Wishes
three
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Ross didn't struggle. His chest didn't heave violently up and down as the last pull of breath pulled him out of the world of the living. Instead, his chest moved, as surprising as it was to everyone in the room, rhythmically…up, down, up, down...
Slowly…
Steadily…
Continuously…
The doctors furrowed their brows, and then glanced up at Rachel. They glanced at their wristwatches, and slowly, their puzzled frown turned into a big smile.
"Well," Dr. Krauss began, "I guess if it's not your time, it's not your time." He smiled, looking relieved. "I guess your husband, in a way, did want to get out life support, Mrs. Geller…because he didn't need it anymore," he joked. "He's one stubborn fighter," he smilingly commented.
Rachel couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe her eyes. Her hands immediately went to her mouth as she gasped for joy. Ross is still alive, and that very thought thrilled her soul. She couldn't remember what happened next. The next thing she knew she was jumping and screaming with joy, hugging Monica, unable to contain her excitement. Tears never left her eyes, but this time, they were tears of joy.
=====
"I knew Starly's gonna make my wish come true!" James announced animatedly, showing no signs of slowing down as he sat up in his racecar bed, already clad in his pajamas and holding Starly so close to him.
The boy's excitement was infectious that Monica and Chandler soon found themselves laughing as they tried to tuck the hyperactive boy to bed. Having no children of their own, the couple loved Ross and Rachel's children as if they were their own. Monica adored little James, while Chandler had recently developed fondness toward baby Emma. So all this time that Rachel needed help with her children, Monica and Chandler, not once, minded helping. Watching the kids for Rachel was not an obligation—never was one. Instead, the couple considered it a privilege. They were really more than happy to take on the roles of doting aunt and uncle whenever they could.
"I hate to spoil your excitement, but Chunky-Monkey, it's past midnight and you have got to go to sleep," Monica told the boy in a mock-stern tone. "Your Mommy would be calling in from the hospital any minute now and she's gonna be sooo mad if she finds out that you're still awake…"
"But you're not gonna tell, are you?" James pulled his best cute face, knowing what works well with his very doting aunt.
"Oh no!" Chandler shook a finger at the boy. "You're not gonna fool us with that look again."
James giggled. "Pleasy-please???" He tried again, this time putting forth his clasped hands before Monica and Chandler, begging. "I just want to remember all my wishes that come-d true because I'm afraid I'll forget them when I sleep …"
Monica smiled sweetly and rumpled the boy's dark hair. "Then maybe you should just write it down so you won't forget…" she suggested.
"You think?" The boy asked incredulously.
"Of course," Monica replied, bringing her feet up on the bed. "See, with me, when I want to remember something, I write myself notes so I'll remember them in the morning…"
"Yeah," Chandler wryly added, "And she uses different colors of post-its too. Pink for urgent, green for grocery stuff, yellow for appointments, and so on…"
Monica rolled her eyes at her husband's remark, but right away brought her attention back to her attentive nephew, who looked as if he was mentally taking note of everything she was saying—and perhaps, he was. "Anyway," she began again, "I was thinking, maybe you can try that Chunky-Monkey…"
"But I don't know how to spell yet. I only know how to spell my name." James wrinkled his forehead, half-convinced.
"Oh that's no problem!" Monica encouraged. She pulled the nightstand drawer open and was actually surprised to find a pen and a small notebook there. She took it out and turned it to a blank smooth page. "Here, I can help you start it up. I mean, pretty soon, you're going to be the master of spelling and you'll be able to do this on your own…" She smiled at the boy and positioned her pen. "Okay, maybe we can start with writing what your wish was. Then, we can add the dates of when you wished for it and when your wish came true. Then, maybe we can arrange everything in columns…"
"Is Aunt Monica having fun yet?" Chandler mockingly teased, watching the organized Monica come to the surface. He rolled his eyes half-mockingly. "Mon, he's just a kid!" he reminded his wife.
"Yeah? So what?" Monica countered defensively. "He likes it. Don't you James?"
James shrugged his shoulders. "I don't mind…"
"You Gellers are all the same," Chandler commented sardonically. He was going to say more, but the sound of Emma's whimpering from the next room interrupted him. "Uh-oh…" he mumbled worriedly. "I thought she was already asleep…I bet she's still looking for Daddy…"
"Do you want me to get that?" Monica stood up, her face to the wall where the sound was coming from.
"No, it's okay," Chandler replied, stopping his wife before she could make another move. "Uncle Chandler can handle it." Before Emma's cries could get louder, he disappeared into the hallway.
Monica smiled ruefully as she watched her husband scurried off to get Emma. As much as she convinced herself to accept the fact that she and Chandler just might never have children of their own, it still hurt like hell to know that they couldn't. They have yet to continue their discussion about the possibility of adoption, which was called to a halt when Ross's accident happened. Monica didn't really mind the interruption; in a way, she was glad it did happen. She needed the time to adjust to the delicate matter because turning to adoption as their last result to having children was just a painful reminder that her long time, most wished-for dream—to have a child of her own flesh and blood—might forever remain unrealized.
"Aunt Monica?" James snapped his aunt back to reality. "My wishes?"
"Oh right," Monica muttered, turning her attention back to the pad and pen in hand.
James touched his cheek, pensive for a moment. "I forgot when I started wishing for Daddy to get well so I guess we can just start with a new wish…but don't forget to write down Daddy got better today, okay?"
Monica nodded and smiled, writing down 'Daddy got better today.'
"Oh, oh, can you also write 'Thank you Starly'?" James requested. "Mommy said when someone does something nice to you, you should say thank you. So I want to thank Starly."
A soft chuckled escaped Monica's throat. "Okay, we'll write down 'Thank you Starlight,'" she spoke out loud as she wrote.
"No, it's Starly. Not Starlight," James firmly corrected.
"Yes, boss…" Monica smiled, writing down 'Starly' without even bothering to cross out the word 'Starlight.' "Anything else?"
"Umm…" James thought out loud. "For my next wish, I want to wish that Daddy will come home soon." Remembering his wishing star, he took Starly and mumbled his wish verses.
Monica smiled at the boy, and after she had finished writing what James had asked her to, she set the pad and the pen on top of the nightstand. "Well, now that we're done wishing, can we go to sleep now?"
James sighed gloomily, looking out the window as if he was about to cry. "Is Mommy not coming home yet? She tucks me in…"
Monica pushed the boy's head down to the pillow. "I know that," she stated as a matter-of-factly. "But what did Mommy say before we went home?"
"Be a good boy for Aunt Monica and Uncle Chandler," James repeated from memory. He sighed, defeated, shifting in his bed until he found a more comfortable position. "I wish Daddy will come home soon. I don't like things around here anymore…It's different…"
"You don't like Aunt Monica, Uncle Chandler, Aunt Phoebe, or Uncle Joey?" Monica asked half-jokingly.
"I like you…all of you…" The boy blushed. "I just like things better when my Mommy and Daddy are home all the time…" the boy wistfully replied.
"I know…" Monica smiled affectionately, pressing her cheek against the boy's cheek. "Don't worry Chunky-Monkey," she reassured the child. "Everything will be okay…" At least, she was hoping that things would turn for the better from this moment on.
=====
One week later, Rachel was nervously clinging to Monica's hand for dear life as she sat in the middle of the doctor's office, looking around the different scans against the light-lined walls of the small room. The scans carried about an eerie feel to the room, and surprisingly, made the office seem creepier than the already hair-raising O.R. waiting area that Rachel had sat in while the doctors performed another two-hour surgery on Ross earlier that day to repair some parts of his brain that had swollen or just needed some sort of damage-prevention. The surgery, she was fine with; but its results thereof were what had been racking her nerves.
"As you can see in this scan," the doctor continued to explain, "the impact of the accident caused some injuries to different parts of his brain—some that surgery wasn't able to fix. As of now, we have yet to determine whether the extent of these damages is permanent or temporary. His rather unforeseen recovery can indicate that they won't be permanent damages, that some of the swelling may actually shrink on their own…like the clot he had that, for a short time, blocked off that part of his brain that controlled his breathing…but then, we can never be so sure…"
"So if most of his injuries are brain-related, is my brother going to remember stuff?" Monica asked worriedly when she noticed that Rachel had become too dumbfounded to even speak.
"More likely than not," the doctor carefully replied. "Should he suffer some type of amnesia, it would only be for a short period of time. He might forget a few things here and there for a week or two, but that's about it. We're really more concerned about the effects his injury is going to cost his daily normal functions."
"Like?" Monica bit her lip, unknowingly squeezing Rachel's hand tighter with her own nervousness. The doctor's words were like a suspense/thriller movie, so she couldn't help but.
The doctor studied his file for a few seconds and then replied. "Like balance and equilibrium, reflex motor movements, maybe vision, language," he named a few.
"So basically, what you're saying is that he'll become paralyzed," Monica finally asked the inevitable.
The doctor was careful to make a reply, but he told them the sad truth. "Yes…perhaps…"
"Mentally?" Monica asked hesitantly.
"It's too early to tell…It might seem like that sometimes because he will have to relearn a lot of things that he used to do…grooming, eating on his own type things," the doctor answered. With a deep thoughtful sigh, he continued in hopes to offer some kind of enlightening in this depressing ordeal. "But like I said, we don't know if the damages are permanent or just temporary. In some cases, regardless of the damages, the patient just relearns the functioning he's lost. In some cases, a patient never fully recovers. Hopefully, with Ross, with the proper therapy and medication, he'd be back to normal in no time."
"How long is 'in no time'?" Monica pressed again.
"I'm sorry. I can't give a definite answer. It varies from person to person. But he's definitely going to need therapy…and with his situation, I recommend that you admit him to a full-scale nursing facility where services are available 24 hours a day. It's going to be tough, so you're going to need a lot of patience…" He gave the two women a sympathetic smile as he handed them a stack of brochures, and then stood up when his pager beeped. "I'll leave you two alone for few minutes so you can look up brochures about the possible therapies available…I'll come back again later if you have any more questions…"
"Thank you," Monica replied politely before the doctor left the room. Sighing, she turned to her friend. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked softly, rubbing Rachel's shoulder. "Don't worry…the doctor said that this is possibly just temporary," she told her, hoping to ignite the much-needed spark of hope again. "C'mon, Ross will get better in no time…He'll come out of this…"
For a seemingly long time, Rachel remained quiet. Her face was rigid; her eyes distant and devoid of tears. She just didn't know what to think anymore. She had thought that her hurdle was over, but apparently, it hasn't even begun. Her innermost thoughts were immediately filled with fear, doubt, and uncertainty. Ross might never return to the same Ross she knew, loved, and married. The thought was disconcerting, and somehow, it didn't feel any different from when she found out that he was not going to make it. She wanted to be positive about this, but optimistic hopes were aloof to her. Slowly, she turned to face Monica and released a long gloomy sigh. "Monica, what if he doesn't?"
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The sun peeped through the thick hospital curtains and illumined Ross's bony features as he lay motionless on the bed. Though wide-awake, his face was blank and his eyes were distant. He was staring at the ceiling, blinking occasionally, but that was the extent of things that he could actually do.
Gingerly and with a bittersweet smile, Rachel stroked Ross's cheek with the back of her hand. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell on Ross's face, making it seem as if he was crying with her. But he wasn't. Rachel would have been so glad if he was, but he wasn't. Ross was a practically like a living dummy. He was breathing, but he wasn't feeling. He was staring, but he wasn't processing a single thought. That was what the doctors told her.
Pulling her composure, Rachel forced herself to face the pressing matter at hand: what to do about Ross now. The second phase of Ross's recovery apparently wouldn't get any easier, so she was forced to make a decision that could very well impact her family's life tremendously. The doctors suggested that Ross be admitted full-time to a nursing facility while waiting for him to recover, but she wasn't sure if that would really for the best of all. She, for one, couldn't stand to be away from Ross any longer, but if she took him home, she wasn't sure what kind of consequences she and the children would have to deal with. Change, for a fact, would have to happen whether she wanted it or not.
"Rach, are you okay?" Phoebe finally spoke, interrupting Rachel's thoughts after moments of long silence. She had been in the room with Rachel, simply watching her; but when Rachel started tearing up, she just had to break her silence.
Rachel pulled herself together and nodded slowly. She didn't utter a single word for fear that her voice would give her away. She was far from okay, but it wasn't like Phoebe would be able to do anything if she told her friend that she wasn't. She was just as confused, just as lost as she was the weeks prior, and she feared that at this point, no one would be really able to help her sort through her growing problems.
"Okay…" Phoebe muttered unsurely. She could see in Rachel's eyes that she wasn't okay, but Rachel was not telling. She sighed and stood up, deciding it best to leave her friend alone for now. Rachel probably wanted to be alone with Ross anyway, she thought hesitantly. "Well, I'm just gonna go and…" She stopped and turned back on her heel. "You know what? You're not okay and I can't just leave you alone like this until you tell me what's bothering you…"
Rachel laughed timidly. She really couldn't hide anything from her girlfriends. Monica and Phoebe could see through her as if she were a transparent glass.
"So spill," Phoebe commanded firmly, but still in an endearing sort of way. "What are you thinking of? Can I help?"
"Well, I'm just thinking…" Rachel stroked the back of Ross's hand as she put her thoughts to words. "I…I don't know what to do anymore…"
"With Ross, you mean?" Phoebe asked, taking a seat across from Rachel.
Rachel nodded. "I don't want to just dump him in some nursing facility…"
"But?" Phoebe pressed. She could sense some hesitation in Rachel's voice so she had to ask.
"But everybody seems to think that that would be the best thing for me to do…" Rachel replied.
Phoebe sighed and reached across the bed for Rachel's hand. "Then, don't just go with the flow…If you feel like taking Ross home is the best way to go, then do that. I mean, it's not like he couldn't get therapy from home…" She shook her head. "It's not going to be easy, I'm sure, but if you feel like that's the best thing to do, do it…"
"But what if I'm wrong?" Rachel asked, her tone full of uncertainty.
"But what if you're right?" Phoebe countered. "What if Ross would recover faster with you by his side? I know that sounds mushy, but let's face the facts: you're Ross's life so being away from you is like being cut off from his life source."
Rachel looked down on the floor and smiled shyly. "Thanks…"
"It's true," Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. "This man is head over heels in love with you…I'm sure he's told you that several times…I mean, for crying out loud, you two have two great kids as proof of that love. Although, I've always wondered why you only have two kids. I've always thought that you two would have seven babies by now," she continued on more animatedly this time.
Rachel laughed softly. "Really? Seven, Pheebs? But we've only been married for five years…"
"I know," Phoebe replied with much certainty, her blue eyes glowing like that of a child. "But I was thinking, four of those are twins, so really if you count all the births there would have only been five total. Three boys, twin girls, and another twin girls…"
Rachel laughed at Phoebe's rather wild imagination. It was quite a picture that her friend painted, but it was…rather wild.
Phoebe smiled, please with herself. "See, now you're laughing."
"Thanks, Pheebs…" Rachel replied sincerely. At such a low point in her life, she could always count on Phoebe and her upbeat attitude to be able to bring a smile to her lips. "Thanks for being always there for me…"
"Nah…" Phoebe shrugged, smiling. "But seriously, whatever you want to do, do it. Me and the gang are all going to be here for you…"
=====
"Home sweet home," Chandler announced cheerfully when he pulled up the familiar driveway a couple of weeks later.
Rachel smiled and affectionately brushed her hand through Ross's hair as he lay on the backseat with his head on her lap. Tenderly, she stroked his jaw and planted a small kiss on his forehead while Chandler got Joey inside the house to help bring Ross down. "Honey, we're home," she told him softly, looking deeply into his eyes though the only response she could get was a blank stare. She sighed and forced herself to smile, to fight that bitterness that has been trying to creep at the back of her mind. This predicament was harder than she expected, and fear and doubt were starting to battle their way into her thoughts again though she didn't want them.
"Here, come here, big guy," Chandler smiled as he and Joey lifted Ross down to his wheelchair after a little help from Rachel as she pushed Ross into a sitting position.
It was a tedious task, but it got accomplished.
"There you go," Joey said, rubbing his hands together as he tried to catch his breath. "Yeah, Rach, you're going to need one of those lift things in your house," he remarked lightheartedly. He didn't mean anything by that remark, but unknowingly and unintentionally, it added up to the fear battling inside of Rachel.
The chill of January air that slapped Rachel's face when she stepped out of the vehicle made her shiver. As she went around the newly plowed driveway to get the rest of Ross's stuff out, she was unsure if it was really because of the cold or simply because of the dread that life would be different from now on. The last thing she needed right now was change. Unfortunately, change had unknowingly crept up to her over the last month and a half and clung to her like second skin. Before she even has time to breathe it all in, she was already choking up on it.
"You ready for this?" Monica touched Rachel's shoulder and gave her best friend a reassuring smile.
Rachel sighed and slowly began to nod. "Yeah, I think so…" She sighed again, shaking off her building fears and doubts about the new life ahead. Ready or not, there was no more turning back. She was already at the point where choices were either go or go farther. She smiled, more relaxed and more sincere this time, and glanced up at the sky above.
The sky was blue, a soothing, calming shade of blue. Thick puffs of white clouds floated all over the vast blueness of the sky, creating a wonderful tapestry across the horizon. But, the sun was not out; it was hiding behind the thick ball of cloud. With a sigh, Rachel lowered her gaze down to the earth and smiled as she slowly sauntered toward her husband. She planted a kiss on the top of his head and rested her chin there as she gently rubbed his shoulders. There were no stars out, but at least she still has Ross. With this thought in mind, she pushed Ross's wheelchair into the house, hoping that she could hold onto this thought for as long as it would take Ross to recover.
=====
Sunlight seeped through the shutters and warmed Rachel's face. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she winced as her eyes adjusted to the light. She rolled over to her side, turning her back on the bright window. Then, she smiled. It wasn't the same big smile that automatically made its way on her lips when she would wake up to Ross's singing in the shower, but it was a smile nonetheless. It was a smile that was longing to see some hope, a smile that was hoping to wake up to major improvements.
Sighing, she lifted her hand and touched Ross's face. He was already awake, but he wasn't moving. He just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling overhead. "Good morning…" she greeted softly before she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.
It wasn't particularly easy for her doing what she was doing, but she was really trying hard to make the most out of their situation. She just wanted to have their old life back, to bring back a sense of normalcy after weeks of emotional turmoil. Today, she was going to try yet again.
With a bright smile to start her day, she fluffed a couple of pillows, bunched them up, and slid them behind Ross so he could sit up. She sat before him, cross-legged, and cradled his limp hand in hers. "I'm so glad you're home…" she managed to say, welling up as she kissed his hand. "You know, at this time of the day, you would have already been in the shower, performing your rather obnoxious concert," she recalled fondly, mindlessly toying with Ross's wedding band that had already become rather loose around his finger.
Ross didn't respond or show any reaction in any other form, so Rachel patiently sighed and continued. "Anyway…every morning, usually after you shower, you take James out for a walk…" she trailed, carefully studying Ross's blank face.
The doctors told her that she should try to talk to Ross about his life prior to the accident and try to see if Ross would show some signs of recognition of what his life was like. They weren't sure if Ross has amnesia. It was hard to tell since Ross was not telling; Ross couldn't speak, gesture, or move for that matter. But regardless of the seemingly millions of miles of communication barrier between them, Rachel was determined to make him remember every single thing if that's what it would take to get their old life back.
Before she could speak another word, the bedroom door opened and James burst into the room, panting, clad in an inside-out sweater, snow pants, and a new piece of his ensemble: swimming goggles. "I'm ready!" he announced, hopping into bed to reveal his mismatched socks.
Rachel had to giggle at the boy's attire. "Jamesy, I'd say you look ready except for the swimming goggles. What's up with that?"
James grinned sheepishly. "I watched TV with Uncle Joey the yesterday after yesterday and there's this guy in a snowboard and he has on goggles and me and Uncle Joey thought he looks cool so Uncle Joey said that maybe I should try that look," he explained without pausing to catch his breath. Then, he looked at his father and wrinkled his nose. "Why isn't he ready yet?" Without even bothering to wait for a reply from his mother, hyperactive that he was, he began jumping on the bed. "Hurry Daddy! C'mon! Let's go! You're gonna be late for work if we don't leave now. C'mon!"
"Um…James…" Rachel cleared her throat, worriedly glancing at her son then at her motionless husband. Her son apparently hasn't picked up on the fact that Ross would not be able to do the things that they used to do anymore. She was worried, scared, of what James's reaction would be once he realized that his father was…different.
"Mommy, why's Daddy just sitting like that?" James asked innocently, sitting down on the bed when he finally noticed his father's unusual inactivity. "He's not saying anything either…" He grabbed his father's leg and lightly shook it. "Daddy?"
The moment that she heard Emma's cries in the next room, Rachel immediately grabbed hold of James' hand. "Sweetie, c'mon. Let's just go. Emma's crying in the next room," she told the boy before confusion totally enshroud his countenance.
"But why—"
Rachel didn't even waited for her son to finish his question. Without so much as a word, she carried him out of the room and into Emma's nursery. James wasn't able to do anything. He wanted to protest, to ask questions, but he was too befuddled to even come up with a complaint or a simple question. So, lost in confusion, the boy trailed after his mother though he could already sense that something was up, that something was not right. He held his peace for a little while longer, but the moment that his mother put Emma on the changing table for her nappy change, he opened his mouth again and finally let out his confusion.
"Mommy, what's wrong with Daddy?" James asked, his eyes questioning.
"Yucky, yucky diaper," Rachel pulled a wincing face at Emma, deliberately ignoring James's question.
"Mommy, I said what's wrong with Daddy?" James asked again, raising his volume a notch higher.
"Nothing," Rachel sighed, finally giving James a terse reply, tossing Emma's dirty diaper to the bin. "Did you sleep well, honey?" she cooed to the toddler, deliberately dropping the talk about Ross once and for all. She couldn't understand why she wanted to avoid the matter, especially since she knew James was bound to find out about it sooner or later, one way or another. It was almost as if that information was sacred, restricted only to adults who has enough understanding to comprehend the situation.
"But there is something wrong with him and you're not telling me," James whined, his face no longer hiding the hurt that he felt. "Are you lying to me? Daddy said it's wrong to lie…"
Rachel took a moment to catch her breath, closing her eyes as she touched her forehead against Emma's. Her son was right; she shouldn't lie to him. Hiding the truth from him might only hurt him more than it would do the good she was hoping it would do him. She was trying to protect James and Emma, to protect Ross, but she knew one way or another someone would get hurt from all this pretension, so she might as well tell her son now to prepare him for that day should it ever had to come. She sighed and sat on the rocker close by, taking Emma with her, while James unthinkingly followed.
"James," Rachel began softly. "Okay, honey, I'm going to tell you what's wrong with Daddy. I'm not sure if you're going to understand, but try…"
James broke into a slow, confident grin. "Try me…"
Rachel smiled and touched her boy's cheek. She sighed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking again. "Okay. Since Daddy's car got hit by that truck, you know already that Daddy had to stay in the hospital, right?"
"Yeah…" James nodded. "Because he's sick…"
"Right…" Rachel smiled weakly, realizing that she never really told James about the accident because she didn't want the boy to develop a phobia of riding in cars, that all the boy really knew was that his father got sick so he had to stay in the hospital. "Because Daddy got sick," she echoed sheepishly. "But you know, it turns out, Daddy is still not that all well right now…"
James grimaced. "That sucks…"
"I know…" Rachel smiled, glad that the boy was taking it well. In fact, James was taking it way better that she thought. "So with that said, I guess I should let you know that until Daddy gets a lot better, he won't be able to do those things that you and him used to do together…"
James looked down on the ground and his shoulders slumped. "That sucks…" he mumbled under his breath. Then, he sighed and slowly looked up at his mother and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that's okay…I'll just keep on wishing on Starly that Daddy will get better soon…"
Rachel let out a sigh of relief and smiled, playfully pinching the bridge of James's nose. "Yeah, do that," she told him. She didn't believe in making wishes upon stars, but she thought there was no reason why her son couldn't.
"I'll do it everyday!" James announced excitedly.
"Sure…" Rachel smiled at her son before standing up to put a more contented Emma on her playpen. "Can you watch Emma for Mommy while I go prepare breakfast for you guys?"
"Okay!" James replied happily, loving the big brother responsibility that his mother was giving him.
"Thanks, Jamesy-cuckoo." Rachel leaned down and kissed the boy's head. "Now give Mommy your swimming goggles because I don't want it around your neck when I leave you to play on your own." She held out her palm and waited until the boy took the goggles off and placed them gently in her hand. "And you, Little Miss Ems, can you be a good boy for Jem-Jem?" She smiled at the happy toddler as the girl grabbed onto to the sides of the playpen for support while she stood up.
"Kay, Ma," Emma replied, smiling sweetly.
Rachel kissed her daughter's nose. She knew it wouldn't be long before Emma starts talking in short sentences. She could already hear it in her replies. She just wished that the girl would give walking a try again. It has been long overdue, she thought.
"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes," Rachel told the kids. "You two behave."
Just as she was about to leave the room, she looked back at the two children and smiled. If there was one thing left that felt remotely close to normal in her life, that would be motherhood. With a sigh, she turned on her heel and decided to check on Ross again before she'd head down to the kitchen.
She re-entered their bedroom quietly and sighed by the doorstep, convincing herself that their current living situation was not as bad as it seems. "It'll get better, Rachel," she told herself as she strolled back to Ross's bedside, unconsciously stroking her wedding band again. She smiled at Ross weakly, pitifully, then picked up the pillow that had fallen on the floor. "See, this is not bad at all…" she convinced herself. The minute, however, that she pressed her hand on the bed just as she was fixing the blanket around Ross, all the determination, all hopes for a brighter better day, turned sour. "Oh sh*t!" she cussed irately under her breath as she straightened up, grabbing the nearest towel she could find to wipe her hand dry. The last thing she expected was for Ross to have this 'little accident' in bed. This was worse than Emma's nappy changes, she thought.
Gathering her composure together, she took three deep breaths. "Okay, honey, I'm sorry…I know this is not your fault," she said. She wasn't even sure if she was talking to Ross or she was just reminding herself that it wasn't Ross's fault that his diaper 'overflowed.' "Arrgh!" she groaned, running her other hand through her hair as she tried to adjust herself to the situation.
It was a lot harder than she thought…way too much harder.
"No leaving, no giving up…" Rachel whispered softly, reminding herself of the vow she and Ross had once made to each other. She couldn't give up on him now, she told herself repeatedly. She sighed and closed her eyes, taking herself back to the place where she and Ross used to believe that they could do anything, to the place where she was still in Ross's arms feeling completely safe and satisfied. For a moment, she believed again that there was nothing they couldn't take on together. For a moment, she felt happy, but when she opened her eyes again, it was then that she realized that she was still alone…
To be continued…