Hold My Breath(69)

I look over my shoulder as I move across the room, and I wink before kicking my boxers into the bathroom along with my pants.

“Just wanted to make you watch me walk away, baby,” I tease.

She moans out a tired laugh, but I know she’s not far from falling asleep again. It’s not quite six in the morning, and the sun is barely up enough to spill light into our room. I get dressed quickly in the bathroom, then splash cold water on my face, forcing myself awake and washing away those last few temptations lingering in my memory.

I grip the sink on either side and lean close to the mirror, looking myself in the eyes, finally chuckling and shaking my head.

“Okay then,” I whisper to myself. I’m going to walk out this door toward responsibility, but I’m also going to hope like hell that Maddy is right where I left her when I return. I won’t touch her again until I’m sure she truly understands what she’s getting with me. That feeling of faith, though—it’s back. I believe in Maddy—I believe in me and Maddy. She’ll understand, and she’ll be here.

She’ll be mine.



I get to the hospital by six thirty, and Tanya is kicking a vending machine as I walk from the elevator on the fifth floor.

“Give it hell, girl,” I laugh. She twists her head, looking at me over her shoulder then kicks once more, following it up with a single, loud laugh.

“It’s stuck,” she shrugs.

I nudge my head to the side and she steps to the right as I grasp the corners of the machine and shake it for a few seconds; a pack of Funyuns finally falls down to the hatch at the bottom.

“Oh my god, thank you, Will!” she says, pushing me out of the way and kneeling to reach her hand inside. She grabs the bag and has it ripped open within seconds.

“Hungry?” My eyebrows are high.

She stuffs two rings in her mouth and holds her palm flat against her lips while she chews, lifting a finger with her other hand, the bag dangling in a tenuous grip between her thumb and pinky. The bag shakes, so I reach up and grab her wrist to steady it. I don’t like her pushing herself so hard…so hard that she doesn’t eat.

“Starving,” she says, finally, stuffing two more rings in her mouth.

“You should have called,” I smile. “We would have brought you food.”

Within a minute, she’s crumpling up the empty bag and moving down the hallway. I follow her, and we stop at the water fountain.

“I didn’t really sleep at all. I was too busy watching him sleep. They monitored him all night,” she says, words spilling from her mouth a mile a minute. She stops long enough to guzzle some water, then stands and runs her arm across her mouth. Her eyes are like saucers.

“Maybe drink a little coffee, did you?” I laugh.

She exhales heavily, her shoulders sagging while her head rolls around in a slow circle as she stretches her neck. I pull her in for a hug and rub the place where her neck meets her back and she sinks into me.

“I have had, maybe, a gallon of coffee—yet, somehow, I still feel like I could collapse right here on the floor and sleep for days,” she says, her voice muffled against my chest. “But my brain won’t slow down. That…that’s the coffee’s fault.”

Her body shakes while she laughs. I let go and she steps back one pace. My hands stay on her shoulders while I look at her—the tired is amplified today. She’s been hospitalized for exhaustion twice since Dylan was born, and I fear a third time is coming again.

“Let’s get this blood work done and then you are going to lie down somewhere…” She opens her mouth, and I know it’s to argue with me about all of the reasons she can’t leave. I cut her off before she can. “You can stay here, so you’ll be nearby and won’t miss any of the non-updates I’m sure you’ll get, but I insist on the resting part. You have a family room with a bed. You’re going to use it.”

She blinks twice, her mouth a flat line, and her chest rises once, exhaling in defeat.

“This whole thing is killing me,” she says, her eyes pooling and the whites turning red.

“I know it is, but we’ve made it here. You’ve gotten him the best help in the world, Tanya,” I say, shifting to walk alongside her and cradling her to my side with my arm.

She wrings her hands in front of her, her eyes wide as we move along the sterile hallway, nurses rushing by with charts and trays with meds piled high. Sometimes I wonder how Evan would have done with all of this—if he would have been present at all. I used to think he would have. I gave him credit, but perhaps that credit wasn’t due. Time takes people off pedestals, and it makes golden boys seem less gold.

I let Tanya take the lead, following her into Dylan’s room. He’s sedated, but he always sleeps peacefully. His hands are curled where they rest on his stomach, and there are wires taped to his body in at least a dozen different places. Tanya sits down in the chair pulled near his head, on the opposite side of the bed from me, and she holds on to his arm, hugging it with her fingers.

“He’s my whole life, Will. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says, reaching one hand up to sweep the long strands of brown hair dangling across his forehead out of the way.

“I know,” I say, dragging a chair closer from the other side of the room to sit and face her. I press my hand on Dylan’s other arm and squeeze once. He doesn’t stir at all.