Love and the Sea and Everything in Between

chapter forty-two

I sit beside Adam's bed. Outside, his parents speak with one of the nurses. I can tell they haven't slept in days because I know what the sleeplessness looks like. I know what it does to you because I see it every time I see my reflection in Adam's window or in the mirror of the hospital bathroom. I see how the sleeplessness starts with your eyes, etching lines all around them, sucking them inside your skull, deeper than they're ever meant to be. Then, when it's done with your eyes, it moves to your forehead – there are more lines there now and you look like you've aged a decade. After that, it changes the way you talk. Your words come out like syrup, slowly and all mixed together. Being tired is a lot like being sick – you lose all your energy and motivation and everything becomes ten times harder – even the easy things.

I know I need to sleep, but I'm terrified to leave Adam alone. Watching someone you love as they fight for their lives is like a nightmare, except it isn't over when you wake up.

"Fight, Adam," I whisper. "You're not done yet."

I stare at him. His face is sunken and his eyelids twitch. I haven't felt the touch of his skin in days and suddenly I crave it. I crave him in the deepest way possible, long to feel his fingers as they brush against my skin, longing for his lips against mine, longing for the beat of his heart.

"I don't know how I could ever live without you, Adam. You showed me what it is to truly live." I stand. "Now, if you'll let me, I can show you too." I bend over him and slowly, carefully, I place my lips on his forehead. I pull away just a little and whisper, "It's time to remember what it's like to live, Adam."

When nothing happens, disappointment settles in. I don't know what I thought would happen. Maybe, deep down, I thought my touch would be enough. It isn't, though. So I turn to leave because I can't bear to be here anymore. I can't bear to watch the life fade from his bones.

I can't bear it.

Just as my fingers touch the door handle, I notice his breaths are deeper now, more rapid. I turn around, squinting at him and I see it. His mouth opens as he takes a deep breath, sucking the air out of the room. I step closer, eyes wide. "Adam?" I rest my hand on his arm and look down at him. His eyes twitch and flutter open and there they are, those chocolate eyes.

I'm laughing now and I'm smiling and I'm crying. At first, Adam's eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but then he looks at me. His expression appears confused and surprised and lost, but he's alive. And he's awake.

"Mr. and Mrs. West!" I yell. "He's awake! Adam's awake!" They come running in right away and gather at the side of his bed.

I want to hold him, but I know how weak his body must be. So I control myself and settle for resting my hand on his arm. He tries to say something, but he can't.

"Don't try to speak, Adam," the nurse says, checking his vitals. "Give your body some time to adjust to being awake."

"I'll let you rest and I'll be back later, okay?" I tell him. I don't want to, but I know I should leave and let his parents spend some time with him. He gives a weak nod and I smile and then leave.

There's this strange euphoric feeling that overwhelms me and I step inside the first room I see, which happens to be a janitor's closet, and I just cry.

But these tears are no longer tears of sorrow or defeat or hope or anger or regret. They're tears of joy and elation. And I feel like I'm soaring right now. Because Adam's alive. He's back. This emotion is strange as it consumes me, but it's welcome.

He's alive.

Adam is alive.

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