments and her two, now three, attempts to end her life, I know every inch of this hospital. I wish I felt lost here. I wish I didn't belong. But here I stand, staring at the same cheesy picture of a laughing couple captioned with a lame message about getting health screenings to extend your future. I've seen this picture a million times before, however, today it cuts me to the quick.
I could get every test this hospital has to offer, and it wouldn't extend my future with Sarah. No. That was stolen from me. As I try to imagine a future without her, my body physically responds to the panic I feel in my heart. I break into a sweat and I'm forced to prop one hand against the wall to keep my legs under me. I'm not ready to let her go. After today’s gruesome show, I'm not sure I have a choice anymore.
"Detective Sharp?" I hear the nurse say from beside me as I try to calm myself.
"Hey Debra." I look over at the middle aged woman I've met several times over the last few months.
"I brought you these scrubs. I figured you would want to get out of those clothes. I also put some soap and shampoo into the shower in room 228, so you can clean up a bit."
"Thanks, but I'm going to wait a few minutes. I need to get an update on Sarah first."
"She's going to be okay. I overheard the doctors talking about admitting her for a psych evaluation again, but for the most part, they have closed up all of her wounds. I think they are just wanting to talk to her for a minute before they allow you in to see her.”
"Well, that's good news." I breathe out a sigh of relief before going back to my selfish pity party.
"Just go take a shower. I'll come get you as soon as the doctors will let you see her."
"Okay, I'll be quick," I say as she looks at me sadly, her eyes filled with sympathy.
I walk into room 228 finding it decorated the exact same way as the room the day of the accident. I felt so hopeful that day knowing that Sarah was alive. We had cheated death. Literally. Today, only seven months later, I feel nothing but defeat.
I make my way over to the shower and turn it to the hottest setting. I need to feel something. The burn of hot water might be enough to help me wash away this day along with the blood of the love of my life. I look down at my hands, dried blood still settled deep into my knuckles. I did my best to clean up with the rag the paramedic gave me, but I wasn't worried about my appearance as I watched them load Sarah into an ambulance, yet again.
While staring at my hands, I notice my wedding ring caked in dried blood. The symbolism of this moment is overwhelming, even for a simple man like myself. Spinning it around a few times, I try to scratch off the chipping brown with my fingernail. I'm too afraid to take it off. Even just for a minute to clean it. In a lot of ways, this ring is the only thing left of my marriage.
Sarah never put her rings back on after the accident. The nurses were forced to cut them off when she was brought in on that night. I took them the very next day to have them repaired. I even went so far as to pay the rush fee to ensure that they would be ready before she was released from the hospital. However, when I handed them back to her, excited to see her reaction, she just gave me a weak smile and placed them on her nightstand. The next day, she moved them to her jewelry box. The very same place they still sit today.
Reaching down, I slide the platinum band off my finger. I hold it up, looking closely at every bump and blemish. I never take my ring off and it shows in its tattered condition. Inside, it is still shiny silver. Clean and unscratched. My breath catches and my chest tightens when I see the inscription.
No take backs. Love always, Danika.