“Do what?”
“Please don’t ruin the time we have.” I turned to face him. “I love you. That’s not a story. That’s not a lie.”
“You shouldn’t. You can’t. You barely know me, and I’m dying.”
“I know enough . . . and will you please stop saying that?”
“I’m a charity case to you, but I’m not a fool.”
“Charity case, Adam? You obviously don’t know me. I don’t even buy Girl Scout cookies. I fell for you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the night we met. I just didn’t think you were into me. I wished that someone felt like they wanted a future with me and loved hearing my fantasties without getting scared off. No one has given that to me, ever. Not until you. That night was the first time I ever felt worthy. You changed me, Adam, and you’re changing me now.”
With a furrowed brow, he said, “So you feel like you owe me?”
“We need to get you back for your meds. You’re getting grumpy.”
I stood and walked to the bathroom to gather our things. Before we left, I took a quick shower and then got Adam into his gown and chair. He sat with me in the bathroom and stared at me in my bra and underwear while I blow-dried my hair near the counter. In the mirror, I saw his face grow penitent as he watched me. Over the sound of the hair dryer, he shouted, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I shouted back.
“I ruined it!”
“You ruined nothing!”
“I loved the story, Charlotte! Thank you!”
“I love it, too, and you’re welcome!” I still sounded angry, but then in the mirror I could see Adam laughing behind me and it made me laugh.
“You’re moody, Adam Bramwell!”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He was still laughing.
21. Miracles
It was a miracle, but we made it back to the hospital without anyone knowing we were gone, except for Leah, of course. As we passed her at the nurses’ station she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You get your hair done out on the wheelchair track, Charlotte?”
I ignored her and just continued to wheel Adam into his room. “See, no one cares,” he said as I helped him into bed. I lay beside him in the crook of his right arm. He held me to his body and for a few minutes it felt like everything was normal, even though we were in a crappy hospital room.
Even with the faint sounds of machines beeping and the medicinal smells wafting through the room, I still felt like Adam was my boyfriend, like we were just two people in love, lying together in the afternoon for a lazy nap. When I felt him doze off, I checked the Padres game on my phone. Seth sat on the bench for the second half of the game due to a wrist injury. I was tempted to text him but I held back. I would be seeing him in the next couple of days and I was sure I’d have a lot of explaining to do.
Adam had a rough night. I don’t know if it was because he had overdone it earlier in the day or if it was because he was getting progressively worse. Probably both. He had three seizures throughout the course of the night. After the third, he cried. I held him and rocked him. He wasn’t embarrassed; he was frustrated that he couldn’t control his own body. My heart ached for him. I wanted so badly to be strong but when he broke down and sobbed in my arms, I fell apart, too. I felt robbed, victimized because I wouldn’t have more time with him.
Both of us were exhausted after that night. We had a couple of mellow days inside the hospital, just watching TV and taking short walks. The day before Seth was scheduled to come back, Adam had the worst seizure yet. He was in his wheelchair when it happened. I couldn’t protect him. He fell to the floor and started seizing, his head smacking the tile. I hit the call button before dropping next to him to try and prevent him from injuring himself further. His spasms were so strong that I couldn’t do anything besides try to place my hand between the floor and his thrashing head. I ended up with two bleeding fingers and Adam ended up with a gash from his ear to the crown of his head. He felt so guilty about my fingers that he couldn’t even look at me for the rest of the night.
The nurses bandaged my fingers and wrapped up Adam’s head with white gauze. He was quiet the following day as well, even though I told him over and over not to worry about my hand.
He said sorry at least twelve times an hour until I finally told him that I would break my other fingers by punching him in the face if he didn’t stop apologizing.
Early the following day, he was quiet again and I thought maybe he sensed my anxiety about Seth coming back. I hadn’t heard from Seth yet and I was in no place to contact him, so there was nothing to do, really. I selfishly hoped Helen had explained the situation to him so I wouldn’t have to do it myself, even though I had asked her not to.
Adam sat in his chair and watched me move around the small hospital room, throwing away trash and straightening up. “What are you cleaning for?” he said.
“Just picking up.”
As I walked by him, he grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him. He looked weak. His eyes were hollow and the whites had begun to take on a yellowish tint. I touched my thumb to his bottom lip. “You need ChapStick. Let me get it for you.”
“Wait, Charlotte.” He reached for my arm and gripped it hard. “Let’s get outside. It’s a nice day. I want to leave here and put on normal clothes. Please take me away from this place.”
“Adam, don’t.”
“Don’t what? This place isn’t extending my life in any way.”
“You don’t know that. I can’t take you out of here anymore. I’m scared.”
He didn’t say anything; he just stared up at me, pleading with his sad eyes.
“Please tell me you understand.” I bent down and kissed him. Just a peck on the cheek, but he kept his eyes closed for a long time afterward.
“Will you take me to the bridge? It’s sunny out. I need to get out of this room.”
He was referring to the long glass-encased footbridge between the north and south towers. Sometimes I would wheel him over there to sit, and he would stare at the cars going by below us. I agreed and took him immediately. When we reached the center of the bridge, I stopped and turned his chair to face the street.
“After we got married . . .” he said, as I stood behind him, gripping the handles of his wheelchair. He was motionless, slumped over and gazing at car after car as they drove by.
“What?” I asked.
“What happened after we got married?”
“Oh, right. We came back and had a bunch of babies.”
“How many?”
“Like, five.”
“Five? Really? I always thought I would have two.”
“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, obviously,” I said.
His body jerked with laughter and it was a relief. His spirits had been down since the night after we went to the hotel.
“What are their names?”
“You chose the names, remember?” It was becoming harder and harder for me to talk as I felt a lump growing in my throat.