AN: That thing I said about lowering your expectations and being patient if you want to follow this one? Yeah. Sorry guys. If I'm being completely honest (and why not), I'm nervous about this one and my confidence was shaken after last chapter and with some other things going on writing wise, so I just wanted to go away for a bit and work it out, but that felt like I was abandoning those of you who are here to read and have been so supportive already. I'm not sure why I feel so much pressure over a volunteer writing gig, but I do, and it gets to me from time to time. So fuck it, here goes. ;)
"Next!"
She shuffled up to the cash register and placed her items on the counter. The cafeteria attendant, young, blonde, and blue-eyed like at least half of the people in this hospital seemed to be, gave her a perfunctory smile and began to ring her up.
"Ok, so we have an apple," the girl chirped, followed by the punching of keys on the register. "And a large coffee." Punch, punch, punch. "That'll be one-seventy-five!"
She dug into her wallet and pulled out two singles then handed them over.
"Out of two," she announced to herself.
More punching, then a bell sounding, then the crash of the cash drawer, and jingling of chang followed.
"And twenty-five cents is your change!"
Michonne took the quarter from her outstretched palm, then tossed it into the tip jar sitting to the side of the register. The blonde's eyes lit up with appreciation.
"Thank you. Have a blessed day!"
She nodded and picked up the white styrofoam cup and red apple and moved toward the exit while the next customer moved up in line. She made her way down the hall, the floors gleaming and smelling faintly of bleach after an early morning cleaning, then up the stairs to the second floor, then left, then right, and through the double doors and back to his room.
She sat down in the blue recliner that she had dragged to his bedside and began to lift the apple to her mouth before she stopped halfway, choosing to place it on his bedside table for later. She settled into the chair and took a sip of the lukewarm, acidic coffee and settled her eyes on Mike's face, or the little she could see of it.
His features were obscured by white tape and leads placed around his head, a tube down his throat with straps securing it around his jaw and light blue tubes leading to the machine that was breathing for him while he was sedated. She couldn't see his face, much less get close enough to lean in and stroke his cheek or kiss his forehead while she whispered reassurances in his ear, so she focused on his hand, something that was still recognizably his. She placed her hand atop his and gently stroked her thumb along over it for hours on end as she sat vigil by his side.
"Mrs. Kayne?"
She turned to see a woman with wavy, dirty blonde hair thrown into a loose ponytail and wireframe glasses standing in the entrance. She let got of Mike's hand and rose to attention upon seeing the light blue scrubs and white coat that topped them.
"Michonne," she corrected as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.
"I'm Dr. Cloyd. I apologize for not being able to make it in sooner. I was called to the OR for a case last night."
"I understand."
She watched the doctor walk over to get a closer look at the monitors by his bedside then perform a brief physical, taking out her stethoscope to listen to his heart.
"How is he doing today?" Dr. Cloyd asked while she looked up from her patient briefly.
She just shrugged. Nothing had changed for better or worse overnight. The doctor nodded and finished up her exam then sighed sympathetically as she pulled up a seat and motioned for her to do the same. She wondered if that was a technique they had learned in medical school to soften the blow when they were about to deliver bad news. Or maybe it wasn't for her benefit, perhaps it was just a display of their own weariness over the task.
"Your husband suffered a heart attack yesterday..."
She just nodded, it felt useless to bother correcting her on the status of their relationship at this point and she didn't want to delay the news any longer.
"He went into complete cardiac arrest and we were able to re-establish a rhythm, but the issue as it stands now is that he went for a long time without adequate blood and oxygen supply to his vital organs...namely his brain."
"So what does that mean?"
"It's hard to say right now. The first forty-eight hours are critical. Some people will pull through with no issues at all, others with some degree of brain damage that may have permanent effects..." The doctor hesitated slightly before continuing. "And others will have complete brain death."
"Which is death," she supposed based on the little she knew.
"Yes."
She shook her head and looked back at Mike. It had been this time yesterday that she was teasing him about his outfit and kissing him goodbye as he walked out the door for just another day at work.
"I don't understand..." she said quietly as she felt the tears began to sting her eyes again. "How? He's thirty-six."
"It's not common," the doctor allowed, "but it does happen, unfortunately. Did he have any medical problems?"
"No."
"A family history of early heart attacks or strokes?"
She shook her head.
"Any drug use?"
"No," she answered automatically before thinking better of it. "Not anymore. We used to smoke pot years ago, but..."
The doctor gave her a sympathetic smile and shook her head. Those apparently weren't the drugs in question.
"Has he been sick recently? Complained of any chest pain?"
"No, he was healthy." She looked back at him again, feeling just as helpless and dazed as she had when she first saw him. "We were happy..." she whispered breathlessly.
"Next!"
She shuffled up to the cash register and placed her items on the counter. The same young, blonde cafeteria attendant gave her the same perfunctory smile and began to ring her up.
"Ok, so we have a banana," she chirped, followed by the punching of keys on the register. "And a large coffee. That'll be one-seventy-five!"
She dug into her wallet and pulled out two singles then handed them over to the young woman.
"Out of two."
More punching, then a bell sounding, then the crash of the cash drawer, and jingling of chang followed.
"And twenty-five cents is your change!"
Michonne took the quarter from her outstretched palm, then tossed it into the tip jar sitting to the side of the register. The blonde's eyes lit up with appreciation, but no recognition at all. She was simply following a script.
"Thank you. Have a blessed day!"
She nodded and picked up the white styrofoam cup and banana and moved toward the exit while the next customer moved up in line. She made her way down the hall, then up the stairs to the second floor, then left, then right, and through the double doors and back to his room.
She placed the banana on the bedside table next to the uneaten apple from that morning then sat down in the blue recliner and took hold of Mike's hand as she sipped on her coffee.
She felt a hand graze her shoulder and looked up to see Nurse Maggie nodding a quiet greeting as she kept walking to attend to the other patient in the double room. She watched Maggie change out the IV bags then unsnap the light blue hospital gown at the shoulder to expose his chest which had a large white bandage wrapped around his midsection which must have been the reason that landed him in this place.
With only thin, clear plastic tube delivering oxygen through his nose, she could his entire face. His brown curly hair and thick beard looked unnaturally dark against his pale, ashen skin. The skin under his eyes was sallow and sunken with his cheeks and upper body looking gaunt, as well.
Despite his sickly appearance, he still looked young; too young to find himself here at least, just like Mike. Her eyes trailed down to the gold band that loosely encircled his left ring finger. For as long as she had been here, he had just laid there unconscious and alone.
She wondered if maybe his wife had suffered the same fate as him or worse which is why she hadn't been at his side. Perhaps he had children, too. She wondered if he would even want to wake up if he knew that there was nobody waiting on the other side for him.
"How long has he been here?"
Maggie looked up from changing his bandage, her lips pressed tightly together.
"I know you can't say," she assured her given patient confidentiality and all. She wasn't trying to pry, she was just searching for answers for herself.
"Sorry," Maggie said softly.
She waved her off and watched her go back to tending to the patient. She finished with his bandage and readjusted his gown and bedding then wiped with face with a damp washcloth and moisturized his dry lips with a thick application of petroleum jelly. She packed up her supplies then washed her hands and headed for the door, stopping in front of Mike's bed on her way out.
"You need anything, Michonne?"
"No," she shook her head and smiled sadly. "Thank you."
The nurse squeezed her shoulder again then walked out the down.
"Next."
She shuffled up to the cash register and placed her coffee on the counter, forgoing a piece of fruit since she hadn't eaten either yet. A young man with shaggy brown hair that draped low across his forehead and covered his eyes had taken over for the evening shift.
"One dollar," he said without looking up, his voice monotone.
She dug into her wallet and pulled out a single then handed it over to the young man. He took it in his hand, hit a few keys on the register to open the drawer, placed the dollar in, then shut it and just stood there. She furrowed her brow and picked up her coffee, pausing just a second to see if he would acknowledge her, but he just stood there looking at something, maybe his phone, that he had stashed behind the register. She didn't know why it irritated her so much, but it did.
"Have a blessed day," she said pointedly as she turned to leave.
"You too," he mumbled.
She rolled her eyes made her way down the hall, then up the stairs to the second floor, then left, then right, and through the double doors and back to Mike's room. She sat down in the recliner and felt her hand begin to shake as she lifted the cup of coffee to her lips. She brought her other hand up to steady it, but it didn't help so she lowered it to her lap and took a deep breath in and leaned back in the chair and shut her eyes as she exhaled. She told herself she needed just a few minutes. Only a few...
"Oh, I'm sorry, dear."
She opened her eyes to see a petite woman who probably came to just about shoulder height on herself standing there in front of Mike's bed. She was dressed smartly in tan slacks and a navy blue sweater set with a strand of white pearls around her neck, and her light brown hair fell into an angled bob around her face.
"My daughter-in-law didn't mention we had a new roommate," the woman explained as she placed a hand over her chest. "Deanna."
"Michonne," she answered.
The woman smiled then walked across the room up to the other patient's bedside. She watched her shrug her purse off of her shoulder and onto the chair then lean over his bed, placing a hand on each of his cheeks and whispering something for only him to hear before placing a kiss on his forehead.
Even if she hadn't indirectly confirmed as much, it was obvious that this woman was his mother based on the way she touched him. She recognized it from her own interactions with Andre when he was sick or sad or afraid... She watched the woman pull the chair closer to his bed and have a seat then pull a book out from her purse and begin to read quietly at his bedside, looking up every so often to check on him. It provided her with a strange sense of relief that this stranger had somebody watching over him. No one should be alone in their hour of need. It was as simple as that she supposed.
Her cell phone began to ring causing Deanna to look up from her book and see that she and her son were being watched from across the room. She gave a remorseful half-smile and Deanna smiled back warmly then returned her attention to her book. She pulled her phone out of her bag and saw that it was her mother calling.
"Hi Mom."
Hi Honey. Any news?
"No change," she said quietly. "How's Andre?"
He's fine. We just ate dinner. You father just left to take him to the park for a bit before it gets dark.
She managed a small smile, heartened by the fact that her son was safe and happy for the time being. "Good."
He's asking to come see you.
Her eyes went to Mike. Unconscious, unresponsive, and virtually unrecognizable. She wondered how a three year old could make any sense of it if she barely could herself.
Michonne?
"Not yet."
Well, how about if I come for a bit to sit with you and at least bring you a change of clothes?
She squeezed her eyes tightly to keep the tears from falling. This wasn't like the time she sat by Mike's bedside overnight in the ER when he had kidney stones or that other time he broke his ankle playing a pickup game of basketball in the park. She wanted it to be, and had tricked herself into thinking it was, but it wasn't. She had to be honest with herself.
"I'm OK, Mom," she insisted. "Just take care of my baby for me."
Michonne...
Her mother knew her too well, though. She simply just knew life too well at her age.
"I can't, Mom." She wiped that had managed to escape her tightly clenched eyes.
He's our family, too.
"I know. I just need some time."
She could hear her mother sigh on the other end. It was rife with frustration, disappointment...pain. For her daughter, for Mike, for Andre, and herself.
She was still wearing the black suit she had been wearing since the previous morning. She knew she needed to change, to eat, to let people in...to deal with what was really happening, but she just couldn't. Not yet.
"You can call Sasha or Rosita and ask one of them to bring a bag for me," she finally allowed.
Those two would understand her right now and wouldn't push back or get hurt feelings when she kept them at arm's length.
OK.
"Thank you, mom."
Of course. Whatever you need...I love you.
"I love you, too."
She ended the call and blindly dropped the phone into her lap then brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose to and dam the tears that had pooled the corners of her eyes. She just needed a minute. Breathe in, breathe out. And again, then again until she felt like she had averted a breakdown. When she opened her eyes, she saw Deanna watching her from across the room; legs crossed, and finger keeping her place in her book as it rested on her knee. She didn't try to avert her eyes or apologize for intruding on her private moment.
"My daughter-in-law didn't want my grandson to come to the hospital either..."
She just stared at her for a moment. She seemed like a nice woman, and she was sure that she was trying to be comforting or bond over their respective family drama, but she didn't ask for this. She couldn't have it.
"I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to talk," she answered quietly.
"I understand." Denna gave her a small smile and went back to her book.
She reached for Mike's hand, gently placing her palm over the top of his hand. She let it rest there for a moment before sliding her hand off of his and using the tips of her fingers to slip her hand under his. She just wanted him to hold her hand like he always had when she needed his comfort and strength, and she knew he would if he could.
She lowered her forehead onto their hands and began to weep softly.