Falling Dawn (II)

Chapter 33

Anxiously, I waited in the ER, while Tom underwent treatment, thorough checks, x-rays and blood tests. Roger was sitting across the room from me, watching me inconspicuously. I had already flicked through a pile of magazines from the table in front of me, not being able to concentrate on anything, when I decided to give Dave a call. As I walked out the front door to turn on my phone again, Roger followed me with some distance. It was awkward being followed around, but I pretended not to notice him, understanding the need for his presence better than ever before. Turning on my phone, I had six missed calls and three text messages from Hannah. I resented her so much at that moment. Ignoring her, I dialled Dave's number, but the call went through to voice mail. I was concerned my voice wouldn't hold up when leaving him a message, so I hang up and turned off my phone again before returning to the waiting room.

Finally, one of the doctors appeared, a middle aged man with a kind face, soft brown eyes and an onset of grey hair. To my relief, apart from antibiotics, no further treatment was required. Michael, as it turned out, had stabbed Tom with a knife between his shoulder blades, which luckily prevented the knife from entering the chest cavity. The doctor explained with expertise Tom's wound and that he had received painkillers which have the side effect of drowsiness.

One of the nurses showed me to Tom's room. Rodger's steps echoed in save distance behind me through the empty hospital halls.

I had been amazed and relieved how well Tom was organised. During the ride in the ambulance it had briefly crossed my mind that there might be complications with me accompanying Tom to hospital. After all we had no official relationship. We weren't married yet. But then, Tom didn't with anyone. There was no family. Luckily, Roger handled everything, producing several legal documents on his Blackberry which had me listed as Tom's next-of-kin. I was speechless.

When the door to Tom's room opened, tears began dwelling in my eyes once more. My brave Tom, stretched out on his tummy on a small hospital bed, covered with white sheets. A drip was attached to his arm. As I stepped closer, I noticed that Tom was sleeping. His face almost as white as the sterile room he was occupying. Lost, vulnerable, was this a flash back into his past? "Why does Tom not get one of those beautiful rooms he organised for Hannah or Jan?" I asked myself. It didn't seem fair. But he was alive. He was breathing. The slow but heavy lifting of his torso was like a band aid to my pain.

I pulled the blue chair from the wall next to Tom's bed. Careful not to wake him, I slid into the armchair. A crunching sound escaped the artificial and well-used leather as my tired body hit its surface. Exhausted, I sank deeper into the chair, as the air within the seat upholstery gave way to my body's weight.

Watching Tom sleep, he looked so foreign, ghostly. I took hold of his cold hand, covering it with mine to warm it. He didn't move as our skins touched. Involuntarily, my head leaned forward, resting against Tom's temple. I craved for his familiar warmth, but not even his scent reached me. My nostrils were filled with the smell of disinfectant. To get just a hint of the Tom I knew, I dug my nose deeper into his neck and inhaled deeply. There it was. With my eyes closed, I sobbed over all the obstacles and inequities life threw at us.

"Why can't we just be happy together? I love you so much, Tom." I hadn't even noticed that the words had escaped my lips. But I didn't care that Roger heard. All I cared about was the man in the bed in front of me, whose torso continued moving up and down with each deep in- and exhalation.

"You need to look after yourself, Tom, because I need you. If something happens to you, I will not ever be able to smile again. I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you. I promise I will from now on. Your life is just so different to mine. And you have been trying so hard to fit into mine, while I pushed yours away, trying to convince myself that I need nothing of it. I promise, Tom, to try harder to fit into your life. I want to be everything you want me to be, because that is what you are to me." I sobbed into Tom's neckline. The words hardly escaped my throat, but kept on racing though my head.