The Tragic Life

Chapter 32

This has to be the strangest forty-eight hours of my life. I haven't moved an inch from Emmy's hospital room unless to use the toilet. The NHS kindly providing me with a bed to sleep on should I need it.

Emily's condition is stable, and she no longer needs the ventilator, but she's still being kept on the Intensive Care Unit for observations. Even though she's showing signs of improvement, she's also extremely groggy, so sleeping seems to be the only thing she needs right now.

I'm half-awake when a hand that belongs to Jamie touches my shoulder to try alert me to the food he's offering up. It's been hours since I touched a piece of food, so I know that I should at least try a bit of it to lift my energy levels.

"I'll wait here while you go eat it." They don't allow food in here for safety reasons.

I climb off the bed to stretch out my arms above my head. "Okay, thanks."

Neither of us have left one another's sides during this ordeal, but neither of us have spoken much either. Well, maybe I'm the one who hasn't done much of the talking. Am I grateful for his support? Yes. Are we still separated? Yes. Do we need to talk? Probably.

I enter the hallway of the hospital that leads to the exit, in desperate need of some fresh air. It doesn't help with the anxiety to be stuck in that hospital room all day, so the doctors and nurses recommend that you take a few breaks and go home to sleep.

I won't leave her, but I will enjoy a little down time by eating my ham and tomato sandwich on the bench on the green near the bus stop.

York hospital is a busy one with people coming in and out all day and night, so it amazes me how quiet the Special Baby Care Unit can be amongst the chaos of everywhere else.

This sandwich is really quite good right now, and I see that he bought me some of my favourite crisps too. Original Pom Bears.That's the thing with Jamie. He does listen, even when you don't realise you're giving information to take, but it's not enough.

I spot Matt carrying a duffel bag in the distance of the carpark, catching his attention when I call out his name. He power-walks over this way with a tired smile having not had much rest himself.

I put my sandwich down to speak to him. "Is Yasmin okay?"

He grabs the seat next to me to settle the bag between his spread knees. "Still throwing up."

I told them to go home after her fourth bout of morning sickness, knowing that her home comforts will be what she needs right now. It took a while for them to agree with me, but when she couldn't make it to the toilet in time it proved that I was right.

I'm worrying about her because she's always been so petrified of sick. "Gosh, I don't miss that part of being pregnant. You need to get her some still ginger drink, ginger biscuits, and ginger tea."

He chuckles. "So, anything with ginger in it then?"

My head nods up and down. "It's really important. Plain crackers too. I used to keep them stashed beside my bed for when the nausea hit me."

"I'll remember those when I go back to see her," he says.

"Please do." I turn my body to get a better view of his face. We smile at one another. "I haven't had the chance to really ask you about becoming a dad. How're you feeling about it all?"

"Nervous. Anxious. Shitting myself," he replies, making me laugh.

I nudge my knee into his leg. "Scared then?"

There's something good settling into his eyes, though. A peaceful expression. "Yes, that's a given, but I also feel incredibly blessed. Not wanting to sound cheesy, but my wife is going to make the best mother. I'm so excited to see her holding our kid. It gets me emotional."