That Boy [bxb] - sequel to P.B.

Resurgence

14

Saturday

The surrealistic week following our goodbyes to Matthew carried with it the importance of respite on the soul. Throughout this all, I have died so many times, each death of my being revived by the eminence that transcends Matthew Jenkins.

Each breath I had taken as each day passed was laced with the relief that, on that fateful day, Matty's life was not withdrawn from him. The ample moment transmuted into a scene of combat, vengeance, a fight for life. I am almost convinced that he knew, grabbing the clutches of his life with his hands and pulling, pulling until his head reached the surface of light.

It was as if Matty's body, his whole moral being, against all odds, refused to surrender to the impending darkness.

Matty's parents had risen with heavy hearts, their weakened legs leading them to a room where their middle child's last breaths would be respired. Instead, unforeseen news met with them halfway. His vitals were stabilising; he had a chance. Tina and David decided to bid on that gamble. I will forever lay my world at their feet for the decision they made.

Matty, who lay in his hospital bed for a fortnight, emerged as a symbol of unexpected hope. Two days later, following a unanimous decision by the doctors that he could withstand his life without it, it was disconnected. Undeterred, Matty pressed on, gifting proof of his ability to defy all odds and prove everybody wrong.

If he could, he would laugh at the phrase 'no chance of survival'.

With ups and downs, and moments where the world stood still, my pride flourished as Matty grew to improve. The beeping monitors, once signalling a fading life, had transformed into a rhythm of persistence, budding stronger with each passing day.

Despite what the movies and the books may say, coming out of a coma is not suave. I had expected him to be awake as soon as I came to see him the day after 'Life Support Day', but the disappointment that came crashing down upon me when I was told that he was still in the coma was more than I could have anticipated.

However, I have been imparted with the valuable lesson of patience by a man who could not see the morals he had taught me. I was eventually glad for Matty to have longer to gradually regain his strength rather than being thrown in at the deep end.

Take your time, my angel.

After three weeks without his consciousness, I am still in the same position, sedentary next to his bed as I stare at him, his beautiful face and lips that are no longer shielded by a breathing tube. His gaunt cheeks, pale from lack of nutrition, still shine a beauty that could never depart from him.

Suddenly, I see a twitch in his eyes as if he has just blinked with his eyes closed. My heart skips a beat as I lean in, searching for any other sign of life. Until this moment, the only movement I have been aware that he has made was twitches in his hands.

And there it is. Ever so slowly, Matty's eyelids begin to open. My heart is in my throat as I witness the first glimmer of my boyfriend's awakening. It feels as if the entire world, alongside me, has paused for this miraculous moment.

Matty's gaze appears vacant, leaving no doubt about its lack of awareness. Nonetheless, I find myself grappling with whether it is merely a coincidence that he is looking right at me. His dormant honey eyes bear into mine like he is trying, deep down trying, to communicate with me.

"Your eyes..." I utter, my own darting around his face, desperate to capture any additional movement elsewhere. "Holy crap, baby, your eyes have opened!"