I look down at him, gazing into his eyes for the first time since the whole nightmare started. They’re tired and bloodshot, but I recognise them like I last saw them yesterday. They look calm, at peace — or perhaps it’s just the tiredness. He’s squinting at me, as if even the little light in the room hurts to look at.
“I’ll give you a moment,” says Clarkson, vacating the room. I hear the door lightly thump shut behind him, and we’re alone.
I’m lost for words. I don’t know what to say. Those eyes are looking at me in that way they always did, piercing my soul, as if they knew my every innermost thought. Of course, they didn’t, which is what led us into this whole situation in the first place, but–
I blink and push the negative thoughts from my head.
“Adam,” I say at last after what seems like an eternity of the only sound in the room being the regular bleep, bleep, bleep of the equipment he’s wired up to. My voice cracks a little. “Adam,” I say again.
He keeps looking at me, but he says nothing, and doesn’t move. The only sign of life in him right now is in those eyes, and even then the spark within them is weak.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Look, you don’t have to say anything. I know that I’m the one who put you here. I know that I’m the one who caused this nightmare to happen with my selfishness and foolishness. And I want you to know that I’m sorry.”
His eyes keep looking at me, but now I see them fill with tears. He doesn’t make a sound, but a sparkling droplet emerges from the corner of one eye and rolls down his cheek before plopping onto the sheet.
“I know there’s things you want to say to me, Adam,” I continue. “And I will hear all of them, listen to all of them. I owe you that much.”
I stop, and find myself sobbing, though I’m not sure why.
“I don’t even know if you want me here,” I say, tears blurring my vision. I blink them away. “After what I did I’d understand if you’d be disappointed that the first person you saw when you woke up was me. But I– I never gave up on you, Adam. I know you gave up on yourself — and on me. I know you felt like your world ended when I said those words to you. But I–”
I can’t finish the sentence, and only partly because I’m not sure exactly what it is I want to say. The tears are flowing freely, and trying to say any more only comes out as choked sobs. I take his hand in my own and lift it up. There’s no resistance in his arm, and his fingers don’t grip my hand in the way they once did. I squeeze his hand all the more tightly to make up for it.
I hear the door open behind me, and Clarkson comes back in quietly. He places a hand gently on my shoulder. It’s a comforting feeling, and it reminds me of my father.
“Okay, Evie,” he says. I’m only vaguely aware of his voice. “I think it’s time that we let him rest for a bit.”
I nod, trying to compose myself and failing.
“He’s been through a lot,” continues Clarkson. “And I’m not sure any of us will understand quite how much. Perhaps he won’t, even. But he’s on track to make a full recovery. I can’t say how long that will take, but it will happen. Then your life can begin again anew.” He hesitates a moment. “Assuming… you both want it to, of course.”
Do I? I can’t answer that right now, but the amount of times I’ve stood by this bedside imagining what this very moment would be like surely speaks volumes. Or does it? What if I was just coming here to deal with my own feeling of guilt? It was my sin that put him here, my sin that destroyed his world, his future.
Am I willing to give him what he wants? I still don’t have an answer to Annie’s question. I’m confused right now, not thinking straight, waves of emotion washing over me, making my knees tremble and my pulse race. I’m barely even aware of where I am or what I’m doing, and am surprised to find myself outside the room sat on one of those uncomfortable chairs, Clarkson kneeling before me.
“Evie,” he says. “I know this has been tough, and it might not be quite what you’d expected or hoped for. But I thought you would want to be there as soon as it happened.”
“Yes,” I say in a voice little more than a whisper. “Yes, I would. I do. I will. I– oh, whatever, I… Thank you.”
“Now,” he continues. “You’re clearly exhausted, and so is he. Despite being unconscious for so long, it’s pretty obvious that he needs some proper, uninterrupted, normal sleep before he takes on this brave new world he finds himself in.”
I feel Clarkson’s eyes on me and I’m suddenly aware that I’m barefoot, clad only in my robe and pyjamas.
“How about I call you a cab?” he says. “You’re in no state to be walking home like that.”
“No money,” I say weakly. My blood suddenly runs cold, but I calm down slightly as I pat my pocket and realise that I fortunately did have the good sense to at least pick up my keys when I raced out earlier.
“Ah,” says Clarkson. He stands and fumbles in his pocket before drawing out a leather wallet and lifting a crumpled £10 note from within. “My treat,” he says.
I’m overcome with gratitude. I want to cry again, but I really don’t have the energy. I take the £10 note and just look at it dumbly.
“Look, Evie,” he says. “What happens between you two from here is your business and your business alone. But I want you to know that I have faith that you’ll both do what’s right. I’ve seen the way you look at him every time you’ve been in here, even when there’s nothing new to report. And it’s inspirational. Few people have the strength of character to keep going like you have. That’s worth a lot. And I’m sure he knows that too.”
I’m glad someone has faith in me, because although I know he’s back, suddenly I feel very alone. It’s all on me to draw this sorry business to a close.
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