Unbroken Ties

The fluorescent lights shone bright in my eyes, forcing them awake. My limbs felt stiff and numb, as though needles were forced through every tendon in my body. I groaned, and stretched out, trying to free the rigidity from my bones. I frowned, and took in my surroundings. I was in a hospital room, the sterile smell only just now hitting my nose. I was sprawled across a white armchair, along a long row of hospital beds. The beds were mostly empty, except for the one right next to me. In it, there was a man. Something about him tickled my memory, but I wasn't sure what. He had tousled and unkempt brown hair, as though he had been out cold for a while. His facial features pointed to an Asian heritage, but his skin was so pale that it was concerning. The only thing that was assuring me he was alive was a machine that monitored his heartbeat next to me, which was beeping steadily. I didn't know why the thought of him dying scared me so badly, but it did. A nurse walked into the room, and checked on the man beside me. As she worked, I tried to ask her a question.

"Excuse me, miss?'" I cleared my throat. "Miss?" I repeated, a little louder. She must have been absorbed in her work, though, because she continued in silence. So, I waited for an awkward moment until she left, watching her work. When she did leave, I took a closer look at the man. For some reason, I desperately wanted to look into his eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and maybe I wanted to see who he was. I took his hand in mine, and traced the fingers, the knuckles, the lines in his palm. He had soft hands, as though his work was of the mind and not the body. I needed to know who this man was, why I felt so connected to him, and why his connection affected me so deeply. I sat there for what felt like forever. Nurses came and went, and I stopped trying to talk to them after the first time. I didn't want to disturb them, if they could save him. The sun rose and set, lightening and darkening the room as much as possible, with the fluorescent lights searing the eyes of anyone who looked directly at them. But the oddest thing was that in all my time here, not a single person had come to visit my mystery man. He was alone. And it appeared that I was, too. We would be alone together, when he woke up.

But until then I sat, straining myself trying to remember his name, his story. And when I couldn't, I made up his stories. One day, he was a death row lawyer knocked into a comatose state only days before he would've saved the life of an innocent man. The next, he was a scientist, thrown into a slumber by a deadly chemical reaction in the office, but he managed to escape only seconds before death would've closed its icy fist around him. Or he was a kind zoologist, who was play fighting with his favorite gorilla, and the gorilla went a little too far. He was a new man to me every day, but none of the stories ever felt right. He was probably more ordinary than my imagination would allow, but that didn't matter to me. Because I had a feeling that I loved that man from the bottom of my heart. No matter who he was. Which brought me to the question of who I was.

When I wasn't making up insane stories about the mystery man, I was trying to remember me. I was unsure of anything but my connection to the man. I didn't know my name, who my family was if I even had one, where I lived, what my job was, or anything about myself at all. But for some reason, that didn't frighten me. To me, it felt normal. I was aware that I probably should know my own name, at the very least. But not knowing somehow felt better. Because knowing meant responsibilities, and with myself free of those burdens I was able to spend all my time with him. Wondering, and waiting. Waiting for him to wake up.

More time passed. More nurses came and went. Doctors visited rarely and quickly. No visitors. I watched what felt like hundreds of sunrises and sunsets, saw thunderstorms and snow. I might've been there for years, but I never felt the need to leave. I stayed by his side, ready to wait for eternity. Thankfully, I didn't have to. Because one day, he woke up.

It was a day like every other, if anything was unique about it I suppose there were more nurses. They bustled in and out like worker bees, swarming around the mystery man. I was so tempted to ask what they were doing, if they thought he might wake soon, but didn't dare disturb their work. Then, one of the nurses spoke. Not to me, but to each other.

"Do we have any contacts to call for him?"

"No, I don't think so. A complete stranger called 911 for the accident, and no one's tried to visit yet." An accident? That tickled her memory in the same way the man had.

"Not one person in the three years we've had him?"

Three years? Had I really been sitting in this chair for that long?

"No, but he does have a wife."

"How do you know that? And why hasn't she visited him?"

"I know because of the ring," The nurse pulled his left hand up gently, showing a small silver band around his left ring finger. He had a wife? Who was she? Why hadn't she visited? Was he alone? That was an insane question. Of course not. He had me. I didn't care if he was married before, I would still love him. I couldn't wait until he woke up, and I could finally look into his eyes and remember. Remember him, and remember myself.

"Well, he'll be waking soon. We'll need to keep a closer eye on him."

"Of course." And with that, both nurses left the room. After overhearing their conversation, I found myself brimming with anticipation. He was going to wake up soon! I couldn't wait. I stared at him more intently with each passing day. After only three, his eyes fluttered open.

Immediately, I shot out of my chair and shouted for a nurse. But they must not have heard me, because they didn't come running. That was fine, I wanted to be alone before the commotion started again anyway. I bolted to his side, and finally looked into his eyes.

They were gorgeous. They were a deep brown color, and gleamed the color of honey when the light hit them. There were almost imperceptible gold specks in them, but the eyes were so deep I swear I could've swum in them. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed to be looking right through me. Suddenly, a nurse burst into the room. She saw his eyes were open, and immediately called for help. She was edged out of the way as they surrounded him, trying to calm him and asking him if he could speak, if he needed water. When he nodded weakly, they helped him sip the water gently, before he fell asleep again. After that, he woke up sporadically, but for longer periods of time, until one day he woke up permanently. This was the best and the worst day ever for me.

"Welcome back, Mr.Patterson. How are you feeling?" Patterson. That was his last name.

"I'm alright, I think." His voice was raspy but deep, and she could hear the man he used to be before the coma struck.

"Where's my wife?"

"Sir, I don't think you're ready for that information yet." This felt like a very intimate moment, so I began to fiddle with my hands. I'd never looked at myself before, only him. And there was something on my left hand.

"Please tell me. Is she alright?!" There was a ring around her left ring finger. That's odd. Was she married, too? That would complicate things.

"Sir, I really don't think-"

"You don't honestly expect me to let that go. Where is Sarah?" Sarah? That name was so familiar. And the ring on my finger looked familiar, too. Where had she seen it before?

"Sir-"

"I. Insist." he practically growled. Then, she remembered. She had seen it on his hand. The same ring. Which meant that she was his wife. They were married! Joy shot through her veins, electrifying her. But why were they worrying? She was right here, right next to him. She was about to open her mouth to say so, when the nurse spoke in a grave tone.

"Sir, I'm really sorry to be the one to tell you this. But..." she hesitated, her skin paling. "Three years ago, you were in a car accident. You're very fortunate to be alive." A car accident. Something fought inside the recesses of her mind, tugging and struggling to be free.

"And Sarah?" he whispered, fear shaking his voice.

"I'm sorry sir. She didn't make it."

The memory broke loose. They were driving on a slippery road late at night. They were on a road trip to God knows where. They were laughing, and screaming their heads off to some song on the radio they'd never heard until that night. There was no one else on the road. Until a pair of blazing yellow headlights ripped around the bend. They bobbed and wavered along the road. He was drunk. But they were a little tipsy themselves, and stupidly, they weren't concerned. Until the car bobbed too much at just the wrong time. Until it clipped their tire, and they lost control. Until they flew into a lamp post at too high a speed. A lamp post that nearly tore through the car. A lamp post that shoved her husband, Jonah, and his head was thrown against the dashboard so harshly he didn't look like he'd wake up. A lamp post that forced her head down, too, and a shard of glass that hit her at just the wrong angle at just the wrong impact. After that, I only remembered waking up in the armchair completely unscathed.

"You mean she's... gone?" Jonah whispered. The nurse said nothing. "No." Jonah said. "No. No. No no no!" he sobbed. "She can't be. She can't!" I so badly wanted to scream. To take his hand and tell him that I was right there. That she would never leave him, not in this life or the next. But I knew that wasn't true. I knew that I wasn't there, not really. That I was in the next life.

That I was dead.

This thought hit me like a punch. I was gone. I wasn't really there. This realization, accompanied by the background noise of the love of her life sobbing and the nurse desperately trying to calm him down tore me apart. There was nothing that I could do. I glanced out the window, trying to get some fresh air, trying to be free of this horrible moment. And saw a set of white marble stairs. Were those... the stairs? Was this my chance to move on? Could I leave Jonah behind like that? I knew I would probably see him again, but I didn't know when. More importantly, I also knew that whatever was at the top of these stairs would not be the same without him. I took a step, straight through the window, like it was never even there. The stairs felt solid. I took another step. And another. I could go. I could make it. I could be free of all earthly ties. But that also meant free of Jonah. I glanced back to the man weeping in his bed, while nurses and doctors tried to get him to take a sedative of some sort. I knew the answer before it was even a question. I sat down on the stairs, and began fiddling with my ring. I couldn't watch him be broken by my death, so instead, I watched the sky, like we always loved to do. I knew my choice was the right one. I would wait. After all, I'd already waited three years. I could wait however long it took for me and Jonah to finally meet again.

To meet on the other side.