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When Wilson reappeared the waiting room, Mary rushed over to his side, nearly pushing Billy off of her lap. George looked on as Mary stood in front of Wilson, pleading with her eyes for him to say of do something that would allude to him being all right for the moment. He did no such thing, but sat down in the chair next to George.
Mary sat down next to him and put her hand on top of his. He pulled his hand away from hers and looked up at her.
"Mare, please. Just…" He didn't know how to finish his sentence.
Mary wasn't stupid. "OK, OK. I'm sorry. I was just trying to-"
"I know. But I don't need you to- not yet anyways."
Mary suddenly felt out of place. She was waiting to find out about the condition of a man she had no ties to, without Wilson, and her husband didn't need her. What was she doing there? She sighed and leaned back in her chair, waiting for some sort of news to come their way. Really, it was none of her business, but she was still eager to know.
They were all starting to grow impatient and began to worry. George was the worst out of all of them. He knew, from a doctor's standpoint, that if you didn't here anything for a while and they kept telling you that things weren't good yet, it was not a good sign. This whole experience was a bad indication of things to come. As he sat there, though, he began to mentally prepare himself for his father's death. He could feel it coming and, judging by how things were going, he knew Wilson would need him to be there. Wilson obviously didn't want Mary right now.
A nurse came in though one of the doors at the front of the room and looked around for George; they had had a conversation earlier. It didn't take long for her to find him, but she seemed to be slightly drained from excess stress. Plus, it was three in the morning. George stood up and walked toward her, followed by Wilson and then Mary and Billy.
"Um, I'm sorry. I…the doctor will be out in a second for you," she told the family.
Sure enough, a professional looking man in a white lab coat stepped into the room. "Wests?" They nodded. "We tried to stabilize him, but we weren't successful. He had a stroke and despite our best efforts, we lost him. I'm sorry."
Wilson and George's faces both turned the same shade of gray. Wilson turned to Mary, still in an extreme state of shock, and looked into her eyes. Mary reached out to him, sad in her own right, and pulled him in closely.
He was stiff in her arms, not moving to fit her body at all. She cringed at the thought of being in his position, and of everything that this would entail. She was exhausted, and the next few days were definitely going to be long and draining.
Billy wrapped his young arms around Mary's waist and refused to let go. It caused her some slight discomfort but she didn't say anything. After all, he had to be in more pain than she was.
Mary reached out and grabbed George's hand, squeezing it tightly and looking up at his face. He was upset, understandably so, and Mary didn't like seeing everyone like this. This was not the way everything was supposed to be. She liked the way things were before; she was comfortable with all of it. Now everything was going to change. She couldn't see how it would not.
***
Home was worse than the hospital, but better in a sense. They were more relaxed, that's for sure. When Mary and Wilson finally arrived back at the apartment, both of them were exhausted. They walked into the bedroom and without changing their clothes got right into bed.
It was close to five o'clock in the morning, and Wilson was purposely not trying to sleep because he had to call into work soon to tell them he wasn't coming in. He lay there staring up at the ceiling for about a half an hour. Mary was so tired that she could barely see straight, but she couldn't sleep when Wilson was acting like that. He was so detached and was hurting so badly that it bothered her soul. Eventually, she rolled over and looked at him. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't respond right away.
"You see that spot on the ceiling?" he asked as he pointed upwards. Mary looked up and nodded. "It kind of looks like Abraham Lincoln. Don't you think?"
Mary smiled at him and tears welled up in his eyes. "Honey, come here." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tightly to her. She lay on her back and Wilson rolled onto his side. Mary pulled Wilson's head into her bosom and he stayed there. Mary rubbed his head as he leaned into her, taking full advantage of their new intimacy level.
She kissed the top of his head repeatedly, but he didn't move or show any emotion. All she wanted him to do was to cry, or yell, or something; he was silent and still. Mary closed her eyes against her will and slept for fifteen minutes. When she woke up, his head being on top of her startled her. She was completely out of it from sheer exhaustion, and she felt some sort of movement on her chest. She wasn't sure if she jumped when she saw Wilson, or if her heart was beating fast because of the astonishment. She quickly relieved, though, that she wasn't the one who was moving at all. Wilson was shaking.
She squeezed him and he stopped for a second, only to start trembling again. Mary bent her head down as far as it would go and kissed his cheek, and he finally sat up and moved off of her. Mary sat up, too, and kissed his lips sensually, but he pulled away.
"I love you," she whispered before he got up off the bed.
He cleared his throat and studied her face. "I-I…I love you, too," he choked out.
Wilson took the cordless phone off the nightstand and walked out of the room. Mary sighed heavily and fell back on the bed in sheer exhaustion. She didn't like it when he was like this; it shook the delicate balance that was there marriage. Mary covered her face with her hands and began to sob. The last twenty-four hours had been the most unbelievable, joyous, and upsetting than she had probably had in her entire life. Tomorrow was shaping up to be too glorious, either. But, then again, there is always the next day.
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A/N: Yes, I realize this was unbelievably short. So sue me. What I was aiming for was to put this chapter and the last chapter into one good chapter, but it didn't quite work out that way. I kind of rushed to put something up for you guys, since it was approaching the one-week mark and all. This chapter was no only short, though, but kind of bad. Oh well; I'll have better. :0)
A little heads up to you loyal readers out there: Wilson isn't going to quite recover from his father's death. It's going to shake him hard. And, attached to the rest of his family issues, it's going to be tough. Then the ending, man will he have some emotional turmoil. Interpret any way you wish; I'm not giving anything else away.
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Reviews can aide the grieving
process over a fictional character.
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