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James, now sitting in a fresh black v-neck t-shirt and comfortable jeans, still had his left hand tangled in Abigail’s.
He had decided to wash his hair out and make a change of clothes a few hours ago, using the patient restroom. He had initially hesitated, but it wasn’t like Abigail needed the bathroom all to herself, anyway. She had one of those catheter things.
Even then though, after James had cleaned up enough to his liking, Nurse Julie had still insisted that he go home and really get freshened up. But he worried too much that Abigail would wake up alone, so he had stayed.
Now, hours later, here he was: sitting in the uncomfortable, metal-like visitor’s chair with one hand wrapped around Abigail’s, and the other holding a well-aged, leather book to his face.
James knew how much of a literary fan Abigail was, and although he wasn’t one himself, he was at least observant enough to have noticed that her favorite book in the house was one of poetry.
Though, he would’ve been lying if he said he had heard of these poems he was reading to his wife. Sure, he knew the poets – she was a literary freak with all her books that were scattered around the house – but he hadn’t realized how well this particular poem truly fit for him, in more ways than one.
It was ee cumming’s “your little voice”. He had started with Abigail’s favorites, assuming that the poems on the dog-eared pages were her favorites.
your little voice
over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
dizzy
With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
wee skipping high-heeled flames
courtesied before my eyes
or twinkling over to my side…
over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
dizzy
With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
wee skipping high-heeled flames
courtesied before my eyes
or twinkling over to my side…
James had gotten through half of the poem when his attention was forced away from the book.
In truth, he was lucky to have not come to the poem’s finish and learn that it expressed the speaker’s sorrow in losing their beloved. In his and Abigail’s current situation, such an ending would have surely been the end of him.
But ignorance is bliss, right?
James’ reading had been disrupted by what he could have sworn was a slight tug coming from the hand that was enveloped in his.
He reacted in shock, also staring at their connected hands with some amazement. After a short moment of stillness passed, he forced himself to settle down, a look of disbelief gradually adhering to his features.
Don’t get your hopes up, James. You were probably imagining it. It wouldn’t be the first time… He thought bitterly.
He was about to turn back to the book in his hand, when Abigail began to stir. He had to take a second to make certain he wasn’t hallucinating before allowing utter glee to overtake him from the inside out.
“Abigail? Abs? Are… Are you awake?” James asked a little nervously. He kept her hand clutched in his even as he instinctively jumped to his feet, the metal-like, barf-colored chair sliding back a few feet.
Abigail Rowan-Fischer could practically feel the man’s deep voice gently tapping at her ears, as if requesting entrance. Her head was foggy as she was coming-to and was unable to register who the voice belonged to. She panicked, momentarily feeling enclosed in the half-conscious darkness that threatened and frightened her worse than any criminal she had ever encountered.
“Love, hey it’s me. I’m right here. It’s okay, come on. Come back to me, Abs,” James cooed.
Hearing the voice again, it registered. James’ quiet yet strong and familiar voice calmed Abigail enough for her to find luminance.
The room was lit by the orange-pink glow of the setting sun outside the broad, hospital window. The beams of sunlight were vacant of its midday harshness, but its allure and clarity was ever present. Abigail’s autumn-colored orbs followed this allure into luminance.
For the first time in days, tear-brimmed, forest green eyes met with those of soft hazel.
“Hey,” Abigail said on a breath, a smile slowly but surely adorning her features.
“Hey.”
A brief silence passed before either of them decided to speak again.
“How many times… do I have to tell you not to call me ‘Abs’?” Abigail croaked out on another few breaths. She offered a smile.
Her voice was weak and coarse, but she needed to make a joke. She had seen something akin to apprehension and grief on James’ features, and she wanted desperately for it to just disappear. But when he smiled in return, it didn’t meet his glassy eyes of green.
“As long as that’s what’ll keep you here with me, you’re going to find yourself having to say it to me every day,” James retorted, but only half teasing. They both knew – as ridiculous as it was – that there was an underlying seriousness to what he said.
“Where’s Leah?” Abigail asked. Her throat was dry as sandpaper, but she didn’t care. The absence of her daughter had sunk in, and the weight of her husband’s statement was something she wasn’t ready to confront just yet.
“My parents’.”
Abigail bobbed her head almost absently. She was sore all over. It hurt to even nod, but she tried not to show it. She averted her gaze from James’ even as he proffered her mouth with an ice chip.
She thought of Leah.
Especially because of her job, there had always been an unspoken promise and agreement between James and Abigail when it came to things like this. Leah, at least until a certain age, should not be allowed see her parents in pieces, whether that be physically or emotionally.
“They brought her around a few times. But that’s it,” James added.
Abigail nodded again.
She was fine with that. An occasional visit was fine. It was right, and it was what should have been – as long as the sight of a nearly lifeless Abigail didn’t completely scar the four-year-old for life.
“How is she?” Abigail asked, still feeling weak. In truth, she felt exhausted and completely battered.
“She’s good. She asks about you, but I mean…” James shook his head, as if trying to rid this mind of negative thoughts. “She’s a happy kid – how she should be.”
He offered a smile as they watched each other, silence blanketing over them. A few beats passed, and James’s body seemed to ache more and more for a reassurance that his wife was still alive, still warm.
Then as if of its own volition, James’ hand rose and began its own path to the side of Abigail’s forehead, brushing a lock of dark brown hair away from her features before settling itself against her cheek.
Abigail leaned thoughtlessly into his open hand. Her body was more aware than herself of how much she needed the familiar touch. At her weakest, it had always been what soothed her, and now, as her heavy eyelids began to slide shut, she allowed it to do just that.
Sleep had begun to claim her, when the warmth of James’ hand suddenly disappeared, and she opened her eyes in search of him. He was sitting on the chair beside her bed.
“Hey.” James smiled, both amused and worried by the look of uneasiness he caught in his wife’s expression.
He knew he really needed to go and grab the doctor or someone – to let them know she was awake – but he wanted more time with her. As silly as it was, he was afraid that she would fall back into unconsciousness if he left her alone for even a moment.
James grabbed Abigail’s hand and squeezed it, hoping it would let her know that he wouldn’t leave. The gesture was more for her than for him – or so he told himself. It did seem to significantly calm her anxieties, though.
“Hi,” Abigail returned with a gentle smile. She understood his meaning.
Abigail allowed her heavy eyelids to close again, clutching his hand as tight as her pain levels allowed. She wouldn’t let him escape her grasp if she could help it.
Maybe it was the drugs or maybe it was truth, but it dawned on her as she was being pulled into sleep, how much those single syllable words subconsciously meant to them.
They were almost immutably their “Always”, their “Forever”. They were what was said when the word “love” for some reason didn’t fit the moment – when the words “I’m sorry” were words that their stubborn lips refused to form. For whatever the reason, those single syllable words had long ago come to be enough. Sure, it was weird and maybe even insane… but it worked for them when they needed it to.
Suddenly, Abigail’s hand felt empty and she shot her eyes open to find James standing, starting towards the door. She was scared, exhausted, and trying hard to block out images of the scene that had put her in here. But her husband was leaving her - alone. With her thoughts. Did he not know how dangerous that was?
Apparently not.
“No, don’t go,” Abigail said through gritted teeth. She had attempted to reach for James’ arm, but a sharp pain surged through her, forbidding the motion. The words had spilled out before she could catch them, and she mentally cursed herself for it. To feel afraid and alone was one thing – but to actually say something that implied that you were was an entirely different matter.
“Hey, hey… Take it easy. Sit back. I swear I’m not going anywhere. I just need to tell the nurse you’re awake,” James replied. He almost couldn’t believe his own words. His wife was awake. He knew he must have been grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. His wife was awake for goodness’ sake.
“I know, but… Just press the call button. Stay with me.” Abigail’s eyes were becoming misty, and James had noticed. His grin faded to a small, sincere smile has he saw the hint of nervousness and reluctance in her expression.
She hated feeling vulnerable, but she couldn’t quite keep a veil over its symptoms tonight. Abigail was sickeningly, stubbornly independent and viewed vulnerability as a great flaw. And if that was the case, then she was flawed. But it wasn’t something ugly. It was simply what made her human. It was part of what made her, her.
“Hey,” James said sternly, taking her gaze away from the patch of bed she had suddenly found extremely interesting.
He took his seat and pressed the call button for the nurse to come. Abigail felt momentarily abashed at her plea, but it was quickly washed away by the look on her husband’s face.
James had sensed that something was wrong – well, he sensed his wife was uneasy. And so, when he had lent her a smile, he hoped it turned her unrest upside down. Although in truth, the man’s eyes did seem to express something a bit inexplicable. Abigail could see it. His eyes, his single syllable word, they conveyed what could have only been described as love.
Okay, yeah… that’s pretty impossible, but somehow Abigail understood it all the same.
No more words were exchanged. It was unnecessary.
Abigail had been quite a guarded woman when James first met her. It was partly intentional, partly a conscious effort: she had a habit of keeping everything, including difficult emotions, at arm’s length. But if she couldn’t keep her walls up, she’d have somehow retreated into herself – effects of seeing a relationship shatter firsthand, over and over and over again. She could only count on one hand the amount memories she had of her parents genuinely laughing with each other, because of each other. But even those memories, she doesn’t completely trust. They were from her childhood, and children tended to romanticize things. Her parents could have simply been putting on an act.
So, as Abigail had grown older, she developed a shielded, overly careful side to herself. She was missing out on so many things because of it, and she was aware. She was aware, but nevertheless content to stay near the outskirts where she could keep to the in between of living and being – well, that was until James had come into the picture.
From his chair next to the hospital bed, James watched as this guarded side of his wife resurfaced in front of him. It was years before he was able to get passed her walls in the past, but he had loved every bit of her – walls and all. Since then – since she and James had first met – this Barricaded-Abigail only came out a handful of times. It had been forced into hibernation, rarely ever receiving the opportunity to reveal itself. On occasions like these, however, it was hard to keep it away.
Abigail Rowan had always been a mystery to her man. Even when she had become Abigail Rowan-Fisher, she remained an enigma that James was in no hurry to decipher. He could happily spend his whole life deciphering, solving the puzzle that was his wife. He could wait.
James would wait, and allow her to ease the walls away herself. She always had. She was independent and stubborn; flawed but not broken. She controlled her walls; they both knew this, despite what anyone else thought.
He was sitting quietly as Abigail took small sips of the cup of water he had passed to her. Over the brim of the paper cup, she noticed that a small, sad smile had set onto her husband’s lips. He looked pensive and a bit distressed. He wasn't as good at hiding his emotions as she was. Occupational hazard for being a detective, I guess.
James, pensive indeed, was remembering all the time he had spent in that room with Abigail’s unconscious self, tortured by nightmares that had always ended with different variations of her death.
“Stop thinking so much,” Abigail quipped with a smirk, but it didn’t loosen him up. She was melting her barriers away. It wasn’t hard for her to do that anymore.
Silence passed, and seriousness took the air again.
“I waited for you,” James whispered.
“I told you I’d always come back to you. You’re my home, James.” She paused with a kindness in her eyes and then added, “Wasn’t it in the vows?”
She managed a tired smile for the great big green orbs that were sparkling with tears.
She had been shot and was still groggy from her four-day hibernation nap, but she still had it in herself to be the one to ease the tension – more than once. James was both ashamed of himself and proud of his wife all at the same time.
“You’re amazing,” is all he could muster before practically melting into a puddle under her gaze. He’d missed her so much.
It was barely a minute later when Dr. Francis and two nurses walked into the room, checking her vitals, the nurses (Julie being one of them) grinning like sugar-high nine-year-olds.
Abigail and James were both struck dumb at how much of a fan base they had inadvertently created for themselves here in the hospital – even among the nurses and some doctors that haven’t even personally met them. Apparently it had been a few years since this wing of the hospital had seen a couple as loving and sickeningly sweet (like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel) as them.
The medical team did their job for the next twenty minutes or so – the doctor discussing Abigail’s pending discharge papers, rehab schedule and such.
After they were gone, James and Abigail were left alone to their own devices. A few beats passed, and James was still grinning from the lively conversation he and Abigail exchanged with the nurses just moments earlier.
When he turned to look at her, Abigail said musingly, “And then there were two.”
A look of yearning began to surface in James’ expression – a look that Abigail mistook for sorrow. She offered him a smiled that said “forever and a day” – their tagline, apparently. Sammy had once seen it as a tagline for a movie that reminded her of them. It stuck.
To depict such a phrase in an expression, though, was definitely an odd thing. The couple had even argued about the absurdity of it at one time, but James insisted that they knew each other well enough to tell.
Then, before Abigail could register much in her mind, James stood and brought his lips to hers, gentle and caressing.
People have said that there was usually a spark when two soul mates kissed. However, when these two made contact, it was more like a surge of energy jolted through their bodies and set fire to their skin, electrifying each other’s soul to life through one simple touch.
When James pulled away, he whispered, “Next time, love, let me go with you.”
The weight that statement carried was heavier than either of them were ready to, or even cared to confront just yet. So they left it for another day.
Abigail had come back to him, like her every breath had guaranteed. That was all that mattered.
For now, the two only wanted to relish in the moment of being able to hold each other. Everything else – the rest of the world – could wait.
Fin
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Spoiler! :
I thoroughly enjoyed it. I congratulate you for finishing it, it was definitely fun to review. I'll need to go back and read the previous chapters now xD
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