Dad glanced at me from his chair. “Why don’t you go home and try to sleep?”
Looking from Jake’s body to Dad’s face, I gestured toward the bed. “You’re kidding, right? I can’t sleep right now.”
“I know,” he replied, “but you should try. Call Audrey and have her pick you up. We’ll tell you if anything changes.”
As I looked back to Jake and heard again the whoosh of the machine pushing air in and out of his lungs, my throat tightened and my chest immediately felt like it’d burst. Fuck, I didn’t want to cry, not again, but how could I even think of sleeping in my comfortable bed while he was fighting for his life? That’s what I should’ve been doing, that was my job. But what the fuck could I do now?
“I don’t wanna leave him,” I admitted in a broken whisper.
Dad reached out and gripped my arm. “I know, and he knows that, too. But you’re no good to him when you’re so tired.”
“What about you guys?”
“We’ll take shifts,” Mom said softly, meeting my eyes with something close to affection.
So, reluctantly, I nodded and called Audrey. I stayed at Jake’s side as I waited, just in case, hoping he’d wake up or show some sign of life, but there was none. When Audrey texted to let me know she was there, I held his hand, leaned in close to his ear, and whispered through a throat clotted with tears, “You better not die on me, buddy, you got it? I love you. Don’t fucking die.”
I slumped into the car and kept my eyes on the sunny sky. It was uncharacteristically warm on this winter day and all the snow had melted. If this was some kind of a joke, it wasn’t funny.
“How is he?” Audrey asked quietly, turning down the volume of her music. Some country station she insisted on keeping programmed in my car.
“Still alive,” I muttered.
“That’s something,” she assured me, reaching out to rest her hand against my leg.
We drove toward Salem and I began to think about all of Jake’s things. His toys, movies, and puzzles. Mickey’s bowl in the kitchen. I swallowed at another build-up of emotion and said, “I don’t think I can be in that house right now.”
“Okay,” she replied. “We can go to my place. You have clothes there.”
Clothes? I glanced down at my sweatpants, socks, open leather jacket and bare chest beneath. Jesus Christ, I hadn’t noticed I’d been like this since arriving at the hospital nearly five hours ago. I laid a hand over my eyes and shook my head, overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness, patience, and unwavering kindness.
“I don’t deserve you,” I muttered.
“I love you.”
“You shouldn’t,” I insisted. “I’m a fucking wreck.”
“Well, I still love you.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d want a psychopath who can’t keep his crap together,” I said, remembering how I screamed at her outside of the hospital. “I can’t imagine why you’d want a guy who gets so defensive and flips out when shit really hits the fan.”
“But that’s who you are,” she whispered, glancing at me. “You fight hard and love even harder, and that’s what I want. I want you.”
I relented with a silent nod and she drove us the rest of the way to her house. Her mother was surprised to see us pull up to the curb, and upon seeing my disheveled state, asked urgently what had happened. Audrey promised she’d talk to her later, but first, she led me to her bathroom and helped me undress like I couldn’t do it myself. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I could. She ran the shower, took off her clothes, and pulled me under the spray of water to wash my hair and scrub away the morning’s tears and pain. She dried me off, helped me into clean clothes, brought me to her bed and ordered me to lie down. I listened and waited as she made me some toast and tea, with an insistence that I should get something in my stomach. When she returned, I could only stare at her, feeling both bewildered and unworthy.
I hadn’t asked her to do this, none of this, or any of the things she’d done in the months I’d known her. But she did it anyway, and with so much grace and selflessness, that through knowing her, I knew God must exist. Because while someone as fucked-up as me could exist in this world, there was also her, so brilliantly flawless and beautiful, to love me in spite of it all and to balance out every one of my imperfections. And that was perfect, and only a perfect being could make sure of something like that.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” I said frankly, as she crawled into bed beside me.
“What do you mean? When?”
“Ever,” I stated, wrapping my arms around her and burrowing my face against her chest.
“I left you today,” she whispered, guilt-ridden and apologetic.
“But you didn’t really. You gave me space. That’s not the same as leaving altogether,” I insisted, allowing her heartbeat to lure me toward sleep. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“I won’t,” she promised, stroking her fingers gently through my hair.
“I fucking love you.”
“I love you, too, Blake.”
***
I woke up disoriented and alone. The room was veiled in darkness and the clock beside the bed read that it was eight at night. How long had I been sleeping? Was it even the same day?
I laid there for a few moments, allowing cognizance to settle in, and when it did, I bolted upright with only one thought on my mind: Jake. Logic told me someone would’ve woken me up if something had happened, so that wasn’t necessarily bad, was it? It meant there hadn’t been any change, which was neither bad nor good. And at least he was still here. If he was here, that meant there was a chance and any chance was better than none.
I left the room to find Audrey and her mother sitting on the couch with plates of pizza in hand. Ann looked at me, laying her plate on the coffee table, before standing to approach me.
“Oh, honey, I don’t know what to say, except that I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck.
Hugging her, I nodded and admitted, “I don’t know what to say either, so … thanks.”
“You let me know if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. You need dinners? I got you covered. Laundry? Cleaning? Just let me know. Please.”
“I will,” I assured her, continuing to nod.
Audrey stood up, empty plate in hand, and asked, “Are you hungry? You wanna eat something?”
“Um,” my stomach grumbled in reply and I nodded, “yeah, I think I could eat.”
She hurried into the kitchen to grab me a slice. Ann released me from her grasp and encouraged me to take a seat. But I’d been laying down for so long, I still wasn’t sure how long I’d been sleeping. I needed to do something proactive, something useful.
“Hey, Audrey, where’s my phone?” I asked, sweeping my gaze over the living room.
“Oh, it’s right here,” she called to me, and a few moments later, she came back into the living room with a slice of pizza and my phone in hand. “I charged it while you were sleeping.”
I thanked her sincerely, kissing her forehead before finally taking a seat. I ate, surprised to find myself so hungry, as I checked my phone for messages. Both of my parents had texted me periodically, giving me the infrequent updates throughout the day.