Stuck Like Glue
The soft, rhythmic breathing emitting from the woman who lay in the bed was the only thing keeping Maxwell sane. She had bruises covering her arms and a few on her legs. Her face seemed to be fine. Her hair was tangled and oddly flat, certainly not the Fran Fine usual.
Her hand fit perfectly, resting in his for comfort. Not necessarily comfort for her, but for him. Letting him know that she would be all right, and that there was, indeed, hope.
It was early, perhaps an hour or two before the sun rose, yet no matter how late it became, he could not find rest. Instead, he found himself sitting in the most uncomfortable hospital chair, praying. Praying that she would just recover and be back to her old bubbly self. Praying to his late wife, Sarah, which he found to give him a sense of comfort.
During that time, silent promises were made. Promises to stop holding back, to not take things for granted, to move on. Even the promises he wished not to make. Promises to, no matter the outcome, stay strong. Promises to not neglect his children regardless.
"Fran, my darling, I know you may not remember this, nor may you hear it. I have been thinking. Realizing really. Realizing all that you have done for us throughout the four short years you have been here. You have made me a stronger, happier person by just being you.
"Please, Fran, please don't leave me. You just can't! I can't handle two careless, drunken drivers taking the lives of both of my loves." Max wiped a stray tear. He finally admitted he loved her, and she wasn't even awake to hear it. "You could never possibly have known how much you mean to me, partially because I am British and I am not very good at expressing myself." He sighed. He needed to just say it. Say what he was truly feeling.
"I love you. I guess I always had. I might have taken back saying it, but the truth is I could never take back meaning it."
He detected a slight shift in her breathing. A soft hand enclosed his. He rose out of the chair and hovered over her, trying to determine whether or not she was awake or dreaming. Her brown eyes fluttered open.
"Do you mean it?" She whispered, little tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He placed his finger above her cheekbone and wiped away one that had begun to fall. He smiled at her, realizing that he had just admitted his deepest feelings to her and she had actually heard him. He didn't know what to feel. Scared? Maybe a little, but, to his surprise, a sense of relief washed over him.
"More than anything."
"No regrets?" He grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly.
"My darling, the only regret I have is waiting this long to tell you." He saw her face change from unsure to complete and utter happiness.
"Good, me too." Max wanted to enjoy the moment, just him and his girl, but something was nagging at him. Something he just had to ask her.
"Darling I have something to ask you?"
"Hmm?" Max gently caressed her face and she opened her eyes.
"Why did you stick with me after all that I put you through?" Fran sighed and thought for a minute, thinking up a way to explain that would be easiest for him to understand. After a moment, she peered into his eyes and began.
"You know, I always loved you. Even from the beginning." Max narrowed his brow, not quite understanding where this was going, but listened anyways. "Sure you put me through hell sometime, but I couldn't bring myself to ever leave you. Now don't get me wrong, I considered it. Leading someone on and then going cold gets old real quick.
"But it never seemed to matter. I just kept coming back, because I knew, deep down, that you were right for me. You were the one, no matter what anyone else said or did, that was my mindset." She paused and gave a little sigh, followed by a laugh. "But you know what really made me stay?"
Max had been listening this whole time, not saying a word, taking it all in. He still couldn't believe she still wanted him, after hearing all this from her point of view. "What's that, darling?"
"The little things. Your laugh and your smile. The way your nose crinkles up in frustration or whenever you are concentrating really hard on something. And the way you love. Even though you may seem like a cold and inconsiderate British person…" He gave her an accusing look. "At times! But when you do love, you show it in the most adorable way. The looks you give me sometimes are what gave it away, ya know."
"Gave what away?"
"That you love me. Even though you took it back, I knew you still meant it and I knew that no matter how much you tried to fight it, you couldn't help it." She threw him a wink. "That's why I hung around, just waiting for you to realize that we belonged together." He took her face in his hands and gazed into her now teary eyes.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For never giving up on us." She smiled. He had finally spoken honestly from the heart.
"I don't think I could change the way I feel even if I want to." She held out her arms to him and carefully scooted over, making room for him. He willingly slipped his shoes off and accepted the invitation. He climbed into the space next to her and into her arms.
It all felt so right. Neither of them wanted to let this moment go. After a while, Fran switched positions and turned his head towards her.
"You know what else?"
"What?"
"That damn accent of yours just has me…" He laughed.
"Has you what?" She thought for a moment and then answered.
"Stuck like glue." He gave her a kiss on the lips and laid his head on hers. They lay there until the sun rose, in each other's arms, a match made in heaven. Probably literarily, thanks to Sarah.
When the doctors came to check on Fran in the morning, they gave her O.K. to go home. No serious injuries were inflicted. The whole limo ride home they lay curled up in one another's arms, cherishing the moment. Yes, they truly were stuck like glue.