‘Beatrice and Henry have just arrived, darling.’ Mum’s voice is wary, but I’m past the contempt I feel for Jesse’s parents. I have no room for any feelings, except grief. ‘Can they come in?’
I selfishly want to refuse. I want him all to myself, but I couldn’t prevent the papers from splashing the news of a stabbing all over London. News travels fast, even across Europe. They arrived two days after Jesse was admitted, his mum and sister emotional wrecks and his dad just silently looking on. I could detect the regret in his blank face, which is scarily similar to Jesse’s. I heard all of the explanations, but they didn’t really sink in. In the endless, quiet time I’ve had, just sitting here with nothing to do but cry and think, I’ve drawn my own conclusion. My conclusion is simple: Jesse’s own guilt for many tragic things that have happened in his life has pushed his parents away. They may have been a contributing factor, with their pushy ways and demands for his cooperation, but with common sense and knowing my challenging man and now everything else, too, I know his own stubbornness was what essentially caused this rift. By distancing himself from everyone who reminded him of his loses, he thought it would ease the guilt—the guilt he should never have felt in the first place. He didn’t give himself the chance to be surrounded by the people who love him and who could have helped him. He waited for me to do that. And that may have been too late because now he’s lying lifeless and nonresponsive and even though it kills me to think of my life without him in it—a life I might be facing now—I would prefer for him to be alive and well and not know him.
‘Ava?’ my mum’s voice and shoulder rub drags me back into the room which is too familiar to me.
‘Just for a few minutes.’ I agree, giving up on my salad and pushing it away. Mum doesn’t argue with me, nor does she try to negotiate more time for them. I’ve allowed them five minutes here and there, but I’ve not allowed it privately.
‘Okay, darling.’ She disappears from the room and a few moments later, Jesse’s mum, dad and sister quietly enter. I don’t acknowledge them. I keep my eyes on Jesse and my mouth firmly shut as they crowd the bed. His mum starts to weep, and I see Amalie in my peripheral vision comforting her. His dad definitely brushes at his face. Three sets of eyes, all green, all glazed, and all grief stricken, are staring at my lifeless husband.
‘How has he been?’ Henry asks, moving around the bed.
‘The same.’ I answer, reaching up to brush a stray blonde hair from his forehead, just in case it’s tickling him in his sleep.
‘And what about you, Ava? You need to be taking care of yourself.’ He’s speaking softly, but sternly.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Will you let us take you for something eat?’ he asks. ‘Not far, just down to the hospital restaurant.’
‘I’m not leaving him.’ I affirm, for the millionth time. Everyone has attempted and everyone has failed. ‘He might wake up, and I won’t be here.’
‘I understand.’ he soothes me. ‘Perhaps we can bring you something, then?’
He must have spotted the salad, but he’s trying anything, his concern genuine, but not wanted. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Ava, please.’ Amalie presses, but I ignore her plea and shake my head, digging my stubborn heels in. Jesse would force feed me, and I wish he could.
I hear a collective sigh, then the door opens and the night shift nurse enters, pulling the familiar trolley, loaded with a blood pressure machine, thermometer and endless other equipment to check his stats.
‘Good evening,’ she smiles warmly. ‘How is this fine specimen of a man today?’ She says the exact same thing every time she starts her shift.
‘He’s still asleep.’ I tell her, shifting only a little to give her access to Jesse’s arm.
‘Let’s see what’s going on.’ She takes his arm and loads his bicep with the material band before pressing a few buttons and triggering the automatic inflation of the device. Leaving it to do its job, she takes his temperature then checks the printout from his heart monitor and notes down all of her findings. ‘Just the same. You have a strong, determined man, sweetheart.’
‘I know.’ I agree, praying for his continued endurance. He’s no better, but he’s no worse either, and I have to hang on to that. It’s all I have. The nurse injects some medication into the driver on his arm before changing his catheter bag and drip, then collecting her things and leaving the room quietly.
‘We’ll leave you in peace,’ Henry pipes up. ‘You have my number.’
I nod my acknowledgment and let them all attempt to rub some comfort into me, then watch as they take turns kissing Jesse, his mum going last and spilling tears on his face. ‘I love you, son.’ she murmurs, almost like she doesn’t want me to hear, like she thinks I’ll condemn her for having the cheek. I would never. Their anguish is enough of a reason to accept them. My mission is to restore Jesse’s life to what it should be. I’ll do anything, but I don’t know if he’ll be around to accept it and appreciate it.