A/N: I ask you one small thing to do before you read this, or I should probably say, "AS you read this." Go onto YouTube and type in, "Mermaid Chair" from Secret Garden. Play that song, to enhance the feel as you read this. Believe me, it helps a MILLION. Thanks guys! – Harley xx.
As I stared up at the tall, opposing building that was the local hospital, I stared at the many glowing windows, thinking of all the people who could be inside, waiting for someone to come and see them. I can barely move. I know where I'm going; I know why I'm here. But my body just refuses to move. I don't want to know the truth, and I most definitely don't want to see him. It's late, and rain patters around me, the ground a wet, wide open canvas. The cold wind bites my back, pushing my hair around my face, reminding me why I'm here; to go inside, and see him.
I walk through the sliding glass doors of the hospital.
When we were younger, before we were married, we had only been seventeen; we sat by the beach around this time. We had watched the waves, and just talked. We did nothing a normal couple would do, but we spoke to one another. Most of the time, I felt myself smiling as I turned to him, and saw his brown eyes smiling back at me. His eyes would stray over my face and hair before finally resting on my lips. He would turn away, and his glossy brown hair whipped slightly in the breeze, my own red hair became entangled with sand, but I didn't mind. Anything to keep him around me just a little longer.
I pull a sheet from my pocket, with instructions on the room I need to go to. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. And look around for a set of stairs or an elevator. Over there, to the left.
He lay back in the sand, his tall frame slid back graciously he, folded his hands beneath his head. He pointed out the stars and names almost all of them, throwing in a few of his own names. I smile at him, as he recites them, and he patted the sand beside him, gesturing for me to lie beside him. I did so, my hair spilling over the sand, as I folded my hands across my stomach. Our heads were leaning in close together, his hand was outstretched toward the stars, guiding me through them all.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I glance around looking for a small map on how to get to the ninth floor. When I find nothing, I go straight to the elevators, mashing several buttons until a door finally opens.
He grabbed my hand in his, as I too reached out to the sky. He sat up and studied my nails, my fingers and my palm. He softly tickled my palm, and sang a nursery rhyme. I wasn't ticklish, but for him, I pretended I was. I sat up, taking my hand from his. I dug my hands and nails into the sand, in hopes he wouldn't see them shake, so that I wouldn't reach out right here and now, and try to kiss him.
At least I can say I tried.
The door dings, letting me know I've reached my floor, and I can barely move. I don't want to, I'm too scared. But the doors quickly close again, and I'm left standing alone in the empty elevator, a shaking mess, as casual calm elevator music plays in the background. I quickly press the button that will open the door, before someone else tries getting this elevator.
His lips tasted like caramel.
Probably because he'd finished a caramel milkshake recently. As I leaned in, our foreheads rested against each other, and I left my eyes facing down, down at his hands that had taken mine, and played with the tips. I watched our hands dance like ballet performers, and I knew he looked up at me, when I felt his eyelashes brush my cheeks. Those thick black lashes were beautiful, and in the moonlight by the beach, they stood out even more brightly. His skin almost glowed in the lighting, and I almost gasped in amazement of his beauty, but I stopped myself. I felt his jeans rub against my uncovered knees as he looked at me. I blushed and smiled. I asked him what was it? He had said only one word and kept kissing me.
I walked right up to the nurse's desk, sure now they had made a mistake, and I would leave here, a happy married woman, and go home to find him waiting for me, asking, where had I been? What was I up to? The man behind the desk looked up as I approached. The halls were quiet and we were the only ones in sight. He must've been expecting me, because as he stood he shook my hand and introduced himself. He walked down the hall without another word, and I followed him right into a long, cold wide open room, with no windows. He switched on a light to reveal one lonesome bed.
He walked me home that night, our hands swinging as we walked. We talked about everything possible. We had known each other since we were fourteen, yet we had never been this close. He had many goals, and aspirations, and surprisingly, he asked me if I would help him fill some of them. One, including, being his future wide and mothering of his kids. I didn't know what to say. I loved him, and had for years. I had considered it before, but was never really serious. I threw my arms around him in joy. Four years later, we're married and I'm three months pregnant.
2 months later – Present.
I stand in the doorway still, my heart pounding a mile a minute in my chest. The nurse explains how he got my phone number, and he said that he knew I was the person he was looking for, as he'd seen my photo in my husband's wallet. I nodded, and swallowed as the nurse beckoned me over. I half wanted him to hug my shoulders, I was so worried. But he was a professional, and I was just another client to him. Another relative I should say. He sees people like me every day.
I see his face first. My husband's face. His beautiful skin, and dark lips. But his eyes are closed, in a sleeping trance. I step closer to him, moving closer to the bed, and the clergymen nurse moves away. I brush my husband's hair from his face, and kiss his forehead, as finally I let the tears fall from my eyes.