Dum Spiro, Spero
      Chapter 4  -

When I was barely six years old, my parents installed our first in ground pool. It was a simple oblong shaped mass of concentrated water, buried in the earth, that I was forbidden to sample. Two days after it's arrival, I found myself drowning in a sea of crystal blue water, hurriedly turning red, from the gushing wound above my right temple, thanks in part to my brother's idea of an initiation game, that involved balancing my unsure feet on slippery tile at the pool's edge and his "help" in taunting me to stay upright. The water was unseasonably warm, filtering into crevices I was unaware existed on my small frame, and the chlorine stung, against the open skin of my forehead. My nose felt as if someone had lit a match in both nostrils, and the flame was spreading upwards to my eyes. My heart beat so fast, my chest felt like it would explode. Mostly I remember the blurry images of bodies, I didn't recognize, making wild motions, that somehow seemed to play in a slower speed than the rest of the world, above ground, and tiny oxygen bubbles slowly fading to black. I closed my eyes, and stopped resisting.

It was peaceful there.

I don't recall anything that happened later that day, not even the vomiting of water, Mick would later tell me was so cool because it was like I was a human waterfall. He took great pleasure in telling me the explicit details of that day; how they stitched my head back together, and how he was so sure he could see my brain spilling out of my eyeballs, how angry Mama and Papa were at him for letting me almost die, but how he'd taken it like a man for both of us. He thought I should be proud, the accident should have made me fearless, if I could survive that I could survive anything.

Funny, that the only thing I ever remember feeling, in the days following, was scared. Not because I had almost died, but because I hadn't and I could not remember how that came to be. Several hours of my life, were no longer my own, because I was too scared to recall the actuality of almost drowning in a sea of my own blood.

As long as I slept in my peaceful state of weightlessness, everything else faded quietly into the background.

For twelve hours, the memory of that incident has found its way too my consciousness, more times than I care to admit. For twelve hours I have stood guard, as Michelle's husband and next of kin, against Rick, Claire and any number of nurses and doctors who have told me to go home, the only thing Michelle will be doing is sleeping. For twelve hours, I have sat and watched, helplessly, as Michelle has stopped resisting whatever forces have taken control of her mind, body and spirit, and I cannot blame her. It's peaceful there, I'm sure.

There's nothing physically wrong with her, other than a minor case of exhaustion, the doctors have assured me over and over. "She'll be fine and walking around in no time, after the sedatives wear off," they say, pleasantly and pointedly. I have bothered them with my constant badgering, my ripped sleeve evidence of that fact, when things with security got a little hairy. But they do not understand what I am asking of them, and I suppose they never will. I am not asking to be told she is not sick. I do not want warm smiles and quiet condescending tones, telling me that Michelle is not physically ill. I want this medical mystery to have a name, and a cure and tests that can be run to determine treatment that will make it all go away. I do not want to know that Michelle is fit and physically healthy.

I want the cause of this, to not be me.

She's only stirred once, about an hour after I rushed her to this sanitary hell, after emergency cat scans and X-ray's and blood tests and some other laundry list of exams they felt were necessary Her glassy eyes stared at me, recognition setting in, fear soon following, and she reached her hand out to me, to lead her through this, her doe eyes explaining all she could not say. She just repeated "I'm so tired" like a mantra, and I stood over her, one arm flailing wildly, trying to flag down a doctor, the other calmly stroking her hand, speaking words of strength I'm sure she didn't even hear. It was then, that Rick and the attending physician decided a sedative was in order. Just as soon as she'd regained coherency, she was lost to me again, trapped in some unconscious world of her own making, and the last thing I saw before her eyes fluttered close, was peace.

My neck and back strain, from the chair that I've occupied for so many hours, and I squirm uncomfortably, never letting go of the hand I have stroked for two hours, straight. My body is overcome by it's own state of exhaustion, running on nothing but the fumes from a soggy egg breakfast, I'd consumed the day before and the constant cups of coffee some sympathetic nurses have dropped off on their rounds. They seem to understand, in a way doctors cannot. I think I even heard one of them comment on how much Michelle must mean to me, if I can't even leave her side, while she is "only" sleeping. Maybe they do not grasp the entire situation, but if there be light, then let there be light. I won't question how much brighter that light could shine. I'm surprisingly grateful for any bit of understanding, I can muster.

I pull my chair forward, closer to her bed, and rest my chin on her hand in mine, whispering to a mind I know, will not let herself recall what I have to say, and for that I'm glad.

"I know you're scared. And I know you'll be scared for a long time. You won't even remember me sitting here with you, the entire time. And I'm sure Rick isn't going to emphasize that fact... maybe he'll mention me in passing, if I'm lucky." I laugh, defeatedly, knowing that if I garner even a slight acknowledgment from holier than thou Dr. Rick Bauer, I should thank my lucky stars. "But I *am* here, and I have *always* been there, next to you, in that bed you hated, at that table with my mother, on that beach, and in that prison, in that garden, so many places... *always*, even when it's the last place you believed I was capable of being. You have no idea... none at all. It's probably better that way," I add, with unexpected aloofness, too overwhelmed to speak with much emotion, in this moment. I, too, am tired, more than I ever imagined I could be. These past months have been a never-ending nightmare, made bearable courtesy of Michelle.

Now, she lays, broken. The burden of carrying the both of us, on her tiny shoulders, too much to bear. I have pushed the boundaries so hard and with such fury, I have managed to break her spirit and in turn my own heart and foundation. I am ashamed, for not trusting her enough, to give her a say in her own life. I am ashamed, for pushing so hard, for some result, some resolve on her part, to hold my head above water.

I am sorry for being the lifeblood she is now drowning in.

And she does not even know, the half of it.

"Michelle... I know I've made promises to you, that I haven't exactly lived up to. I know that." I shut my eyes tightly, wishing away all the hollow words my lips have uttered. "But you have to know that when I promised to always love you, it was the one promise I knew I could always keep. And that hasn't changed, you have to know that. No matter what anyone else wants you to believe, or what you think is easier to believe." The lost emotion, worms it way into my throat, and I continue oblivious to everything but the stillness of her breathing. "I've loved you, even when I shouldn't, when it hurt, when I should have hated you, and *nothing* has changed that, no matter what I may say to you, or how I might act. You have to know that. If you know that, then you know everything you'll ever need to know, this will all make sense. Just hold onto that." I smile, for what seems like the first time in weeks, masking the tears that threaten to fall, silently convincing myself that a subliminal message is working it's way to her brainwaves, as I speak. If she can hold on, just a little longer...

I take a deep breath, letting my tired eyes, do what they must, as uncertain tears slowly trickle down to my chin, and our conjoined hands.

"I'm sorry, for more than you'll ever know. Maybe you'll really hate me when you wake up, or you'll be so scared of what happened, what I've done to put you here, that I won't ever get the chance to explain and that's okay. It is... Because no matter where you go, or what you do, without me..." I fumble at the mere thought, "you know what? I'll always be the one who made it possible for you to be free to do that, and that's the only thing that mattered to me, despite whatever you believe. For you to be free and peaceful... and not scared. Maybe it's my destiny to always drown, but I won't hold onto you anymore and pull you under with me. And that will be it Michelle," I choke on her name, tears overwhelming me. "You won't be able to punish me or hurt me, anymore, than I already have. But you'll be free. When it's all said and done, this will all be a memory when you're 80 years old with grandchildren running at your feet. And I know in your heart of hearts, you'll know I'm there, that I've been there, like I always was, like I always said I would be and that I made this all possible for you. And that'll be enough for me, Michelle. And you'll know that you were loved, as completely and fully as anyone could ever love another person. I don't know where I'll be, but just do me a small favor... when you look back at whatever was us, smile, because I don't know if I could stand the thought of anything less."

I pull back, finally letting go of her hand, and wipe my eyes free of the blur my tears have created, watching her small body, encased in a thin blanket begin to move restlessly.

I take one last glance, and smile, before I walk slowly to the door of her room, lost in a hazy mix of sleep deprivation, overwhelming emotion, fear for the future, but mostly peace.

It was peaceful here, while it lasted.

I close my eyes blindly wishing the memory away, and exit just as quietly as the terror was loud in my storming invasion of her life.

 
*Quod sum eris= I am what you will be