One nurse relaxes her hold and lowers his injured hand. Another starts taking his temperature and blood pressure.
His face finally finds mine, and I brace myself. His eyes are blank and unknowing… The usual gleaming blue is pale and lifeless. Finally, he speaks.
“Who are you?”
*****
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
The words run through my mind every second of the day. Within seconds of Bryce waking up, he fell back into a coma. That was two days ago.
My parents try to comfort me, but I’m numb. Sheila and Dave stand vigil, hoping he’ll gain consciousness while I dread he’ll wake and again not recognize me.
Doctors say he’s confused and probably has no memory of his brief episode. This seems ironic to me because, while Bryce may have no recollection, I’ll never forget it for as long as I live.
“Sweetie, we’re going to take Sheila down for a coffee and some fresh air. You want to come?” Mom asks.
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay, Dave’s staying here.”
When they leave, Dave starts reading a magazine to Bryce, and I grab my bag. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Devon, if you’d like to go back to our hotel room and get a shower, you are welcome to. Maybe lie down in a bed for a few hours.”
Even though he may not know who I am, the thought of leaving Bryce is terrifying. I shake my head and go to the small bathroom. Panic seizes me, and I fall onto the floor, trying to catch my breath. Hot tears spill down my face, and I bite my cheek with the effort not to cry out. The last thing Dave needs is to witness my breakdown.
I strip and sit in the tub, turning on the shower and letting the hot water pelt down on me. Rocking back and forth, I curl up and wail into my knees. My whole body tremors, and I let the stress, anxiety, and fear pour out.
What will happen if Bryce truly doesn’t remember me? What if he has no memory at all? His parents, his career, his friends? Questions fly around in my head until my ears are ringing and my heart thunders in my chest. Everything on my body hurts. The little bit of food in my stomach comes up, and I rush to the toilet, heaving violently until there’s nothing left.
When I’m confident I can stand, I move under the spray and go through the motions of washing my hair and body. Desperation and rejection spread through me. As pathetic as it sounds, I can’t imagine a life without Bryce loving me.
“Devon? You okay in there?” Dave calls through the door.
“Yes, I’m getting out now.” I cut off the water and step out, forcing myself to sound normal.
“I’m going to step into the hallway and make a call if you need me.”
“Take your time.”
The door to the room shuts, so I hurry to get dressed. A few minutes later, I hear it open and close again, so I slow down, hoping my splotchy cheeks will go back to normal. The voice on the other side of the door stops me all together and sends a chill down my spine.
“Bryce, I am so sorry. I had no idea this would happen. It was the only way you’d talk to me.” Liza’s voice trembles. “You wouldn’t talk to me!”
I swing the door open, and the scene in front of me makes my blood run cold. Liza is standing with Bryce’s hand in her own as tears coat her cheeks. Her eyes fly to mine and flash with surprise.
“What the fuck did you say?” I hiss. “What did you mean, you had no idea this would happen?”
“I thought we were alone,” she has the audacity to say.
“There is no ‘we’ when it comes to you and Bryce. But, apparently, you’re too much of a fucking dumbass bitch to understand that.” I stomp to her and take his hand away. “Step the fuck back.”
Wisely, she backs away.