Love and the Sea and Everything in Between

chapter forty

It's been days since I've said a word, not even to Adam's parents. Where there was once anger, now only a hollow numbness remains. I've lost all energy for anything but wandering the hospital halls while the Wests spend time with their son.

I know that Mrs. West reads to him. I watch her through the window. And Mr. West prays for him, I think, every now and then. I watch him, sometimes, kneeling beside his son, holding gently to his arms. My heart breaks every time I see his father's eyes. I never realized until now the depth of a father's love for his son.

I hear things when I wander the hospital hallways. I see things, too. I hear how the doctors don't think Adam's going to pull through. He lost so much blood before they were able to start the transfusion and his body is weak. I can't bear to touch him because I'm afraid he might shatter. So I watch him instead. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, I listen to each shallow breath.

I move to the chair and sit beside him. I'm tired and worn and my entire body feels fragile – as if I've become a porcelain doll. My chest and throat are sore from the crying and from the morning sickness as the baby inside me continues to grow.

I haven't lost hope, Adam. It takes me a minute to realize I'm speaking out loud. My voice is cracked and my mouth is dry from the silent days.

"I won't lose hope," I whisper. "You don't get to stop fighting. You don't get to leave us here alone. Fight, Adam." My resilience begins to crumble as I cry out, "Fight!"

Suddenly, Adam's body starts to seize and I jump back as the heart monitor starts beeping erratically. I freeze, unsure what to do, then dart out of the room, calling for the nurse.

A team of doctors and nurses rushes into his room and one of the nurses grabs my arm, pulling me out. I hesitate. I can't leave him.

"Miss, you need to let us work," the nurse says.

The sound of the doctors shouting orders and the frantic shuffling of feet and the rapid beeping of the machines swallows me as I watch them work through window.

The Wests run up to where I stand, their eyes wide. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Mrs. West, her hands to her mouth as she cries out and I hear Mr. West as he calls out to a God who doesn't seem to hear us anymore.

I watch, waiting for a sign, anything, waiting for him to pull through.

And then I scream, my body reeling backwards, my eyes fixed on the heart monitor as it flatlines.

It's over.

Adam is dead.

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