Pam anxiously fiddled with her wedding band around her finger, pulling it off, then on, off then on. She’d rubbed it almost raw. She sighed and leaned back in the chair, the one she’d become all too comfortable with. The nurses took pity on her almost instantly, and found her the biggest, and softest rocker in the ICU. She’d become so accustomed to this room, and the sounds and sights that were once unrecognizable, all too familiar now. There was a stack of books on a table next to her, she’d already ready almost fifteen of them to him by now. Sports Center was constantly playing on the television, and there were framed photos everywhere in the room. Photos of Philip’s missing teeth, and Cecelia’s school photo. For the first time in months, her face felt so free, maskless. She rubbed her jaw, her brain anxiously telling her not to touch her face, and remembered it was okay, it was all okay.
She stared at the frame of her husband. Though, she wasn’t sure that Jim was lying there in that bed, far too big for him, swallowing his thin frame whole. No, Jim was surely at work, or playing a round of golf with a client. It was almost 3pm, he was certainly picking Cece up from school to take her to dance, and Philip to the park. He wouldn’t be here, at this hospital on a Friday afternoon, no, this wasn’t her Jim. This was someone else.
“Pam, do you need anything?” Lacy, the day nurse slipped her head in Jim’s room, peaking around the corner.
“I’m fine,” she murmured quietly, and pulled the blanket tighter around her. The room wasn’t cold, but every bone in her body felt like ice. Pam pulled the blankets around her shoulders and walked over to the bed, she planted herself at his side, careful not to touch any of the tubes, wires, and lines attached to his body, and curled close to his frame. He looked like a child, helpless, and too thin. They assured Pam he was getting enough nutrients. Enough nutrients to keep him alive. She knew what they really meant. His face was shaved every day by his morning nurse, and Pam had no say in this. The tape wouldn’t stick right with the hair, so it was gone. His hair was always sweaty, falling in his face, and she’d move it off of his brow. He looked so much like the Jim she met years ago. Boyish, young, and always furrowing his brows. She wondered what he was thinking about, if he was thinking at all. There had been a circle of conversations, a go back and forth with every specialist, and surgeon she met with.
“There’s no brain activity, you’re going to have to make some decisions, Mrs. Halpert,”
“There’s a possibility there may be some brain wave activity, he’s been moving his fingers lately,”
“We aren’t sure right now Mrs. Halpert, we’ll just have to wait and see,”
She’d had enough of it, she’d begun tuning then out during their daily rounds. They’d squeeze Jim’s toes, lift his hands up, stare into his dark pupils, and every day, she’d close her eyes, and pretend she was somewhere else. Sometimes they’d be at the beach together, sometimes back in Pennsylvania at the office pranking Dwight, occasionally in their bed together, keeping each other warm during the cool winter nights.
“Tomorrow is March 4th,” she stated. She talked to him, even if he didn’t reply back, she knew he was listening.
“Cece will be eleven. She’s told me that she wants nothing. She told me all she wants is,” she stops. There are so many frogs in her throat, and her eyes begin to well. She’s not sure any tears will fall, she’s not sure there are any tears left.
“All she wants is for you to come home.” She finished, wiping her eyes with her sweater. Her wrist, still scarred from the minor surgery she’d had to endure for her wrist. A broken wrist, that was all she’d walked away with. A quick procedure, they’d assured her, but she had been screaming. All she could hear was the screaming coming from deep inside of her. She was screaming for Jim, she’d lost sight of him so quickly, and there was so much blood.
“You have to stop,” she’d voiced aloud. She couldn’t do this to herself for the millionth time. She’d relived August 24 over in her head multiple times a day. It had been 164 days, more than half of the year. She was certain the amount of hours she’d been in this hospital room had far outweighed the amount of time she’d seen her children. Pam began to feel the guilt creeping up again. The sickness that washed over her, and then she’d look down at her stomach, bulging under her shirt, and the constant reminder of him was right there. Kicking her in her kidneys’ at this very moment.
“Stop” she whispered, rubbing the butterflies in her belly. She glanced out the windows to make sure no one was looking in, and undid one of the straps around Jim’s wrists, and placed his hand on her stomach. She’d let him feel their child, their little girl. She had to know. She desperately needed to know. How the airbag hadn’t removed any possibility of this miracle baby, she didn’t know.
It wasn’t until days after she’d been in the hospital did she find out about the baby. At first, she believed it was hope. A sign from God, or whoever was looking out for them, that Jim would wake up. He wouldn’t leave his children, he wouldn’t leave this baby, he wouldn’t leave her. But he hadn’t opened his eyes, not willingly anyway, in 164 days. As days turned into weeks, and then into months, this feeling grew inside of her, along with that baby. Feelings of, “How could you leave me with three children?How am I supposed to do this alone? I can’t do this alone” She wasn’t prepared for mothering her children alone.
She closed her eyes, listened to the whir of his ventilator, lulling her to sleep, wrapping an arm around his body. She did this every day, spent hours in his bed with him. She was certain the nurses didn’t like it, but it wasn’t going to stop her from being close to Jim. He had finally had the bandages removed from his head, and his jaw, and he was healing. On the outside, she saw progress. He was warm to the touch, his heart was beating, but dear God, where was he?
“Mrs. Halpert, your son is on the phone,” She stirred, jumping out of the bed, careful not to knock into Jim, and moved toward the nurses station, peeking back once at him before stepping into the hallway.
“Mommy!” Philip was screaming on the other end of the phone, her stomach flipped.
“Where ARE you?!” He sobbed on the other line, and she heard the sound of busses driving past him. His teacher, Mrs. Avery grabbed the phone,
“Mrs. Halpert, it’s been three times this past month that you haven’t picked Philip up from school, I really feel as though-”
“I’ll be right there,” she stopped her mid sentence. She was not about to hear whatever was going to come out of Mrs. Avery’s mouth. She was a good mother. She had given every last ounce of energy to Philip and Cece. So much so when she looked in the mirror she felt she’d aged ten years. She felt too old to carry this child. Too stressed for it to survive. She wouldn’t get attached to her. She couldn’t.
Pulling into the lot, she saw Philip sitting on the sidewalk, his head in his hands, with one of the after school monitors standing close by. She put the car in park, and ran out, taking her son into her hands; he refused to look her in the eyes.
“Phil,” she put her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t move,
“Philip,” she tried again.
“Why do you hate me?!” He suddenly looked up at her, his eyes swimming with tears, his brown bangs hanging in his eyes. That was it, she was the worst mother on the planet.
“I don’t hate-”
“You do! You keep forgetting I’m at school, you don’t talk to me at night before bed anymore, you can’t remember how to make my sandwiches right, and you’re with Daddy all the time! Why can’t you just bring him home?” He’d broken. He was sobbing, uncontrollably in her arms, and she pulled him close. There was nothing to say. What does any mother say to her child in this situation, she rubbed his hair, hugging him against her frame, her knees bruising on the pavement.
“C’mon,” she picked him up, his weight felt so heavy in her arms, and placed him in the back seat.
“Cece’s going to kill me,” She mumbled to herself, and quickly drove to the middle school down the street, finding her eldest kicking a soccer ball, entirely alone, in the grass field.
“Cecelia!” She hollered. Her daughter looked up, grabbed her ball and her backpack, and wordlessly moved to the car. She climbed in the front seat, something Pam had been protesting for months, and buckled in.
“Again?” She said quietly, and her face burned red. For a moment Pam sat there. The car engine roaring, almost deafening.
“I’m sor-”
“Stop.” Cece laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Before she knew it, there were airpods in her ears, and Philip quietly crying in the back.
“Jim,” she whispered, her forehead now resting on the steering wheel. “Please, please wake up.”
