From the family who’ve come by to pray and cry, to the officers who’ve told me to be strong, the unknown faces, the known faces… every one of them represents a long minute, a dragged-out second.
“The waiting is always the hard part, but like I told you, this morning everything looks good. His brain function is clear. He’s breathing on his own, and there are no signs of complications from the surgery. We have to be patient now.” She writes some notes down on his chart before replacing it in the rack at the end of his bed. “I’ll be back later tonight. Keep talking to him. It helps.” She offers me what I like to call the pity smile and leaves me alone to think again.
Talking helps? I’m not sure I believe her. I’ve been talking for two days. Two days of not shutting up, and I’m not sure it’s working.
“I hate her, you know? Not the doctor, the girl in my head.” I continue with my ranting and take my seat back beside him. “I hate her because I used to be her. I was her. But the problem is I can’t be her anymore, not without you. You already left me once, Hetch. And I know everyone makes mistakes. I know this. Jesus, I know this. It’s the after that matters. How you come back. And you came back. You came back and I pushed you away. So now I’m asking you to give me my after. Give me my chance. Don’t stop fighting. Please wake up. You have to come back to me. I’m not finished loving you, Liam Hetcherson.”
I need more time.
The girl in my head needs more time.
We both need more time.
“Please, Hetch, please wake up. I need you to wake up now. Okay?” I squeeze his hand, waiting for something. For anything.
Three days.
Three days of back and forth with these doctors and I’m going crazy.
“Come on, Lib. Will you just try?” Sterling taps my shoulder, pulling me out of the bubble I’ve created for Hetch and me.
“I’m not hungry.” I look up to find Sterling, Hart, Brianna and Kota staring down at me.
“Liberty, you need to eat. Just try a bite.” Hart tries to reason with me, but the last thing I want to do right now is eat.
“He’s like glasses,” I blurt, clearly still not myself. Three days of hell and I’ve barely slept more than an hour at a time. I’m also in desperate need of a shower, but I refuse to give up on him. Refuse to leave his room. “Hetch. He’s like glasses,” I tell them all, probably not making any sense.
“Glasses?” Hart’s eyes move to Brianna’s before coming back to mine. I know they’re worried about me. I heard them talking about me outside the door before they came in. I know they mean well, but I can’t seem to care about anything other than worrying when Hetch is going to wake up.
If he’s is going to wake up.
“Yeah. Like when someone doesn’t know their vision isn’t perfect. They think they can see fine. But the moment they put those glasses on for the first time, they see everything so clearly, so vivid. They realize how much detail and beauty they’ve been missing. That’s Hetch. He’s my glasses.” No one says anything for a beat, and I wonder if they’re thinking about having me committed. I smell, I haven’t eaten, and I’ve started talking in metaphors and similes.
“I get it. Ava was my glasses,” Hart finally answers, filling the silence.
“Ava?” I sit a little straighter, relieved I’m not going completely crazy.
“My wife.” His eyes glaze over briefly before he shakes his head and clears it. “She died a few years ago. But even on the darkest days, the days I didn’t think I had anything left in me to fight with her, she was the clarity my life needed.” His voice shakes a little, and for a second, I feel like a complete ass.
How did I not know his wife died?
“I don’t want to walk through life thinking I can see when I know I can’t,” I whisper, unsure if it’s the right thing to say. He lost his glasses; he knows what I’m going through, but I shouldn’t rub it in.
“You won’t, Lib. He’s is going to wake up. And when he does, you’ll see so much; you’ll wonder why you ever doubted.”
I don’t answer, not sure if I can believe it; instead, I hold my hand out for the sandwich they’ve been trying to make me take a bite of for the last twenty minutes.
“Thank you.” He hands me the sandwich and steps back.
“I’m not gonna lie. I probably won't even eat half,” I warn before they think they won the battle.
“Well, I’m not gonna lie, I wish I had some of these magical glasses,” Sterling murmurs beside us, and like the other day when Fox made a joke, I smile. Then maybe I laugh.
It’s not the laugh Hetch would have given me, but it’s something. And for that, I’m hopeful.
Thirty-Seven
Hetch
“Hetch, please. You need to come back to me. I can’t do this on my own.” The soft sound of Liberty’s voice fills the still, dark air. Breaking through my peace and calm, it wraps its panic around me.
“Liberty?” I turn, trying to find her. “Liberty, where are you?” Panic sets its claws into me.