him. He’ll never know that he’s the love of my life. I thought he was ignoring me…but, he wasn’t. Instead, he’s lying helpless in a hospital bed. God knows how long he’s been there.”
“Mayson? What do you mean? He’s in a hospital bed? Was he hurt?”
Nodding, I reply, “He was in an accident.”
We sit in silence for several minutes. Elise slowly strokes my arms with her fingertips, trying desperately to comfort me as best she can.
“What on earth am I going to do, Elise?” I ask solemnly, feeling completely defeated.
“You’re getting on the next plane to Denver . And I’m going with you,” Elise replies confidently as she strokes my hair. “You’re not going to lose him, Daph. You’re going to sit by his bed, talk to him and help him wake up. And then, you’re going to spill your guts and get your damn happily ever after.” I nod, wiping away the tears on my cheeks.
We arrive in Denver the following day. The hotel we’ve booked is only a few blocks away from St. Joseph ’s Hospital, so we quickly check in to the hotel and start walking. It’s early afternoon and Elise suggests stopping for lunch, but I can’t. I must get to Mayson. She holds my hand as we ride the elevator to his floor. The nurse directs us towards his room and I feel like I’m swaying through a dream. This can’t actually be happening. The only man I’ve ever loved can’t possibly be here fighting for his life.
“Deep breaths, Daphne, it’s going to be okay.” Elise says softly, “I’m going to wait in the elevator lobby. You go ahead inside,” she continues as we approach his room. I see Mayson through the glass. His beautiful, sandy brown hair is no more. His head has been shaved and a long cut lingers across the right side of his head. His eyes are closed and he’s hooked up to several machines, IV bags giving him much needed nourishment. He looks like he’s lost a significant amount of weight and I wonder how long he’s been like this. When did this happen? Did it happen while I was so carelessly kissing Evan on the dance floor? Did it happen when I was in bed with Evan, trying desperately to forget Mayson? Or did it happen when I was saying goodbye to Evan awkwardly at my back door wishing I could take it all back? Guilt plagues me and I can think only of the betrayal that I’ve committed. I am a horrible person, a horrible girlfriend. I do not deserve him.
I scan the room, and I’m relieved to find it empty, for I feel my guilt is a being in and of itself, standing next to me, shouting my betrayals to the world. Mayson is lying lifeless in the small bed. His arms are stretched out at his sides, and tubes are in his mouth. His chest rises and falls in a hypnotic rhythm. Tears pull at my eyes as I stare at him from the foot of the bed. My once strong and vibrant love is now so still, so calm, so broken.
My legs feel uneasy so I grab an armchair from the corner of the room. Bringing it to the side of the bed, I sit and lock my hand with Mayson’s. I am powerless to stop the tears that pour from my eyes. I am kissing his hand, stroking it and looking at him through swollen eyes.
“Oh, Mayse. What the hell happened?” I weep, stroking his thumb, his fingers, his wrist, hoping that somehow, my touch will magically bring him back to me. But, it doesn’t. His chest continues to rise and fall with the machines. The IV continues to drip softly into his veins, and the guilt in my heart continues to haunt me. It is time to confess my sins.
“I did something horrible, Mayse. I betrayed you in the worst possible way. But, if you can just wake up; just wake up and talk with me about it, I know things can get better. I can be better…for you. Please, Mayse…” I sob uncontrollably into his limp hand.
“I know that I don’t deserve you. But, the past few months have been the best and worst of
“Mayson? What do you mean? He’s in a hospital bed? Was he hurt?”
Nodding, I reply, “He was in an accident.”
We sit in silence for several minutes. Elise slowly strokes my arms with her fingertips, trying desperately to comfort me as best she can.
“What on earth am I going to do, Elise?” I ask solemnly, feeling completely defeated.
“You’re getting on the next plane to Denver . And I’m going with you,” Elise replies confidently as she strokes my hair. “You’re not going to lose him, Daph. You’re going to sit by his bed, talk to him and help him wake up. And then, you’re going to spill your guts and get your damn happily ever after.” I nod, wiping away the tears on my cheeks.
We arrive in Denver the following day. The hotel we’ve booked is only a few blocks away from St. Joseph ’s Hospital, so we quickly check in to the hotel and start walking. It’s early afternoon and Elise suggests stopping for lunch, but I can’t. I must get to Mayson. She holds my hand as we ride the elevator to his floor. The nurse directs us towards his room and I feel like I’m swaying through a dream. This can’t actually be happening. The only man I’ve ever loved can’t possibly be here fighting for his life.
“Deep breaths, Daphne, it’s going to be okay.” Elise says softly, “I’m going to wait in the elevator lobby. You go ahead inside,” she continues as we approach his room. I see Mayson through the glass. His beautiful, sandy brown hair is no more. His head has been shaved and a long cut lingers across the right side of his head. His eyes are closed and he’s hooked up to several machines, IV bags giving him much needed nourishment. He looks like he’s lost a significant amount of weight and I wonder how long he’s been like this. When did this happen? Did it happen while I was so carelessly kissing Evan on the dance floor? Did it happen when I was in bed with Evan, trying desperately to forget Mayson? Or did it happen when I was saying goodbye to Evan awkwardly at my back door wishing I could take it all back? Guilt plagues me and I can think only of the betrayal that I’ve committed. I am a horrible person, a horrible girlfriend. I do not deserve him.
I scan the room, and I’m relieved to find it empty, for I feel my guilt is a being in and of itself, standing next to me, shouting my betrayals to the world. Mayson is lying lifeless in the small bed. His arms are stretched out at his sides, and tubes are in his mouth. His chest rises and falls in a hypnotic rhythm. Tears pull at my eyes as I stare at him from the foot of the bed. My once strong and vibrant love is now so still, so calm, so broken.
My legs feel uneasy so I grab an armchair from the corner of the room. Bringing it to the side of the bed, I sit and lock my hand with Mayson’s. I am powerless to stop the tears that pour from my eyes. I am kissing his hand, stroking it and looking at him through swollen eyes.
“Oh, Mayse. What the hell happened?” I weep, stroking his thumb, his fingers, his wrist, hoping that somehow, my touch will magically bring him back to me. But, it doesn’t. His chest continues to rise and fall with the machines. The IV continues to drip softly into his veins, and the guilt in my heart continues to haunt me. It is time to confess my sins.
“I did something horrible, Mayse. I betrayed you in the worst possible way. But, if you can just wake up; just wake up and talk with me about it, I know things can get better. I can be better…for you. Please, Mayse…” I sob uncontrollably into his limp hand.
“I know that I don’t deserve you. But, the past few months have been the best and worst of
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