TILL DEATH DO US PART | JENLISA

FIFTEEN

JENNIE

***

The Way It Could Have Been

December 7th, 2015

***

After spending the night in Lisa’s hospital room, I was hoping things would be different. They have been, but not to the degree I was hoping for. It’s dangerous to have fantasies, as I’ve said many times before.

My exact fantasy was this: in the morning she would open her eyes and look at me. I’d feel the tickle of her gaze on me and wake up. We would talk softly and I would kiss her forehead, glad to see she was feeling a little better. Then, she’d pull my face to her and tell me she loved me before she kissed me senseless.

Seriously, as adolescent as it may be, that is exactly what I imagined right before I fell asleep in her hospital room.

What actually happened was vastly different...

****

I feel something cold against my face. Wet. When I blink my eyes open I’m able to see two things, the clock on the wall telling me it’s 2:45 in the morning and Lisa’s nebulizer leaking solution onto the bed sheet my face is on.

I see Lisa’s hand, her finger twitching under my gaze, and when I lift my head I confirm she is dreaming. Staring, I sit up slowly and watch shadows move over her face as her expressions changes. I wonder what she is dreaming about. I just soak in the image of it, the utter beauty of her face at peace. The way her lashes fan and her lips part with some secret, unspoken whisper. How the natural curl in her hair spools tendrils that circle the apples of her cheeks.

And for a breathless moment, everything falls away and I can pretend I’m lying beside her in our bed like I could a lifetime ago. But then I hear it, and I lean closer because I’m sure I heard the rattle in her chest. The hospital room coalesces around me again and yes, when she takes a breath, the congestion is literally audible.

Lisa coughs and I move back a little as she shifts in the bed, uncomfortable. My poor sweetheart is going to have a really long night and I know I should probably wake her, adjust her bed so she is sitting more upright, but I can’t do it. She should have at least a few minutes more to sleep.

Two minutes later, she takes a deep breath and that’s when I hear the sticky mucus literally web in her bronchus, and her body responds exactly how it should. Lisa coughs and the force of it pulls her into a sitting position. Her eyes are wild and unfocused as she literally coughs hard enough to make her red in the face.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper it, and she shouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of her misery, but she does.

Her eyes fix on me, “Jennie?”

“I’m here. It’ll be okay.”

“Oh God, uh...” She shakes her head, rolling into another coughing fit. I feel the grimace on my face until she leans away from me over the opposite rail of the bed. I’m confused until she makes a gut churning sound.

Oh shit! I jump up and grab the cabinet handle blindly, pulling out the deepest basin I can find. I put it in her hand, and she gets it under her face, a microsecond before she throws up.

“Jennie.” She spits. “Please go outside.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug even though she can’t see me. “It doesn’t bother me.”