Don't Kiss the Bride

When I get to my room, I let out a sigh of relief when I see everything looks exactly the same. My things are all where I left them, untouched. Waiting.

Except my bed.

The comforter is curiously rumpled, the pillow dented as if someone has been laying on it. Slowly, I cross the room to sit on it. Jude’s signature cologne is undeniably clinging to the pillow and the blanket, and it conjures up a flash of memories that almost bring me to tears. Hugging. Kissing. Touching.

He’s been sleeping in my bed. Or, at the very least, lying on it.

My heart shimmies with hope that he misses me as much as I miss him.

He’s sleeping when I arrive at his room in the hospital, and it’s probably for the best because I need a moment to just look at him. To watch him breathe and give my heart time to calm down and believe that he’s going to be okay.

His upper body is propped up on pillows. An IV line snakes into a vein in his arm. Beside the bed is a tray on wheels holding a small pitcher of water, a cup, and a plastic tray.

I’m caught off guard by how pale and vulnerable he looks. Jude has always exuded strength and masculinity. He’s always the powerhouse in the room.

But not today.

Today he is bruised and weak.

I blink back tears, refusing to let them well up in my eyes.

I need to be strong today, because that’s what marriage is sometimes. You take turns being the strong one.

Quietly, I move to stand next to his bed, and softly touch his hand. I fight the urge to bend down and kiss his stubbled and bruised cheek, not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t want to startle him awake and make his head hurt. My touch causes him to stir and open his eyes. Blinking, he stares at me with his forehead creased. For a brief second there’s a blankness, a total lack of focus in his eyes that scares the hell out of me, but it passes quickly, and a slow smile curves his lips.

“Sparkles…” His voice is a rough whisper.

“Hi. I came as soon as I could.”

He squeezes my hand, and my heart clenches like a vise when a tear slips from the corner of his eye. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he says hoarsely.

I can’t resist any longer. I lean down and gently kiss his cheek.

“How do you feel?” I ask softly.

“Tired.”

I suck my lower lip between my teeth as his eyelids twitch and then gradually close.

“Just rest,” I say.

“Stay,” he whispers, before he drifts off again.

“I’ll be right here.” Without letting go of his hand, I pull the guest chair close to the bed and settle in it. I stay just like that, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps.

I’ve missed him, and the life we inadvertently created together. I wish we could go back and untangle the threads that made a mess of things between us. I wish we could erase the doubts and fears that took hold of us and tore us away from each other. None of it seems to matter when reality such as this moment is staring me in the face. It wouldn’t matter if I were a hundred, or five, or any age in between—I would still love and care about this man with my whole heart and soul.

“Excuse me.” A soft voice and a hand on my arm wakes me. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are ending in five minutes.”

I rub my face and stare up at the nurse, then look over at Jude, who’s still sleeping.

Sitting up, I stretch my stiff neck. “Can I stay a little longer?” I ask in a hushed tone. “I’m his wife, but I was out of town when he got hurt. I don’t want to leave him.”

She smiles with sympathy. “I’m sorry, but it’s hospital policy.”

“I understand,” I reply, quietly standing. “Is he okay? Is it normal for him to be so tired?”

“Yes, that’s normal for a head injury like this. He’s doing fine. He might be discharged tomorrow after the doctor does his rounds.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

I push the chair back in the corner and pick up my purse before I stand by the edge of the bed. I don’t want to leave him. I wish I could hear his voice, see his smile, before I leave.

I wish I could tell him I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.

I wish he could tell me why he didn’t stop me.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” I whisper, and blow him a kiss before I leave.

I call Aunt Suzy, and then my father, on my drive back home to let them know that Jude seems to be doing okay. My dad attempts to start the you need a new start in life conversation but I cut him short. I’m too worried about Jude to think about divorce and moving to a new state for a fresh start.