Sometimes, you can be happy and not even realize it. You have your regular bursts of happiness, a funny joke, or maybe a shared moment, but the sadness you've come to expect is... nonexistent. There is no reasoning, nothing you get from the universe or God or any other source of divine inspiration. Like so many other aspects of the world, it just... is.
I didn't know she could be such a pivotal key to that happiness. In what sort of world can everything go right for you, but then that one single thing can just tear it all down? It is said that we, as the human race, are a culture of being comfortable. So it is easy for us to slip into a quiet rhythm of living when we don't even realize how good things are.
I know this. I've seen this.
I've felt this.
She wasn't supposed to happen into my life like she did, but she arrived and I could never have imagined her leaving. She was quirky, a dark kind of humor and a quick smile rolled into a body that she always said only I could ever love. She was gangly, in a way, but the curve of her hips and the swoop of her arms belied a carefully sculpted form. She tripped into my arms, quite literally, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her.
It took three years to settle into that smooth rhythm, that comfortable feeling of content. We loved each other. I loved her, and she loved me. I knew everything in my life was finally a source of happiness, and my brain just couldn't quite recognize that. I knew it, I just didn't KNOW it.
I loved her. I was sitting at the cafe, that quaint place in which we had spent so much of our time. The owners knew us, and we were considered a pair of the "regulars" even though we rarely were seen inside. I reached my hand into my pocket. The ring was still there.
I was relieved. The lunch was amazing and she was even now capturing my attention like never before. We were sitting on the patio, enjoying the weather and each other's company. We made small talk until after the meal. She got up to retrieve her bag from her car, cursing her own forgetfulness. I watched her cross the street, and I smiled. I pulled the ring out of my pocket and waited for her to turn back towards me. She saw me, and I went down on one knee.
Her hands went up to her mouth, complete shock and glee showing in her face as she dropped her bag on the asphalt. She came running towards me.
The cyclist didn't see her, and she didn't see him either. I saw them collide, and I watched her roll and slide down the street. It seemed like slow motion. One of the other people at the cafe pulled out their phone and called 911. I got up and ran to her.
There was road rash all over one side of her body and blood seeped from a wound on the back of her head. Her arm didn't look right, and one of her ankles was bent the wrong way. I was crying.
A few minutes later, an ambulance pulled up to the scene and the EMT's had to drag me away from her. I yelled. I couldn't leave her like this. They told me she would be in good hands.
I spent the next seven months, three weeks, and two days in her hospital room. The doctors had told me that the blow to her head had pushed her into a coma. She was stable, and her limbs were healing, but she wasn't waking up. I didn't care. I would be here for her. I was thankful for the fact that I could work off of my laptop. There were a lot of meals I spent at the hospital cafeteria. Her family visited every now and then. I was always there to greet them. I held her hand and watched her for signs of waking up. Seven months, three weeks, and two days after the accident, I was surfing the Internet beside her bed. It was late, eleven o'clock according to my watch.
I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Her hand moved ever so slightly. I quickly closed my laptop and set it aside. She shifted her shoulders and she looked around. I waited patiently, letting her take in her surroundings. She turned to me. We smiled at each other affectionately, and she began to speak.
"Yes."
