Still With Me

Jeremy wanted to argue, but Victoria pressed her mouth to his. Their kiss lasted a long time. Then she pulled away and stood up. He held onto her hand. He had so many questions, especially about his parents. What did they think about his suicide attempt? Were they angry?

“I’ll let you rest. It’s late. They didn’t give me permission to stay with you tonight. I’m not your wife, after all.”

“You will be soon,” he said weakly.

“Shhhh…I’m hoping for a more romantic proposal and in a place that’s more charming. Just because we made love for the first time in a hospital room doesn’t mean all our big moments have to happen here.” She laughed and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered. “I hope you get better overnight.”

After Victoria left, Jeremy suddenly became aware of the darkness in the room. A cold wave washed over him, and yet he was sweating. He wanted to sit up, but he realized he could no longer control his arms and legs. Breathing became difficult.

A panic attack.

Jeremy tried in vain to regain control. He imagined the moments Victoria had described and thought he tasted whiskey in his mouth. Beads of sweat dripped down his face. He wanted to call out, but no sound left his throat. He groped for the alarm button on his bed but couldn’t find it. His vision blurred. He opened his eyes wide with fear so that they wouldn’t close permanently. He tried to push away the idea of death. Not now…not when he had a reason to live.

He heard a strange voice, cavernous and dark, coming from the side of the bed. He looked over, and sitting next to him he saw an old man. He had a white beard and wore a dark suit. The man rocked back and forth steadily with his eyes closed. He was saying Kaddish, the prayer of mourning that all Jewish people recite to reaffirm their commitment to their faith: a prayer for the dead that borrowed beauty from life.

“May his great name be exalted and sanctified in the world which he created according to his will…” The old man contorted, articulating each word firmly, as if he was trying to convince an invisible power. His voice rumbled painfully.

Jeremy watched him in terror. He thought of his parents and wished they were at his side. He’d turned back into the scared little boy, haunted by a nightmare. Like all those nights after the death of his little sister. Where were they now? Were they dead from shame after his suicide attempt? They loved him so much. How could he have hurt them so much?

He shouted, “Mother!” but only a low growl escaped his knotted throat.

The old man finished his prayer and moved closer. He looked down at Jeremy with excruciating pain on his face. He was so close. Jeremy couldn’t help but look into his eyes; they were full of sadness. His skin was weathered and wrinkled and thin as paper. His mouth twisted with inaudible words. Then the old man leaned closer, and Jeremy heard him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, and his words became a plea. “No, it doesn’t have to be! Life, life, life.” Tears came to the man’s eyes as he repeated the word, louder and louder, in a heartbreaking voice.

“Life.

“Life.

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nbsp; “Life!”

A tear fell from the man’s face onto Jeremy’s hand, burning him where it landed.

Pain was the last thing he felt.

THREE

Jeremy must have overslept. Numb with a pleasant lethargy, he felt good. Suddenly, memories of the night before came back to him: his struggle to breathe and move, the old man’s sudden appearance, his words and his tears. Jeremy could feel the burning sensation on his hand.

Then he heard what sounded like a quiet whimper. Fear tingled his consciousness, and he opened his eyes to look for the old man. He sat up abruptly, and flashes of light shot through his spinning head. He wasn’t at the hospital anymore. He was back in the room where he had first woken up.

The whimpering stopped.

He took stock of his body, trying to understand his presence in this bed, and stopped cold. On his left ring finger a gold wedding band glinted in the morning sunlight.

What is this? Where’s Victoria?

He called out to her weakly. The whimpers started up again.

Jeremy called out again, this time with more force. For a brief moment, perfect silence fell. Then a piercing scream rang out right next to him, startling Jeremy. Inside a wicker basket a few inches to his right, a baby stretched his little body in an effort to expel the angry howls. Crimson, he screamed until he was out of breath, gasped, hiccupped, and started all over again. Dumbfounded, Jeremy felt like he was actor and audience for the same scene.

Where did that baby come from?

A ringing telephone finally broke the repetitive rhythm of the baby’s cries. Jeremy tried to locate the phone by focusing intently during the few seconds the baby paused to catch his breath. The telephone had already rung four or five times by the time he found it.