Without hesitating, I stand up, still holding her hand, and stretch out on the narrow foot or so of mattress space at the edge of the bed. She’s shivering, but she doesn’t tense. Doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t push me away.
In fact, Lindsay curls into me as much as she can, given her immobilized shoulder. Her good hand goes on my chest, finding my heart.
Like it’s a guide for her own beat to follow.
Instantly, the sensors stop their crazy chatter. Lindsay’s breathing settles, her eyes closed.
I’m so fucking happy.
Through the window, I see Silas’s worried face. As he spots us, his face goes slack. Blank with surprise.
Then a gradual smile takes over his face and he gives me a thumbs up.
“Drew,” Lindsay says, her mouth against my shoulder.
“Yes?”
“How did you get through it? The distance? The darkness?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just did.”
“No. Not good enough.”
“Not good enough?”
“You don’t get to avoid my question.”
Jesus. I wasn’t kidding when I said she was a fucking warrior. It starts to really sink in that I’ve chosen a woman who has brass balls when it comes to emotional issues. She expects me to be as vulnerable as I want her to be.
That’s a tall order.
Only one person in my life gets to see that piece of me.
So I might as well show it to her.
Lindsay has earned it.
“Mostly revenge fantasies,” I admit with a shaky sigh, hating the sound coming out of me. This is my time to be strong for her. I count the little holes in the drop ceiling panels above us, ignoring the fluorescent lights. “And being trained to kill. You know – the same way most people do.”
She lets out a single laugh. “That’s not funny.”
“No. It’s not. None of this is. I got through it by realizing I was in hell and the only way to get out of hell is to walk until you find the doorway out. Having Mark as a commanding officer helped.”
“How?”
“He got it. Saw how screwed up I was. Channeled my energy.”
“And the nightmares?”
I go still. How do I answer this?
With honesty. That’s how.
“They don’t go away. They just come less often.”
She sighs, her body pressing against mine with more weight. More of the burden of just being is transferring from her to me. I take that as a sign of trust.
“How do you interact with people? I feel so...” Her voice drops off.
Tap tap tap.
She sighs before she even looks up. “Here come all the questions.”
I start to climb off the bed. She clings to me.
“Don’t go,” she whispers urgently. “I don’t want to talk to anyone but you.”
I smile. I breathe. I ignore the insistent rapping on the door.
“I wish I could lay here with you forever, Lindsay. Not now, but soon.”
Her grip on me tightens. “Promise?”
“I never stopped promising.”
“Stay with me while they grill me?”
“Of course.” I kiss the top of her head, then pull back just as Dr. Higgs walks in, eyes curious.
“Hi Lindsay,” he says, giving a pregnant pause, waiting.
She looks away. “Hi,” she whispers, squeezing my hand -- hard.
So hard she’ll turn it into a diamond. Soon.
Lindsay
This is the part where I’m supposed to snap out of it, let Drew kiss me madly, and we ride off into the sunset to make passionate love on the beach or in a remote cabin in the woods, the stars twinkling in the sky as we consecrate our love.
Instead, I’m getting my blood pressure checked and the doctor says, “Open your mouth and cough for me.”
How romantic.
The doctor tries to make Drew move, but I’ve got a vise grip on his hand. He is my rock. He is my anchor. I reached out and he was there and I didn’t keep falling into the eternal vacuum of nothingness.
I’m here.
I’m still here, and it’s all because of him.
And me.
Me.
“Lindsay, can you say something?” Dr. Higgs asks, his eyes kind but searching.
“Something,” I respond.
He laughs. Drew joins him.
“You know where you are? The year? Your birth date?”
“Yes.”
“And you want Drew here with you?”
“God, yes.”
He nods. “Okay, then. By now, someone on your security team has contacted your parents. I’m sure they’ll be here shortly.”
I groan.
“Vocal cords back to normal,” Drew jokes.
I look at the doctor. “I do not need to go back to the mental institution.”
He looks uncomfortable. “You knew about that?”
“I know my parents. I know how they think.” My voice cracks on the last word. I haven’t spoken for eight days, so I’m a little rusty. Drew lets go of my hand, stands up, grabs a pitcher, and pours me a cup of water. I sip it, grateful.
I can’t grab his hand and drink at the same time, so I hurry. Not holding his hand makes me feel weightless.
Like I’ll drift back off.
I don’t want that.
A gnawing sensation grows inside me. The room feels big, cold, impossibly empty and clinical. I check my body again. Clothed in a hospital gown, my bad shoulder bare but bandaged.
Bedsheets and blankets cover the rest of me.
The nightmares leave me naked and bereft, the line between reality and dream so thin, so fragile.
Drew’s strong hand takes mine without comment.
The gnawing abates.
Dr. Higgs seems troubled by my words, the pensive look on his face remaining. “You’re twenty-two, yes?”
“Twenty-three next week,” Drew adds. He swallows, then smiles. “We’ll have to celebrate in a special way.”
Too much.
Too much to imagine. The room starts to spin, my emotions turning an invisible wheel around and around, like I’m a merry-go-round and his words are a source of power.
“Sorry,” he adds in a low voice, squeezing my hand. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
“Your face turned the color of milk when I said that.”
“I can’t think about anything but the next few seconds.”
“Got it.”
The way he says it makes me believe him.
Dr. Higgs scribbles a few more notes, then gives me an evaluative look, a sigh of contemplation escaping. He crosses his arms, the chart still in his left hand, and he looks at me.
“Lindsay, we have a full psych eval scheduled for you tomorrow. We didn’t know when you would start to communicate, so...”