Oh shit oh shit
And a beat, faint, faint like before, and another, and another, each a little stronger. This is the pattern. Oh shit! If it’s a pattern it’s going to happen again and again.
I still have my hand on her neck. Van hasn’t come back and I’m not sure— Her eyes flutter open.
“Annalise? Can you hear me?”
She’s looking at me but not seeing me.
And her heart’s going faster and faster again, and harder and stronger, but far too fast now.
And it stops, again.
“Annalise. Annalise.”
And four
And five
And six
And seven
And eight
And nine
Please, please breathe
Please
Please . . .
Her eyes close.
Oh no, oh no.
But then I feel it again, faint but there, her pulse.
It’s building again but not so fast. Am I just trying to convince myself? Annalise doesn’t open her eyes.
“Annalise. It’s Nathan. I’m here. You’re waking up. I’m here. Take your time. Breathe slow. Slow.”
Her pulse seems to be steadying, fast but not racing as frighteningly as before, and she feels warmer too. I hold her hand and it’s so thin, so bony, it scares me.
“Annalise. I’m here. You’re waking. I’m with you.”
Her eyelids flutter again and they open. She looks ahead but still isn’t focusing on me. Her eyes look wrong; they look dead. There are no silver glints in them. And now I feel her heart begin to accelerate again, going faster and faster. Oh no. Her eyes are still open and her heart is racing so fast and so hard I think it’s going to burst out of her chest and then— “No. No. Annalise. No.”
I check but I know her heart has stopped again.
I can’t count anymore. Can’t face it. Oh shit. Oh shit. Do I do heart massage or something? I need her on a hard surface for that. I slide my arms under her, lift her, and she’s so light, far too light. I lay her down on the floor gently and I’m not sure what to do.
I put my hands on her chest and push and push. There’s a song I think you’re supposed to do this to; I vaguely remember Arran telling me. It’s fast. That’s all I remember. I push on her chest, massage her heart, get it beating again. But really I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’m doing it right but all I can do now is keep going. I have to keep going.
“Nathan. What’s happening?”
It’s Van. She’s kneeling beside me.
“Her heart keeps stopping. Her eyes opened but they looked dead and her heart’s stopped again.”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
“I think I’ve broken her ribs. I don’t know how hard to do this.”
“You’re doing fine. Ribs can heal.”
Van feels Annalise’s neck, her forehead, her cheek.
She passes me a cigarette. “One breath every minute into her mouth until the cigarette’s gone. It’ll strengthen her heart, though it might weaken yours.”
I inhale on the cigarette and as I breathe the smoke into Annalise’s mouth I feel myself go light-headed. I inhale again and feel OK but as I breathe out my head swims as if I’m giving Annalise all my strength. My lips are close to hers. I look into her eyes but nothing has changed. I take another puff of the cigarette and as I breathe out into Annalise’s mouth my lips brush hers. Her eyes don’t change. I do it again, another breath out, and my lips are clumsy on hers and I look at her eyes and they’re glinting.
“Nathan?”
“Yes, I’m here.” I feel Van touch my shoulder and murmur, “I’ll leave you now.”
Annalise says, “Is this real?”
“Yes. We’re both real.”
“Good.” It’s a breath as much as a word.
“Yes, very good. You’ve been asleep, under a spell.”
“I’m cold.”
“I’ll try to warm you. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”
Her eyes are focused on me; the blue is intense and the silver glints move slowly, and she says, “I’m so cold.” But her hand moves, searching for mine, and I hold it. I pull a blanket down to cover her and lie close to keep her warm and I talk to her. Just repeating the same things: I’m here, she’s going to be OK, she’s been asleep, take it slow.
She’s slept for months but seems exhausted by it. Her body is too thin; her bones are sticking out and her face is drawn now that she’s woken. She looks more frail and ill than when she was asleep.
We lie together and I hold her close to keep her warm.
She asks, “Were you smoking?”
“Yes. We shared a cigarette. Not tobacco, something else.”
She doesn’t reply. I think she’s gone to sleep again but then she says, “Nathan?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
And she sleeps.
Getting Stronger
Annalise is asleep in my arms. We’ve been together like this for hours and it’s good. It’s what I’ve battled for and waited for. It’s not perfect, though. Annalise is frighteningly thin and weak.