Page 71
Story: Mister Marriage
“He’s still in surgery for his leg and possible internal injuries.”
Andi joined the vigil, and the afternoon wore on. After my fifteenth visit to the volunteer desk, Lisa gestured to Andi. The other woman didn’t look good. Each hour seemed to drain more of her belief, like air draining out of a camping mattress, as her shoulders slumped further. I sat down beside her. She continued to stare straight ahead as she whispered. “I can’t take this anymore. It’s too much like when we lost Gran. Or Dante. He’s all I have left.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “This is why I didn’t want him to become a firefighter. It’s too risky.”
I reached for her hand. “Jimmy’s strong, and he loves what he does.” I took a deep breath and tried to think like Jimmy. “Pretty soon he’ll be out of surgery and cracking jokes. Probably at your expense. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Fake wives can stay calm. Real sisters don’t have that luxury.”
Ouch. I reached up to rub my chest. If she thought I was calm, then I deserved an Oscar. Terror gripped me. Jimmy’s job was dangerous, but he was such a force of nature he seemed invincible. He’d been my hero, and I wanted his good deeds to make him safe. Injury proof.
Adrenaline from waiting kept me dangling over emotional spikes, razor-sharp, and ready to impale me if I breathed too deeply. Knowing I could lose him made it impossible to relax, impossible to focus on Andi’s words. They slid off me; she could hate me all she wanted. I could only focus on my fears for Jimmy. I could lose him. Not to time or disinterest, but from my world. He was too good a man for that to happen. Too unselfish. Too caring.
Lisa overheard what Andi said about me being a fake wife and rushed to defend me. “Don’t be a bitch because your brother’s in surgery. Melena’s hurting too. Don’t make it harder on her.”
Andi doubled down. “Sure. She’s worried she’s going to lose her meal ticket. Jimmy always was a sucker for the ones who needed saving. Pretty sure he switched shifts today forher– he wouldn’t have even been on that engine today if it weren’t for Melena.”
Her words stung. And I hated that they might be true. Lisa made a move to push out of her chair next to me, but I put out a hand to hold her back. We didn’t need to bethat familyin the waiting room. “No, Lisa. She’s entitled to her opinion.”
“Even though it’s wrong?”
I shrugged listlessly. “What does it matter? All that matters is Jimmy gets well. We’ve been here for hours. Why are they not telling us anything?”
I pushed out of my chair and stalked to the windows. The waiting room was on the fourth floor, and I could see the people and cars moving on the street below. I tried to imagine the dramas driving each person.That one was having an affair. That one was trying to get pregnant. That family was visiting a sick aunt.I went on and on, naming a secret shame or misery for each of the people I saw.
I shook myself. What was I doing? Jimmy would never sink into self-pity. I needed to channel his hope and optimism and remind myself of the good in the world. The good he saw around him. I started again. That one was in love. That one was donating a kidney. That one was helping a friend after surgery. That one was meeting a friend’s baby.Then I glanced around the waiting room.That one desperately loved her brother. That one was a good mentor and friend. That one was a good friend to me.
I crossed the room back to where Lisa, Mark, and Andi were sitting and mustered a smile. It may have been shaky around the edges, but it was a smile. I glanced up at the monitor, in time to see patient 123’s status change to ‘In recovery.’ I tilted my head back, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Thank you,” I murmured. Fine trembles shook me. I tilted my head down and smiled as a few stray drips dropped down my face. “He’s in recovery.”
“What?” Andi said, glancing up at the screen to check for herself.
Mark smiled, and it multiplied the creases in his weathered face. “About time. He’s a tough one. Don’t you worry.”
He’d clearly been worried, but I didn’t call him on it. Lisa stood and gave me a hug more like a straitjacket than a brief squeeze. “I hate to do this, but now that he’s out of the woods, I need to head home.” She looked between Andi and Mark. “One of you will make sure she gets home tonight? She’s only a couple of days out from her own surgery.”
Andi and Mark nodded, and Lisa took her leave. I watched the door anxiously, hoping a doctor would come talk to us soon. My butt was numb from all the sitting by the time a figure in scrubs and a loose surgical mask entered the room.
“Mrs. Torres?”
I nodded and stood. She glanced down at my ID bracelet. “Very good. Your husband is in recovery now. I’ll send someone to show you to his room as soon as he’s ready to be moved.”
“You’re going to keep him overnight?” I asked.
She nodded. “We need to monitor him tonight. We’ll reevaluate tomorrow. You can stay with him if you like.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Doctor. When I first heard about the accident, the extent of his injuries was unclear. Can you tell me more about his injuries?”
“Report was of a vehicle accident. He presented with a mild concussion, broken ribs, and a broken leg.”
“What did you need to operate on?”
“His left leg,” she answered. “He needed a pin and some hardware due to the nature of the fracture.”
“But he’ll be okay?”
She smiled. “He’s going to have a hell of a headache. We can walk through concussion protocols later, but he’s okay.”
I thanked the doctor. I was still antsy, but not so anxious after her update. Andi and Mark insisted on waiting to see Jimmy themselves, and we haunted the waiting room a while longer. Thirty minutes later a nurse arrived to show me to his room. “Mrs. Torres? I’ll take you to your husband.”
I’d been called ‘Mrs. Torres’ more in the last few hours than I had in the last few weeks. To the world I was Jimmy’s wife. I may always be a Nemitz on paper, but in my heart, I could be Mrs. Torres too. Not a fake wife, not a temporary wife, but his, to have and to hold. And I wanted to hold him. The nurse’s shoes squeaked ahead of us down the hall, and I did my best to keep up. The emotional stress was taking a physical toll on my still-healing body. Mark put a supportive hand under my elbow. “Steady there, Melena. A few more minutes for you to visit Jimmy, then I’m taking you home to rest.”
Andi joined the vigil, and the afternoon wore on. After my fifteenth visit to the volunteer desk, Lisa gestured to Andi. The other woman didn’t look good. Each hour seemed to drain more of her belief, like air draining out of a camping mattress, as her shoulders slumped further. I sat down beside her. She continued to stare straight ahead as she whispered. “I can’t take this anymore. It’s too much like when we lost Gran. Or Dante. He’s all I have left.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “This is why I didn’t want him to become a firefighter. It’s too risky.”
I reached for her hand. “Jimmy’s strong, and he loves what he does.” I took a deep breath and tried to think like Jimmy. “Pretty soon he’ll be out of surgery and cracking jokes. Probably at your expense. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Fake wives can stay calm. Real sisters don’t have that luxury.”
Ouch. I reached up to rub my chest. If she thought I was calm, then I deserved an Oscar. Terror gripped me. Jimmy’s job was dangerous, but he was such a force of nature he seemed invincible. He’d been my hero, and I wanted his good deeds to make him safe. Injury proof.
Adrenaline from waiting kept me dangling over emotional spikes, razor-sharp, and ready to impale me if I breathed too deeply. Knowing I could lose him made it impossible to relax, impossible to focus on Andi’s words. They slid off me; she could hate me all she wanted. I could only focus on my fears for Jimmy. I could lose him. Not to time or disinterest, but from my world. He was too good a man for that to happen. Too unselfish. Too caring.
Lisa overheard what Andi said about me being a fake wife and rushed to defend me. “Don’t be a bitch because your brother’s in surgery. Melena’s hurting too. Don’t make it harder on her.”
Andi doubled down. “Sure. She’s worried she’s going to lose her meal ticket. Jimmy always was a sucker for the ones who needed saving. Pretty sure he switched shifts today forher– he wouldn’t have even been on that engine today if it weren’t for Melena.”
Her words stung. And I hated that they might be true. Lisa made a move to push out of her chair next to me, but I put out a hand to hold her back. We didn’t need to bethat familyin the waiting room. “No, Lisa. She’s entitled to her opinion.”
“Even though it’s wrong?”
I shrugged listlessly. “What does it matter? All that matters is Jimmy gets well. We’ve been here for hours. Why are they not telling us anything?”
I pushed out of my chair and stalked to the windows. The waiting room was on the fourth floor, and I could see the people and cars moving on the street below. I tried to imagine the dramas driving each person.That one was having an affair. That one was trying to get pregnant. That family was visiting a sick aunt.I went on and on, naming a secret shame or misery for each of the people I saw.
I shook myself. What was I doing? Jimmy would never sink into self-pity. I needed to channel his hope and optimism and remind myself of the good in the world. The good he saw around him. I started again. That one was in love. That one was donating a kidney. That one was helping a friend after surgery. That one was meeting a friend’s baby.Then I glanced around the waiting room.That one desperately loved her brother. That one was a good mentor and friend. That one was a good friend to me.
I crossed the room back to where Lisa, Mark, and Andi were sitting and mustered a smile. It may have been shaky around the edges, but it was a smile. I glanced up at the monitor, in time to see patient 123’s status change to ‘In recovery.’ I tilted my head back, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Thank you,” I murmured. Fine trembles shook me. I tilted my head down and smiled as a few stray drips dropped down my face. “He’s in recovery.”
“What?” Andi said, glancing up at the screen to check for herself.
Mark smiled, and it multiplied the creases in his weathered face. “About time. He’s a tough one. Don’t you worry.”
He’d clearly been worried, but I didn’t call him on it. Lisa stood and gave me a hug more like a straitjacket than a brief squeeze. “I hate to do this, but now that he’s out of the woods, I need to head home.” She looked between Andi and Mark. “One of you will make sure she gets home tonight? She’s only a couple of days out from her own surgery.”
Andi and Mark nodded, and Lisa took her leave. I watched the door anxiously, hoping a doctor would come talk to us soon. My butt was numb from all the sitting by the time a figure in scrubs and a loose surgical mask entered the room.
“Mrs. Torres?”
I nodded and stood. She glanced down at my ID bracelet. “Very good. Your husband is in recovery now. I’ll send someone to show you to his room as soon as he’s ready to be moved.”
“You’re going to keep him overnight?” I asked.
She nodded. “We need to monitor him tonight. We’ll reevaluate tomorrow. You can stay with him if you like.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Doctor. When I first heard about the accident, the extent of his injuries was unclear. Can you tell me more about his injuries?”
“Report was of a vehicle accident. He presented with a mild concussion, broken ribs, and a broken leg.”
“What did you need to operate on?”
“His left leg,” she answered. “He needed a pin and some hardware due to the nature of the fracture.”
“But he’ll be okay?”
She smiled. “He’s going to have a hell of a headache. We can walk through concussion protocols later, but he’s okay.”
I thanked the doctor. I was still antsy, but not so anxious after her update. Andi and Mark insisted on waiting to see Jimmy themselves, and we haunted the waiting room a while longer. Thirty minutes later a nurse arrived to show me to his room. “Mrs. Torres? I’ll take you to your husband.”
I’d been called ‘Mrs. Torres’ more in the last few hours than I had in the last few weeks. To the world I was Jimmy’s wife. I may always be a Nemitz on paper, but in my heart, I could be Mrs. Torres too. Not a fake wife, not a temporary wife, but his, to have and to hold. And I wanted to hold him. The nurse’s shoes squeaked ahead of us down the hall, and I did my best to keep up. The emotional stress was taking a physical toll on my still-healing body. Mark put a supportive hand under my elbow. “Steady there, Melena. A few more minutes for you to visit Jimmy, then I’m taking you home to rest.”
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