Oliver opens his mouth and closes it again without speaking.
‘I thought not.’
‘I’m so sorry, Anna.’
‘Fuck you.’ I push past him and run into my bedroom, throw myself onto my bed and cry as though my heart is breaking.
As though my heart is breaking again.
I’ve been holding Adam’s hand for hours; my fingers tingle with pins and needles but I don’t let go of him for a second. I’m in despair that Oliver has given up on us. It’s only a matter of time before he sends us home. A few days ago I’d been searching for a way to fly us back to the UK but now the thought of being in a crowded NHS hospital, with overworked nurses who have the best intentions but not enough time for their patients, is horribly depressing. I know Oliver will initially send us to a private hospital but he can’t fund that forever, can he?
Two years. Twelve years. Twenty years.
Here, with this large private room, with Luis and the team, Adam is in the best hands. Will he even survive a flight?
I have never felt more alone.
Oliver cracks open the door.
‘Anna, do you want to talk?’ he asks, but I don’t reply. Anything I say would come out in a rush of anger or a rush of tears and neither would be helpful. When he said his decision was final, I knew that he meant it. There is nothing to say that we haven’t already said. If I’d thought things looked bleak before, now they are desolate.
‘Anna?’ Oliver says again, but I do not answer because he has taken all the words. He has taken all of my hope.
‘Night then.’ He slips away. Luis is dozing on a chair in the corner and I am alone once more with too much time and too many thoughts.
It is quiet. At home Adam would always be streaming Spotify. Oasis would be ‘Supersonic’, the Arctic Monkeys asking ‘Do I Wanna Know’.
Oliver has connected to Adam and seen nothing. Has all of this been only in my mind? My desire manifesting a happy marriage, a baby. Conversations flowing with kindness and respect. The trial had made me fall in love with my husband all over again but have I fallen in love with him or an ideal my mind has created? The version of a life I so desperately wanted. I close my eyes and try to recall the details of giving birth, but it doesn’t seem real.
What if it wasn’t?
But I can hear the cry of my child that I never got to hold. Never got to find out if it was a boy or a girl.
Now Oliver has said we can’t try again, I will never know.
The room, which had fallen into shadows, slips into darkness. The only glow a soft yellow lamp angled towards Adam’s bed. Luis sneezes.
‘Excuse me.’
‘Are you okay?’ I whisper. He’s been quiet today.
‘Coming down with a cold, I think.’
‘Should you be near Adam?’ I’m alarmed.
‘I think I’ll find someone to cover me. Get some rest.’
‘It’s late,’ I say. ‘Go and have a lie down in your room. I’m not going to sleep.’
‘Adam can’t be alone.’
‘He won’t be. I’m here. The alarm will sound if there’s a problem and I’ll call you if I’m worried, I promise.’
It’s a minute before he answers. ‘Okay. I’m going to crash for a couple of hours. I’ll set my alarm but come and get me if you need me in the meantime.’
He slips out of the room. My mind races.
Thirty minutes.
That’s all I am allowed to be connected to Adam for. After that time my nose streams with blood and my head throbs. What would happen if we stayed connected for an hour? Two? Three? Adam’s condition is spider-web fragile, his mind and his body, but what about mine? Would my brain cope with prolonged exposure to the tech? Or would there be no recovery for me?
Behind my eyes are spikes of tiredness but I can’t stop wondering.
What if.
What if.
What if.
Everything I need is in the next room. Oliver has demonstrated how to set it up. How it works. How to set the timer. Somewhere in the muddle of my mind, one thought burns brighter than the rest.
I could connect to Adam again. Here. Now. Before Luis comes back and Oliver comes to send me home.
Thirty minutes.
Or the rest of the night.
The rest of my life.
If it is too much and my mind can’t cope, perhaps there is a chance I would stay with Adam. That our consciousness can be together, even if our physical bodies can’t.
I know there’s a chance that this might be dangerous. That mentally I might never come back from this. But somewhere, Adam waits for me. My baby waits for me. I imagine dressing their tiny body in the lemon sleepsuit covered in bears, still wrapped in tissue paper as fragile as my heart. I can do this, I can. I am steadfast in the belief that there is something beyond the realms of our imagination. Something extraordinary and incomprehensible to us as we live out our too-short lives on this planet we call home. I know there is something; I’ve been there and there has to be a way I can stay there for good. Here, there is nothing for me because a world without Adam doesn’t make sense to me. My need to be with my husband. My child. It overrides everything else. So what if I die trying? What I’m doing now, the way I’m feeling, is hardly living.
I’m going to find a way to reach Adam without Oliver.
I’m going to find a way to stay with him.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Anna
I had waited for twenty minutes before creeping into Luis’s room. He’d been flat out on his back, snoring. I switched off the alarm he had set. Hopefully his fever would keep him asleep for hours. It had been a struggle to slide Adam from his bed onto a trolley and from the trolley onto the table but love, the thought of being with Adam once more, had given me strength.
I hold Adam’s hand. Praying I have fixed everything up properly.
I must have done because suddenly I am falling. Dizzy. Disorientated.
Scared and confused, until…
A baby cries.
It has worked.
‘Your turn,’ Adam mumbles, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow. I sit up, ecstatic. Eager to take this turn, every turn. My heart bursting with happiness.
It has worked.
By the dim nightlight plugged in under the window, I see the outline of a Moses basket. Inside it, a small face screwed up with rage, damp curls plastered to a forehead, tiny hands fisted, is a baby.
My baby.
The room starts to spin and at first I am terrified I’m going to find myself back in the Institute. I steady myself, one hand resting on the wall, realizing I’m not going anywhere. I am, however, completely swamped with a rush of new emotions.
‘Hello, you,’ I whisper. I don’t yet know whether I’m mum to a boy or a girl, but a pure, unfiltered love sweeps through me, snatching my breath. A balance of tenderness and strength. A sudden knowing that I would lay down my life to protect theirs. It’s incredible that I feel all of this and more within seconds of becoming a mum.
A mum!
Then, another sound. The bark of a dog. My eyes are drawn to another wicker basket, this time by the door. A golden puppy clambers out with huge floppy ears and a wagging tail.
I scoop my child into my chest as Adam says, ‘Shush, Dug. It’s just Harry, hungry again.’
Harry!