2022 WATTYS SHORTLISTED || After being forced into a marriage by her devoutly religious parents, Aspen's husband is diagnosed with a life-limiting illness, and she must find her purpose as well as fight feelings for her husband's nurse. || Aspen Wat...
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"Please let him wake up," I whisper. I don't even realise until I add a quick 'amen' afterwards that I'm praying at the side of Joel's hospital bed like a 'good little Christian', as my mum would say.
The fact is, I'm the type of person my mother would loathe if she knew that I only pray when something bad happens. Just before we told my parents about the pregnancy, I uttered a prayer of strength. When we had Gabriel adopted, I prayed. When my waters broke, I prayed. I prayed when I let go of his tiny hand. Now Joel is sick, I'm praying. But when life is normal, when I have nothing to want, I don't believe.
Does that make me a bad person? Mum would say it does. But what is bad? I guess it's all relative. I guess I've never really known anything beyond the fact I don't think God is, well, real. Do I believe in a higher spirit?
Potentially. I think something or someone is listening. Karma? Maybe because of what's happened to me. God? I don't think so, or at least not the Church of England God.
But it doesn't hurt to whisper a prayer for something, just in case.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. I see the date and realise we've been married two years today. Happy anniversary to us, I suppose.
I hear him move. His mouth utters something incomprehensible. I watch his blue eyes slowly, ever so slowly flicker open, adjusting to the light and the white, sterile surroundings. They finally land on me, and his confusion becomes obvious. His hand slowly grabs for mine, and I lace our fingers together before pressing the call bell with my free hand.
"Aspen," he whispers. "Where am I?"
A sigh of relief comes from my mouth that I didn't know I was holding.
"Hey, don't try to talk. You're okay Joel. I'm here," I coo as two staff members rush in. They turn the call button off, and I step back from the bed. "He just woke up. Pressed the button straight away."
The man in green scrubs – who I think is the doctor – nods and starts shining lights in Joel's eyes, talking to him about if he remembers anything while the nurse stands by my side.
The nurse and doctor discuss something in medical jargon while I stand there, waiting for Joel to look at me. He doesn't, though, and I wonder why.
"How do you feel, Mr Watkins?" the doctor asks.
"Fine, just thirsty," Joel manages. His voice is croaky, his eyes keep scanning everything around him. "What happened?"
"Your wife found you in your kitchen: you had an epileptic fit," the doctor says. "I need to go and get your notes from the desk. Jane will help you sit up and get you a drink while I get them."
