Oblivion (Completed)

Henley

A Memory

I'm heartsick. Broken. No matter how much air I take in, I can't seem to fill the emptiness in my chest. It's no wonder my lungs ache; in the hours I've been here, the nurses have told me to calm down at least a hundred times. "You're hyperventilating, dear," they say.

Yeah, no shit. I've been in this damn waiting room for going on three hours and have no idea what they've done to him. "Drink some water and rest. You'll be no good to him if you're laid up, too..." they say.

And I know they're right. I'm sure they see dozens of these kinds of situations daily, some probably even more grim; but in my worst nightmares I couldn't dream up something more terrifying than this moment. My head throbs as I picture him lying there on a cold metal table, sterile instruments pressing into his skin, guided by sterile gloved hands of men and women who've dedicated their lives to doing just this-saving another's. I know he's where he needs to be and there's nothing more I can do for him aside from telling him I love him and begging him to live, but I still feel so helpless. Like I'm doing nothing at all. Like I could lose him at any given second and spend the rest of my life wondering if he heard the things I screamed as they pulled him from that car.

"I love you. I need you. Please don't leave me..." I screamed over and over again.

I hope he heard my words, just like I hope he's holding onto them for dear life right now. I can't stand to think he's stuck with the memories of everything I said before them and the anguished look in my eyes as he walked away like he was doing nothing more than making a quick trip to the gas station.

I can't help but wonder which one of us is more selfish-him, for going against my wishes even when I begged him not to, or me. I put myself in front of dreams he's been chasing since childhood and was surprised when he didn't pick me. My heart was aching long before the crash and the blood. Long before the sights and sounds I can't shake out of my head. But my anger and disappointment in him all fell away the moment I nearly lost him. They were the slowest moments of my life and every breath I've taken since just hasn't felt the same.

My reality now is this-I have a loving husband who means more to me than anyone ever has. We're all human and make mistakes, but he promised to love me and cherish me me until the day he dies, and I won't accept that day as today.

It's unreal. I've been through a lot in my life, but never like this. I've always kicked shit to the side and moved on...but there's no such thing as moving on without Ryan. And that's why I can't think past this moment.

My legs bounce nervously and I squeeze my eyes so tightly I see stars. I really need a smoke, but I'm terrified the second I do will be the very same second they'll say he's out of surgery. Screw it. I think my bad luck's run out for the day. I bite my lip and dig inside my purse for my box of cigarettes, desperate to feel something familiar.

I'm outside in the warm Nevada air for less than five minutes-just enough to feed my addiction and grab some fresh air. This city is crazy; I fell in love here. Married Ryan here. And now I'm losing him here, in our city of sin and loneliness.

I'm so worn...so wrecked that my hand shakes as I bring the cigarette up to my lips and take a long, slow drag. And honestly, I do feel a little better even if it's all chemical and temporary. I close my eyes and try to conjure up all the happy moments I've shared with him over the last few months-the almost instant chemistry between us the very first day we met. His warm hands and lips on my bare skin. Driving for days and weeks with no end in sight, conquering the ordinary and defying our better judgement. Falling in love and committing to that love with vows that promised we'd be here one day-in sickness and in health. And here I am in sickness, hoping like hell we'll get another day to live out the other side of our promise.