Ким Карр - Torn

I feel myself tremble as I imagine our perfect life—our children’s lives being complete unlike either of ours were as children. “How many kids do you want?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “As many or as few as you want.”

Smiling so hard, my face hurts; I run my fingers along his cheek. “Three, I think three. Yours is the perfect-sized family.”

Kissing my fingers he says, “Yeah, it is. Three is a good number.”

His eyes smile with that light I love and I ask, “What?”

He rubs his hand over my stomach. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you’re going to look pregnant.”

Tears of joy escape my eyes before I kiss him. Kiss him with love, with adoration, and a happiness that makes my stomach flutter.

He nestles his head on my shoulder and we lay quiet for a while, listening to the rain and just enjoying being together.

After a while River looks up at me. “I love you,” he whispers and his warm breath sends a shiver down my spine.

“Me, too.”

“You love yourself?”

“No silly, I love you.”

I feel his mouth against my neck. “Can we promise to always use words to tell each other how we feel?”

“Of course,” I say because I can promise him that. I want to spend my life with him. I love him more than words can ever express.

Reaching his hand down between my legs, he smirks and coyly says, “I’ll take ‘of course’ as a green light in any conversation we have from now on.”

Giggling because it wasn’t long ago that he said “of course” couldn’t be assumed in any conversation and now he’s laughing about it, I hop off the bed and go find my jeans. Reaching into my pocket I pull the guitar pick out and close it in my hand. Back in bed next to him, he just looks at me skeptically. Opening my palm I show him the pick that reads, “I love you.”

Eyeing the pick he says, “I knew which one was missing immediately and I want that back, you know.” Then he gently lifts my hand and kisses it and the pick together. “I love you, too.”

God, I love everything about him and I don’t want to wait another day to be his wife and have his babies. I prop my elbow on the pillow and rest my chin on my hand. Pressing into him so that our bodies are melded together I ask, “River Wilde, will you marry me?”

“You can’t ask me that, I’ve already asked you that question.” His hand moves to my backside and pushes me further into him—solidifying us as a single unit.

“No, I mean marry me tomorrow. We can go home, grab a bag, and head to Vegas.”

His hand slides down my thigh. “I don’t know. My proposal was much more romantic. I’m the kind of guy who likes to be wined and dined, and, besides, I’m not sure we can hop a flight to Vegas naked.”

Hiding my smile I tell him, “Alright Loverboy, no making fun of my proposal. It was impromptu.”

He grabs my left hand, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses my ring. “I would love to marry you, Dahlia London. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

I smile widely and lean in to kiss him.

He pulls away, and draws an x over his heart. “And I promise you’ll never regret marrying me.”

His words sear me, branding me to the core. I know I will never regret one single second with him and suddenly I know what I have to do. I quickly stand and he sits up, staring at me in confusion. I walk over to the room-service tray, grab a butter knife, and return to the bed. Sitting in front of him, I hand him the knife and offer my wrist. He looks at me as if questioning what I’m asking him to do.

I nod my head. “I don’t have to wear a no-regrets bracelet because I know I will never regret a single moment of my life with you.”

He swallows and then loosens two of the screws on my bracelet. He stares intently at me as he removes the last thing connecting me to Ben. I’m now completely his, not that I haven’t been since the day we met, but somehow this cements it.

He touches his forehead to mine and whispers, “Thank you.”

I lean back and clutch his face in my hands. My eyes meet his and there are no words to describe the look on his face right now.

He pushes aside a piece of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. Slowly kissing his way down my neck he tells me, “I want you forever.”

I whisper back, “God, I love you so much.”

His lips lift into a smirk. “Good, because now that we’ve both professed our undying love for each other, can I touch you everywhere?”

All or Nothing

“Amazing Grace” starts ringing from the floor where River had tossed our phones. They rang on and off all day, but neither one of us paid attention to them. We needed time together, alone, to just shut out the world.

Looking sleepy-eyed at the clock, alarm overcomes me. It’s only 4:23 a.m., why would Grace be calling so early?

Jumping out of bed, I look for the illuminated phone on the carpet; the phone stops ringing before I get to it, but starts again immediately. I hit the ANSWER button.

“Hello?”

“Dahl, I’m sorry to call you like this,” he says and I tense at his wistful tone, anger surging through me. How dare he use Grace’s phone to call me.

“Ben, I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t ever call me again.” I seethe and move to hit the END button.

“It’s Grace,” he manages before I actually hang up.

My pulse races as I stagger to the bed.

River sits up. “Give me the phone. I’ll take care of it.”

I shake my head no and hold up one finger.

“Ben, what about her?”

Ben is quiet for the longest time.

River’s mouth tightens and he tries to grab the phone from me, but I turn away.

“Ben, tell me what’s wrong.”

River reaches to turn the light on and wraps a blanket around me.

“Dahl, she’s in the hospital.”

My eyes fill with tears. “Hospital? What happened?”

“It’s bad, Dahl. I’d rather tell you when you get here.”

Seeing my pain, River senses the urgency. He stands up and pulls his boxers and jeans on.

“No, tell me now.”

“We rushed her to the ER last night. She had a massive stroke.”

“A stroke? What does ‘massive’ mean?” I am trembling as I reel from the news and try to understand what it means.

River is on the hotel phone calling the valet.

Ben is crying. “She’s unresponsive. Her brain is hemorrhaging. I think you should come now.”

“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?”

“Just come now. We’re at Mission,” he says and then hangs up.

I can feel my face go slack, my mouth dropping open slightly, and all I can do is stare wide-eyed at River. He’s looking over at me with concern. I open my mouth to speak, to reassure him, but snap it shut and gulp. Finally I manage, in a raspy, barely audible tone, “We have to get to the hospital in Laguna as soon as possible. It’s Grace.”

He squeezes me against his chest and I allow myself a minute to lean into him. His fingers find my chin and lift it up. “I’ll be with you every minute. Okay?”

I nod. I blink. I’ve been broken and glued back together so many times already—not again. Please not again. I rest my face against his chest and cry out, “Please let Grace be alright.”

* * *

Sirens wailing, lights cycling red, an ambulance pulls into the entrance where the bright blue letters read “Emergency Room.” River follows the signs to visitor parking and we enter the dark underground garage. I stare silently ahead as he squeezes my hand and we head into the hospital; I’m suddenly petrified of what’s going to happen. The sliding doors open and shut as we enter. Stopping at the information desk, River gives Grace’s name. After a few clicks of her keyboard, the woman directs us to an area called Comfort Care and I’m not sure whether that is good or bad. I flinch as we walk through the hall and hear a snapping noise. Someone is raising a gurney and for some reason the noise is more than I can take right now.

Every step brings me closer to Grace. I look around as we walk and think how hospitals are strange places. People are always whispering everywhere. Why? Are they afraid that speaking out loud makes everything more real? I look into each room as we pass them; families sit with their loved ones, some old, some young, some looking well, and some looking very sick.

We cautiously approach the ICU and Serena is talking to one of the doctors who has a chart in his hand. He looks down at the papers and she nods her head, her face expressionless and unreadable.

River stops at the waiting area, but I keep walking. He squeezes my hand. I know he’s here for me, but I have to go see Grace. I’m scared of what I will find but I know I have to do this. I turn to look at him and he nods.

I travel what seems like miles and when the doctor goes in the room, Serena turns and sees me. “Dahlia,” she cries, her eyes filling with tears. I look into the room and see Ben by the side of the bed and start to walk in. Serena grabs my arm and Ben’s position is preventing me from getting a clear view.

“Serena, I want to see her. How is she?”

I look at her face, and I know it’s bad. “Let’s go over here and talk,” she manages, taking deep breaths in between her words. She walks us back to where River is standing and motions us both to sit down. She sits next to me and grabs my hand. River holds the other.

Taking another deep breath she says, “They just did a CT scan and the swelling has moved to the other side of the brain.”

I blurt out, “It will go down, right?”

She squeezes my hand even tighter, “No, Dahlia. There’s nothing they can do. It’s just a matter of time before her heart or lungs give out.”

I shake my head. “But we’re in a hospital. Of course there is something they can do.”

“They’re giving her morphine to ease any suffering and she’s on oxygen to help with her breathing, but, Dahlia, she has no brain activity. She’s already gone.”

“No, Serena. I don’t believe it.” I can’t accept what she’s telling me, but I pull her to me and hug her as tight as I can. My heart shatters, but I struggle to pull myself together. Grace is Serena’s mother and I know what it is like to lose your mother. I blink back my tears, trying to be strong for her.

“I want to see her.”

She nods her head and stands. I look over to River and walk with Serena to see Grace.

As we walk back down the hall, I say a silent prayer. I haven’t prayed to God since he took my parents from me, but I pray now. I pray for him to turn Grace’s condition around and to give me the strength to make it through whatever happens.

My stomach is in knots as I take slow, cautious steps toward the bed. Red lights blink from various devices and a white sheet covers most of her small body. The closer I get I can see that it’s Grace lying there, but it doesn’t really look like her. She’s too pale, her hair unkempt, but she looks asleep, like I might be able to wake her if I try. So I take her lifeless hand and squeeze it, mentally willing her to squeeze back, to wake up. But her hand is cold and unresponsive against my feverish skin. I clutch her hand harder, trying to warm it, and bend forward to place my forehead against hers, kissing her. “I love you, Grace,” I whisper.

Through the metal bedrail I see so many wires, tubes, and cords leading from one machine to another and then to her. I’m surprised how noisy they all are for such a quiet place. Every whoosh pumps oxygen through a clear tube, each bleep indicates the rate at which her heart is beating, and the sound of air compressing monitors her blood pressure. An alarm goes off and I jump. When Grace’s body twitches slightly and she gasps for air, I look at Ben in horror and scream, “Shouldn’t someone be in here to monitor her?”

He looks at me somberly, withdrawn even as he answers, “It’s okay, that’s just a warning that her oxygen saturation level is low.”

Quickly, a nurse comes in and turns the dial near the tank. She waits a few minutes to take Grace’s pulse, and then she leaves. I hear whispering behind me and see Serena is talking to River outside the door.

When my eyes return to Grace, it strikes me anew how ashen and lifeless her complexion looks. How can this be happening to Grace? This woman has been my mother since the day mine died. She shared all my ups and downs and guided me through so much. My throat tightens and I suddenly feel dizzy. I can’t stay in here. I run out of the room and go to River.