She’s in a coma.
I try to process that and can’t. My Nan is a dynamo. A seventy-five-year-old force of nature. She can’t be in a coma. It’s not possible.
“She fainted because of low blood sugar?”
“They think so, yes.”
She hadn’t had her morning coffee with three sugars. I didn’t bring her breakfast. If it weren’t for me snooping around in Max’s warehouse instead of being there for her, none of this would have happened. We’d be in her booth, selling second-hand stuff to hipsters for stupidly inflated prices.
The guilt twists through me, adding another layer to my increasing anxiety.
“Eden?”
When I open my eyes, Max looks at me like he’s afraid I’ll crumble into an emotional heap. He doesn’t understand how long and hard I’ve fought to train myself for these kinds of situations. Father who didn’t love me. Mother who died. Nan who ...
I close my eyes and make myself see the boat in the storm. I become the girl on the deck and sigh in relief as I dive into the dark, muffled waters.
When I open my eyes, I can breathe again. “When can I see her?”
Max seems taken aback by my sudden calm. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Do you need anything? A coffee? Something to eat?” I shake my head. “Have you called Asha? Would you like me to?” I shake my head again. “So, you’ve called her?”
His constant questions are irritating me. “It will ruin her trip.”
“You know your sister better than I do, but if I were her ...” His voice is quiet, but I hear the judgement in it, loud and clear.
I don’t want him here hovering and judging and making me weak. I’d rather deal with this alone. It’s what I’m used to.
“Everything’s fine, Max. Thanks for coming.” I try to be warm and dismissive at the same time, but I think I just end up being the second thing. Still, it has the desired effect because he steps back.
“Yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll get out of your hair. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
He pushes through the doors leading into the emergency area, and a ball of lead falls into my stomach as I watch him go.
I don’t need him, I repeat to myself, over and over again. There’s only room beneath this boat for one person, and that’s me.
I don’t need him.
*
It’s three hours later when I’m shown into a room in the ICU to see Nan for the first time. I clench my jaw against the sight of her in a huge bed, tubes poking out of her mouth, nose, and arms, surrounded by machines. She’s always been my superwoman role model. If I did nothing else in my life but grow up to be like her, I could die a happy woman. But seeing her now, so pale, and small, and ... broken, my only wish is to be in that bed instead of her.
“She’s stable for now,” the doctor says in hushed tones, “and we’ve relieved the pressure on her brain, so now we just have to be patient.”
“How long will she remain in a coma?”
“I don’t know. Everyone heals at their own pace. Even if she wakes up, there may be some issues related to possible brain damage. Impaired speech, memory loss, partial paralysis. We just don’t know for sure yet.”
“When she wakes.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said if she wakes. But you meant when, right?”
He gives me a reassuring smile. “Of course. From what you’ve told me, she’s a strong woman. If anyone can get through this, she can.” Then he gives my arm a squeeze and leaves me there, staring at Nan and feeling more and more useless by the second.
A nurse is taking readings from machines and writing stuff down. She looks over at me and gestures for me to come closer.
“You can sit with her,” she says, indicating the chair near the window. “It helps if you talk to her.”
I sleepwalk to the chair and sink into it. “What do I talk about?”
“Anything. Tell her about your day. The doctors believe that talking to coma patients helps them wake up.”
She finishes up what she’s doing and gives me a smile before she leaves. Then it’s just me and Nan, and the scraping and beeping of the machines around us.
Okay. I’ll just talk like she’s not lying there half-dead.
“Hey, Nan.” My voice is tight. I try to swallow, but I have zero saliva, so my tongue feels three sizes too big for my mouth. “How’s it going?”
I didn’t think I’d ever miss Nan’s incessant chatter, but right now I’d give anything to hear her say just one word.
I try again, while attempting to keep my tone light. “You know, I’ve never really thought of you as a tubes and machines kind of girl, but I have to say, you pull it off. I take issue with the dowdy gown, but otherwise, you’re really rocking the hospital chic.”
In my mind she agrees with me, and that makes me smile. But it’s one of those smiles that you know is fragile, like a mask, and it’s just one half-breath away from splintering in two.
“So, listen ... I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but ... I love you.” I stroke her hand over and over again. “You make the world a better place, so just ... stay ... okay? Stay with me.”
My throat tightens, but I refuse to cry. “The nurse said it would be helpful for me to talk to you, so I will. I’ll talk until I lose my voice. Here goes.” I take a deep breath. “I found this website the other day for beekeepers called ‘To Bee or not to Bee’, which is all kinds of adorable, but I didn’t get around to telling you about it.” I grab my phone and bring it up in the browser. “But we have plenty of time now, so just lie back and relax, and I’ll tell you what they have to say.” I clear my throat. “To bee, or not to bee, that is the question ...”
*
When I open my eyes, I see a large red-headed male nurse taking Nan’s vitals. I blink and cough to get the dryness out of my throat. “Morning.”
He smiles. “Hey.”
I look down at myself, bent out of shape in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. I’m wrapped in a blanket, which is weird, because I didn’t go to sleep with one.
The nurse checks the saline drip then mutters, “Be right back,” before leaving the room.
“Morning, Nan,” I say, as I stretch up and wince when my back cracks. “Did you see how hard that nurse was flirting with me? Shameless. Then again, he is pretty cute. Maybe I’ll throw over that Max guy for him. I mean, he won’t earn as much, but with his red hair and my fiery locks? We could make the ultimate ginger child. Can you imagine? The kid would be unstoppable. Sure, he’d survive by feeding on the souls of his enemies and burst into flames in full sunlight, but still. Super Ginger!”
The nurse comes back in and hands me a leather duffle bag. Max’s duffle bag. I look at it in confusion.
“Your brother left this for you.”
“My ... brother. Right.”
He goes to Nan’s drip and swaps out the saline bag. “He’s hot. And sweet. I practically swooned when he came in with a blanket and tucked you in. Not enough men like him around. Is he single?”