Date: Sunday, October 27th, 2013
Time: 11:19am
Location: Diego's Apartment, Los Tokyo
That first week back at work was tough. There was no getting around it. Everyone was very supportive, with Mr. Grossberg even making a long speech at our morning meeting about how devastated they were at Diego's poisoning.
He had everyone sign a condolences card and gave it to me at the end of the meeting. Most people had written trite and repetitive notes of sympathy and sorrow, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless, even if I didn't like being put on the spot in my fragile state.
All week, people approached me, asking for details about what happened, the state of his condition, and his overall prognosis. Over and over again, I had to explain the same thing to each person who asked, re-living the grief of the previous week each time; picking at the scab constantly and reopening the wound. It took every ounce of resolve that I had to not get emotional every time I explained the situation, but I managed it somehow, my eyes getting watery but never crying.
When it got to be too much, I had his office key and could go hide out in there, but I tried to mostly stick to the commons and the doc room as much as I could. Being in his office was just more painful somehow, thinking about all our times in there: our first meeting, the late nights investigating Dahlia's case, goofing off in there during the workday, and the pregnancy scare.
The next week was somehow even harder than the first week. While I was still broken, disassociating from everyone and everything, thinking about the situation on a constant loop in my head all day, every day, it was business as usual for everyone else. I guess that everyone only had the capacity to pretend to care for a week and then life moved on.
To be fair to them, I didn't like the inquiry and attention, but it hurt to know he could just be forgotten so quickly. Reina would still talk to me about it sometimes, but even she ran out of things to say after it became clear that he'd be in a state of limbo for a while.
When a month had passed, and he was still comatose, things got more contentious at work than I had expected. He had one of the prized corner offices on the second floor. Now that it was unlikely that he'd be back to work soon, everyone waiting for an office in the commons or looking for an office upgrade was speculating on what they'd do with his space.
When a month and a half had passed, Mr. Grossberg put an end to the speculation by announcing at the meeting that week that I would take the office. I begged him not to give it to me. I still hadn't returned to criminal trials, with this incident making me even more hesitant at the idea of doing them. I had been nearly ready to start again before Diego's poisoning.
Mr. Grossberg put his foot down though. He was irritated at all the infighting and gossiping about it. Since I was the only one in need of an office not actively gunning for it, this was his solution.
When I realized that there was no way to get out of this arrangement, I moved all my stuff into Diego's office from the commons. Sitting at his desk right after the move, with the door closed and blinds drawn, I cried, feeling horrible about taking over his space. While I could tell that no one else at work believed it, I really thought he'd wake up some day and need it back.
I already felt like a pariah at work for not serving on criminal trials and for being aloof and distracted since his poisoning. That feeling only became worse when I was awarded a prized office in the building without earning it. I knew how people grumbled and whispered about me for undeservedly jumping the queue.
Even Reina, as compassionate as she could be, admitted to me how frustrated she was at the situation. She was nearing two years at the office, but she was still stuck in the commons with the interns and the new hire who replaced Diego. I got an office just shy of my one-year anniversary at the firm.
When she told me that, I offered her use of the office. After some initial reluctance, feeling guilty for being so candid about her disappointment, she agreed to share the space with me.
I gave her the desk and sat on the couch, where I used to sit when me and Diego worked on cases together. Shortly after, I all but moved out, keeping my stuff in there but camping out in the doc room most of the time like I used to.
This arrangement with Reina, somehow, was just as unfavorable as me being there alone, people now being upset that I was the arbiter of that office when it wasn't my right. I just tried my best to ignore them.
Back at the hospital, the new one, Maria successfully getting Diego transferred to the Shinjuku Heights Teaching Hospital two weeks after she requested the move, not much changed day-to-day, week-to-week. His doctor told us that he was now completely blind from the poisoning but, since his eyes were always closed, we could pretend that wasn't the case.
She said that a research team at Ivy University was working on some advanced medical technology that could restore sight in the blind, but it was still going through clinical trials. This gave us a little hope that he'd see again someday.
Once moved, his care plan had simplified when compared to his time in the ICU but was still quite rigorous. He required tube feeding, vital monitoring, a catheter, sponge baths, regular oral care, and frequent turning to avoid bed sores.
I was eternally grateful to the medical team for providing him with such great care, but I kept thinking about how mortified he would be if he was conscious. He wouldn't want me to see him like this, but there was absolutely no way I wasn't going to visit him.
Once he was moved, I saw him twice a week. I would take the two buses needed to reach the hospital on Wednesday evenings and would stay until the last buses could take me home. Then, every Saturday, Maria would pick me up, either at 9am on days she didn't work or at 4pm on days she did. We'd sit with him, helping the nurses with his care sometimes, and talking and joking to him even though we knew he couldn't hear us and wouldn't answer.
Maria and I would still play cards together and would get bad food from the hospital cafeteria and eat it in there. Usually a sad egg salad sandwich, under salted soup, or the flavorless hot meal special of the day. The one thing we refused to buy from the cafeteria and bring into his room though was coffee, knowing how much he missed it.
At one point, we had even asked if we could put coffee in his tube feed instead of his water flushes and the nurse looked at us like we were crazy, not sure if we were joking. We were only joking if it was stupid to ask; if she could do it, we were being completely serious.
While Maria had warmed to me a lot since Diego entered the hospital, I still had to be careful with our conversations. I think knowing I was there when things got bad made her more forgiving, but some topics still didn't go over well with her.
I had tried talking to her about his poisoning to see how she really felt about it. I was still angry months later that he didn't get justice, but she didn't engage much when I asked her and never got upset like I did. She would brush me off, simply saying that "there was no sense dwelling on it."
She said more or less the same thing when I talked about the day of his poisoning and how I thought it could have been stopped if I was there with him. I don't know if she was being kind, not wanting me to agonize over the what ifs, if she was simply resigned to the reality of it, or if she didn't want to admit that he could have acted differently.
Even before I read the last text messages between him and Dahlia, I knew why he didn't bring me to meet with her. He could be very traditional and was always protective of me. I mostly liked that though.
He was always doing little gestures for me, whether that be walking on the outside of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket when I got cold at the movie theatre, speaking up for me when colleagues tried to steal my ideas, driving me home even when it wasn't convenient for him, reminding me to eat when I was stressed, and plying me with chocolate, ibuprofen, and hot water bottles on my period.
It could sometimes irritate me too though. I often had to fight with him to let me pay for anything. I appreciated the gesture, but I liked having money for the first time in my life and it felt like a huge accomplishment to buy things with the income I had earned.
He said that he made more than me, so he was just trying to be fair, but that comment somehow made me feel worse. Like his money had value, but I only earned worthless Monopoly money.
Then there was his monitoring of my alcohol consumption on the handful of occasions where we drank. He said that he just didn't want me to get sick, but I told him that I would be okay. Other than our first date, where I stupidly drank on an empty stomach, I was able to determine my alcohol tolerance on my own. Having him check in with me constantly just made me feel like I was an alcoholic or something.
Then there was his poisoning, where that chivalry of his actually made me angry. I just felt in my bones that, if he had told me about it, if I had come with him, this never would have happened. He always told me how we made such a great team; what happened to that?
When we investigated crime scenes for his cases, he was better at the interpersonal side, being able to confidently speak with witnesses and police officers to get relevant information. I was always better with observations and details though, noticing small clues that he had overlooked. If I was there, I would have caught Dahlia poisoning his coffee. I just knew it.
I really didn't have the heart to be angry with him for long though. He had already suffered so much for his mistake; he didn't need more punishment. If he finally woke up and made some stupid joke to me about how I looked better now that he was blind, I would be so grateful that all would be forgiven. I wouldn't lecture him; I'd just hug him again.
As if his suffering physically wasn't bad enough, today Maria and I had to finish packing up his apartment. All his stuff had to be out by the last day of October, but we didn't have time to do it that day and didn't want to leave everything to the last minute. Diego had actually signed on for another year's lease back in June, but the property company had allowed us to break the agreement given the circumstances.
Cynically, I don't think they were just doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. Despite how exorbitant his rent was and how the apartment was not excessively big, only a 700 square foot one-bedroom, brand new luxury apartments in his area of the city with building amenities like a rooftop patio, underground parking, and a gym typically went for more than what he paid.
He had signed on for a year at a discounted rate before the building was finished, paying a large portion of rent upfront, and because of rent control, they could only raise his rent by 5% this year. Once he was out, they would no doubt hike the price for the next tenant.
His disability insurance at work had covered the rent for two months but, once they realized his coma could last months or years, they were somehow able to weasel out of it. That money was for sudden loss of income due to injury, accident, or sudden ailment, but they determined that his place would not need to be covered since he had a place to live for as long as he was in a coma.
Maria and I couldn't pay for it ourselves, especially with a lease changeover and rent hike, and we didn't want to drain his savings. So, we had made the hard decision to move his stuff out.
While the loss of this place would be biggest for him, I knew how much he worked and saved for it, I was going to miss it too. His place had basically been my home for six months. I could have stayed there the past two months too, and I tried to. It just felt so empty and forlorn without him there that I started slowly moving all my stuff back to my place.
I was supposed to tell my landlord that I wouldn't be renewing my lease, but I changed my plans when this happened. Luckily, since my place was the opposite of in-demand, I was able to negotiate month-to-month instead of another one-year lease.
Going back there after getting used to his place, I realized that I needed to find something better. Saving money was great, but paying a bit more for a nicer place was worth it. I didn't have the energy to look for apartments right now though.
Even though Maria and I agreed to meet at 10am, I got to the apartment at 8am so I could say goodbye to the place by myself. I knew once she arrived, there would be no time to sit and think.
The place had already been emptied somewhat. The stools for the kitchen island, the nightstands, the coffee table, the art on the walls, the stereo system, and the couch had all been sold. Maria took his tv, putting her much smaller one away and using his instead, even though she wasn't much for television.
Since the bed at my place was horrible, we got his moved over to my place a couple weeks ago instead of selling it too. Maria didn't have the space to store it or the other stuff we sold. His bed was a king and barely fit where my double mattress used to be, but the movers managed to squeeze it into place. Once it was there, I had taken to sleeping on his side of the bed instead of mine.
Things we couldn't sell like his dishware and knick knacks would be donated. His plants would go to Maria's and sit in her kitchen or would be planted outside. Except for Charley. I didn't have much sunlight in my place nor a window ledge for the smaller plants, but he seemed tall and hardy enough to survive in my apartment.
The rest of his stuff: his clothes, books, music collection, toiletries, and small appliances, we thought we could pack all of it up today and fit it in her spare room closet or garage.
The two hours went surprisingly fast waiting for Maria to arrive, but that's life for me nowadays. Time is a blur when you get lost in your own head as much as I do now. As soon as she arrived, she took over delegating tasks. She would handle the kitchen and living room and I would take on the bathroom and bedroom. We would both tackle the hallway closets.
While she wrapped dishes in kraft paper and carefully placed them in boxes destined for the charity store, I started on the bathroom. I took everything out first and set the stuff in the hallway so I could deep clean the entire room. Once I was done, I began sorting through his stuff to see what would be pitched and what was worth saving.
I took his soap, toothpaste, and floss, figuring I could use them, and they weren't worth boxing up. I took his colognes too. I didn't know what I would do with them, but they smelled like him. Half-used deodorants, mouthwash, and old toothbrushes got discarded.
While going through the rest of his toiletries, I noticed a small glass bottle that I didn't remember seeing before. It must have been tucked away somewhere until I pulled it out for my cleaning. Anti-aging cream. I laughed when I read the label. No wonder he hid this cream. I would have teased him mercilessly for it if I had found it earlier.
Since he called me kitten and would joke about me being younger than him, especially when I hadn't heard about an old movie, show, or historical figure before, I had taken to throwing it back at him, jokingly calling him old man. Sometimes, if I really wanted to piss him off, I'd call him dad, but only if he was being a little condescending.
Luckily for us, he kept that to a minimum, usually only lecturing me out of worry, like if I walked by myself late at night and he wasn't available to drive me or if I forgot to lock the front door when I was at his place alone.
When I was done, I moved to his bedroom. There wasn't too much to do in there now that all the furniture was gone. I swept and cleaned the floors and then made my way to his closet to pack up his clothes.
He was always so neat and organized that this task wasn't difficult either. His pants were already folded neatly on the shelves so I could just place them into a box, and folding his shirts and separating them from the hangers took little effort.
I took two of his dress shirts, both shades of red, and set them aside to take home with me. I figured I could use them as sleep shirts now.
I piled the contents of his sock and underwear drawers into a box too but, clearing them out, I found another surprise. Something much more shocking than the wrinkle cream. Tucked in the back of one of the drawers was a red velvet box and a receipt.
I knew what this was, he wouldn't have hidden it if it was something else, but I was still shocked when I opened it. Inside was an engagement ring, a classic one, with a large oval diamond on a white gold band. I had never been the type of girl to picture what her engagement ring would be like, I had never even thought about it before, but this one was perfect.
I looked at the receipt and read the price: $5,454.86. It was more expensive than anything I had ever purchased, but not as much as I was expecting for a ring with a stone that large.
Out of curiosity, I had browsed a jewelry store at the mall years ago, back when I was still in my undergrad, and I remembered that some of the rings were tens of thousands of dollars. That said, I really didn't understand all the nuances of ring pricing.
When I looked at the ring description on the receipt, it made more sense, listing it as "lb grwn". I smiled when I read this. I had seen a documentary on conflict diamonds some time before we had dated, but I really don't think we had talked about it. He must have just known that I'd be the type to get on a soap box about it and, well, I would have.
After watching that movie, I didn't understand how something made ethically in a lab was worth less than something mined under war-torn or slavery conditions. I don't know if the documentary was true, but it said that many diamonds listed as conflict-free might not actually be due to loopholes.
Maybe I was reading too much into his selection though. Maybe he didn't know any of this and just thought it looked nice. I was never supposed to see the receipt.
When I looked again at the slip, I saw the purchase date listed as June 4th, 2013. This reveal was almost as surprising as the ring itself. Not even four months in and he bought a ring. I knew he wasn't lying that day at the beach, when Maya asked us when we'd get married. I knew he wouldn't just joke about that. However, I didn't know he was this serious.
It made me feel guilty. He was all in on us from the beginning, but I needed more time to be sure. Now that he was comatose, and I didn't know if we'd ever get to speak again, it made me wish that I had acted differently. Now that he wasn't here, and I could feel his absence every day and replayed all our greatest hits in my mind, I realized that I had really loved him all along.
I opened the ring box again and looked at the ring, trying to decide if I should try it on or not. It felt wrong. He probably had something planned, but the surprise was already ruined. Not only had I seen the ring, but I knew how much it was, where it was sourced, and when he bought it.
While I was pondering this decision, I heard Maria cry out from the kitchen. "Mia, I think I'll need your help to reach something!"
I heard her voice getting closer and slammed the box shut. I didn't have time to hide it, so I just stood in front of the closet shelves and held it behind my back. "Sure thing, Maria," I said unevenly.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I replied, laughing nervously.
"You're being weird. Do you have something behind your back?"
I closed my eyes and sighed before nodding. I showed her the ring box. "I just found this in his sock drawer."
She grabbed the box from my hand and opened it. Her eyes widened. "Oh my." She paused. "I didn't know you were that serious."
"I had no idea," I said plainly. "I don't know what to do. It's beautiful, and I'd be honored to wear it, but he never got the chance to ask."
"Right." She paused and her eyes started welling with tears. "Well, I don't know if you should wear it, but you have to take it. He wanted you to have it." She closed the box and handed it back to me.
"Maria..." I said softly, my voice trailing. Thinking about it, seeing her reaction, I don't know how I wasn't crying too. It doesn't take much nowadays. I think the shock had stopped me.
She wiped her tears with her thumb and waved me off. "I'll be okay. Thinking about the wedding. Grandkids. It's tough."
"Someday," I said, smiling reassuringly.
"Hm," she said dismissively. Was I the only one who thought he'd wake up?
"I can help you reach what I can," I said. She nodded in agreement.
There were no more surprises as we cleaned and packed up the rest of the apartment. We had already sold the barstools, so I had to climb on the counter to reach the last few items on the top shelves. The extra half foot in height I had over Maria was not enough.
Otherwise, nothing else eventful happened. We loaded the boxes on a couple carts in the hallway and left our keys, our spares and his originals, on the kitchen island for the landlord to grab later.
The only thing I had left to do was take pictures. The lawyer in me didn't trust his landlord to give him back his damage deposit. It was one month's rent and there is no way they could justify keeping it for cleaning costs, but they would try. This place is pristine and now I have the proof.
Maria had already taken one of the carts down while I took the photos, so I had one more moment to say goodbye, taking a good look at each room before I left it. Then, slowly, I shut the door and wheeled the other cart down to meet her.
We loaded up her car first and then we fit the few remaining boxes into his car. When we were done and had put the carts away, she handed me his car keys. I inhaled deeply as I grabbed them.
I really wasn't supposed to be driving by myself. I only got my learner's five months ago, at Diego's insistence, but hadn't obtained my full license yet. I was eligible to take the test next month, but it wasn't at the top of my priority list right now and I didn't know if I would. Maria assured me that it was unlikely that I'd be pulled over on the drive to her house, so I begrudgingly agreed.
There were a lot of eye rolls and "okay dads" the day he convinced me to take the written test. I really didn't think I needed a driver's license living downtown, but he said it would be good for me to be able to drive his car, just in case. I did well on the written exam, that wasn't hard at all, but the driving part scared me.
I was really excited to get my license when I was 16, but I had no one to take me driving. Mom and dad were gone, and Aunt Morgan wasn't going to volunteer. Now that I was 24 going on 25, eight years behind in experience compared to people my age, the idea became more nerve-wracking than exciting.
"You know how to get there?" Maria asked.
I nodded. "I'm pretty sure. I'll try to follow you as much as I can."
She walked over to her driver's side door. "I'll see you there," she called out. Then she got into her car and started it.
I got into his car, adjusting the seat and mirrors first and taking a deep breath before I turned the car on and followed her out of the parking garage.
The drive was okay at first. I followed her through the city, and she would signal well in advance, so I had time to change lanes. Then we got separated.
The streetlight turned yellow as she went through the intersection, and I didn't have time to make it before it turned red. The streets were too busy for her to pull off and wait for me. I was on my own the rest of the way.
The city driving wasn't horrible. Even on Sundays, traffic was bad enough that I rarely went over 25mph. When I had to hop on the highway, I took another deep breath. The highway was what made me most nervous about driving. I successfully merged, luckily having a good gap between me and the closest car but driving 70mph next to transport trucks and big SUVs made me uneasy.
I thought back to one of the only times I had driven on the highway, a month or so before Diego was poisoned. We were going to Maria's, and he told me the drive there would be good practice.
He was calm, as usual, despite how bad I was at driving. He made some dark joke about being okay with dying if it was next to me and, frantically, I told him not to say something like that. He clarified that he was just quoting a morbid song lyric, and he would take over if he was really worried.
Even with his instruction, I was having trouble coordinating everything I needed to do. Shortly into the drive on the highway, a police car had turned its sirens on, and I had to pull over. Diego laughed and told me that he'd visit me in jail, and I scoffed and jokingly told him to shut up.
I had never gotten a ticket before, but I had seen movies and tv shows where people tried to get out of them. When I saw that it was a male officer, I got prepared to put on a show.
"Hi officer, what seems to be the problem?" I trilled flirtingly, batting my eyes.
"Jesus Christ," Diego said, exhaling in laughter from the passenger seat.
"You weren't consistently signaling," the cop replied gently. "And your speed is very inconsistent."
"Oh, I'm so, so sorry sir," I replied with a lavish amount of remorse. "I only have my learner's."
The cop nodded. "Well..." he said, his voice trailing. "Please be mindful of those things going forward, as you're learning. I'll just let you off with a warning."
"I will sir, thank you so much," I said with excessive graciousness.
"Enjoy the rest of your day, miss," the cop replied before walking away. I rolled up the window.
"Well, that was quite the performance," Diego said sarcastically. "If you're going to flirt your way out of ticket, I think that tactic works better when your boyfriend isn't in the passenger seat."
"He didn't know we were together," I said teasingly.
He rolled his eyes. "Right, silly me."
"I'm just joking. Saved us a ticket though, right?"
"You didn't get a ticket because you don't have your license yet."
"Maybe." I paused. "But if that was really the case, I think he would have actually checked that I had my learner's. He forgot to ask." He just nodded. "Are you jealous or something?"
He sighed. "Call me crazy, but I want the kind of relationship where we don't flirt with other people, even to get out of tickets."
"I wasn't actually flirting with him. He knew that. And I just saved us $200 or something."
"I'd rather pay the $200."
I was taken aback. "You're really serious about this."
"I am. But if you really don't care, if a female cop pulls us over, I can do the same thing."
I laughed. "Go right ahead. Women aren't as easily swayed, so I don't think it'd be effective."
"My relationship history disagrees with you," he replied drily.
That had shut me up. I hated thinking about that, being one of 22, more when you count the women whom he had dated but never slept with. It made what we have seem less special.
Driving the highway today, I guess I would have to just pay the ticket if I was pulled over. I had been really determined to do the trip successfully though, and when I exited the highway and into the suburban area where Maria lived, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Just a few more streets and I've made it.
I pulled into Maria's driveway and saw that she already had the garage door open for me and parked her car closer to the lawn to make room. She said that we'd keep his car in there until he needed it again. We were putting a lot of faith in that new vision technology. She was waiting for me when I arrived, standing on the steps and by the door that led into her house from the garage.
When I drove in, I was reminded of my other main driving issue: parking. She already had a bunch of stuff in there, not including Diego's stuff, and I misjudged the space I had, side swiping some of the boxes and her bicycle by mistake.
"Crap," I said under my breath. I turned the car off and went to inspect the damage. "I'm really sorry." I looked at her bike first. "Your bike seems fine."
"It's okay. How is the car?"
The boxes didn't seem to have an effect, but the handlebar of her bike had left a small dent and scratched some of the paint. "Ummmmmm."
She laughed. "That doesn't sound good." She walked over to look at it. "Well, we know he loves you now. He'll forgive you."
"Maybe," I said remorsefully.
"Let's put his stuff away. We'll have something to eat, and I'll drive you home."
I smiled and nodded. "Okay."