Withering Hope

"You should take it easy. There are lots of people here to see you. Maggie, half a dozen of our friends."

I tear my gaze from the crane outside and focus it on his shoes. I swallow hard, trying to find the courage to ask him about the person I want to see most.

He spares me the question. "Tristan is here too. Waiting anxiously for you to wake up."

Without meeting his eyes I ask, "How is he?"

"Tristan is in perfect shape. The doctors made sure of that. He's just waiting for the woman he loves to wake up."

It's here at last. The moment of truth. I raise my gaze to meet his. "How do you know?"

Chris smiles. "You have his name inked on your skin, and he has yours. The few times the nurses woke you up you did nothing but call for him. I know because I was right next to you the first few times. Until I couldn't take it anymore and left him at your side. "

"Chris…"

"Don't," he turns his back to me sharply. Hands in his pockets, he stares at the white wall. "I don't blame you and I don't resent you. But I don't want to hear all the reasons you fell in love with him." I remain silent. "You never loved me the way you love him, did you?"

I shake my head, then realize he can't see me. It takes all I have to mutter, "It's different—” He cuts me off.

"Good. That means he must make you very happy. That's what I always wanted for you."

Tears break out, running down my cheeks. I remove the cover from my feet, but find that I can't move without a sharp pain in my left ankle where the snakes bit me. I haven'

t made a full recovery yet, it seems. I remain in my bed.

"How are you, Chris?"

"Dreadful. I spent the past four months wanting to die because I thought you were dead. Then I find you, but you're not mine to love anymore." His breathy voice undoes me. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood to keep from bursting into more tears. "I lost my fiancée somewhere in the rainforest, didn't I, Aimee?" He chooses the hardest moment of all to spin around and face me. I suppose he wants to look right at me when I deliver the final blow. I can't blame him for that.

"But not your best friend, Chris. She's still here."

He nods, one single tear rolling down his cheek.

"I need time, Aimee. To adjust to all this."

"I understand. I wish I could give you the ring back, but I… I suppose you left my suitcase in the forest. I put the ring in it. I couldn't wear it anymore."

"I wouldn't have expected it any other way."

"I did wear it for a long time. It reminded me of us—"

"Until you didn't want to be reminded of us anymore." It breaks me to be reminded of how well he knows me. "I debated leaving the moment the doctors said you were out of any danger. I thought of leaving you a letter. But I needed closure before I left."

I gulp. "Where are you going?"

“New York. The subsidiary there has needed my attention for some time. Now's a good time to fly there for a prolonged stay."

"You don't have to leave because of this… I… Tristan and I can leave."

"No need. I already made arrangements."

"Chris…" I beg. The thought of losing my best friend terrifies me. But what can I ask of him? Nothing.

He comes to my bed, sitting on its edge, next to me. I search for words to console him, but none come. There is nothing I can tell the man who has been by my side since childhood and who has never been anything but kind to me. In his clear blue eyes I can see that he doesn't want my words. So I keep them to myself. I'll put them in a letter and send it to him later. In it, I will lay out all my thanks and all my sorrys. "I promise I will return when I am able to think of you as simply my best friend. Until then, my place is not here." He leans in, kissing my forehead. His lips still on my forehead he mutters, "Now, it's high time to tell Tristan you're up."

When Chris walks to the door, the anticipation of seeing Tristan is overshadowed by a deep sense of loss. Chris doesn't say it, but after walking out that door, I know I won't see him again for a long time. I look elsewhere when he exits, and I don't glance at the door again until I hear it crack open and a familiar voice whispers, "Aimee."

The sound drizzles warmth all over my skin, sprinkling beads of happiness, relief, and so much more. Though still thin, he's wearing fresh clothes, his skin boasting a healthy glow I haven't seen on him in months.