The Sick Wife Read online

  “Oh… thanks,” I say softly, feeling embarrassed. It’s actually Yvette’s silver cell phone case, which I temporarily borrowed. I feel a bit guilty—first I took her man, and then I took her cell phone case. But I’ve been so busy working that I never have a chance to go shopping, and I just kept dropping my phone and…

  I feel bad, but I don’t really have the energy to explain this to her now.

  “I didn’t think all those glitters and jewels were your style,” Veronica says as she puts her lunch in the microwave, and comes to sit down across from me.

  “It’s just temporary,” I tell her. Gabriel chooses that moment to text me, and now he’s being playful. I guess he knew I was stressed, so he’s trying to make me smile. He succeeds.

  “Okay. What’s going on?” Veronica asks. “I’m not an idiot. Who’s the guy?”

  I look up at my friend anxiously. I’ve been dying to tell her—or someone. Anyone. I take a deep breath. “Promise you won’t get upset?”

  “How bad can it be?” she asks. “Is it someone we work with? Is it Mike? I know that Mike has been putting the moves on you lately.”

  “No, it’s not Mike,” I tell her softly. I reach back to take my hair out of the tight ponytail that is killing my scalp. “I feel like you’re going to be really mad at me…”

  “Milla. Spill.”

  “Okay, okay,” I say, taking another deep breath for confidence. “You know my patient, Yvette?”

  “Coma girl? Sure.”

  “Before we sedated her, she asked me to call her husband, who’s this philosophy professor and writer from Paris, and…”

  Veronica’s eyes are growing narrowed.

  “I know how it sounds—but hear me out. They hadn’t even seen each other in like a year. They were estranged. Their relationship was already falling apart, and she was seeing someone else—”

  “Camilla!” she nearly shouts at me. “Are you serious?”

  Oh, god. I feel so awful. I lower my gaze, unable to look at her face.

  “She’s on a breathing machine! And you’re texting her husband?”

  “I know. I know. I know how horrible it looks… but V…”

  “Listen…” she says quietly, as if pondering this information. She holds up a finger. The microwave has stopped, but she doesn’t get up to check on her food. “Just because you haven’t dated anyone in a million years doesn’t mean you get to go after married men.”

  “I know…”

  “But!” she says loudly. “But life is weird. And sometimes you meet the people who matter the most to you in the strangest ways. So, if you say that this is real, and you trust him, and he’s good to you… I will support whatever crazy decisions you make.”

  “Really?” I ask, breathlessly. My heart soars. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “Nah. Love is crazy, anyway. We can’t choose when and where it happens.”

  I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I feel validated. She’s the first person to say something kind about my relationship. Now, it feels a little more real.

  Veronica reaches out to take my hand. “As long as you’re happy, Milla. I’ll always support you.”

  I stand up and walk around the table to give her a hug. She hugs me back.

  “Thank you,” I tell her softly. “Thank you so much.”

  “But what if she wakes up?” Veronica asks.

  I can’t help but feel a twinge of dread enter my heart at her words. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 9

  It’s been another long day. Longer than usual, because I stopped by Veronica’s place to take care of her daughter for a few hours while she ran some errands. When she got back, it was nice to catch up with her and share a proper meal, instead of the crap we usually have at the hospital.

  And it was so good to talk to someone about Gabriel. Finally.

  Returning to my apartment, I am so exhausted, and my head aches. I can barely put one foot in front of the other as I walk down the hallway, and my hand clumsily struggles to even unlock the apartment door. When did it become so hard to put a key in a lock? I am desperate to collapse on my bed and pass out without even brushing my teeth.

  But when I manage to push the apartment door open, I am struck by something odd before I can even turn the light on.

  It smells nice.

  What the heck?

  Did someone break into my place and spray air freshener everywhere?

  Stepping forward hesitantly, I’m a bit nervous about whether the potpourri burglar could still be here. I mean, at least it’s a friendly burglar who leaves the place nicely scented.

  Then I think of Gabriel. Did he find a way to get into the country? Is he here in my place to surprise me? Did he tidy up and clean things? My heart leaps with excitement.

  I scramble to push the light switch to turn it on, hoping against hope that there will be a man in my apartment. But what I see instead causes my mouth to drop open slightly in awe.

  There are flowers everywhere. Red roses.

  Bouquet after bouquet in every corner of the tiny apartment. I drop my keys into a little tray, shutting the door behind me before walking forward into the apartment. I smile and look around in puzzled happiness. I can’t resist a peek into the bedroom to see if there’s a human being there—preferably a naked man, but I would also be okay with a man wearing only boxers, briefs, or a bow tie.

  Unfortunately, I have no such luck. I reach into my pocket for my phone, and video call Gabriel.

  He answers almost immediately. He is somewhere outdoors, and there’s lots of green behind him.

  “You did this?” I ask him with amazement.

  “Well, I hope there aren’t too many men in your life who would fill your apartment with roses,” he says with a chuckle.

  “No, of course not. But why? How?”

  “Go to the bedroom,” he tells me softly.

  “Okay,” I say with a curious smile, following his instructions. “Now what?”

  “There should be a gift under your pillow,” he tells me.

  “Is this another vibrator?” I ask him with a chuckle. He only knows my address because he sent me a sex toy in the mail a few weeks ago. He thought it would enhance our video calls… and it really did.

  “Not this time,” he answers, as I hunt for his present.

  When my hand collides with a small velvet box, my smile disappears. “Gabe,” I whisper, and I drop the phone on the bed so I can pick up the little box with both hands. Hands which are now shaking. “What is this?”

  “Well, open it.”

  My stomach flutters like crazy as I pry the small box open, and sure enough, there sits a diamond engagement ring. It’s beautiful. Elegant. Vintage.

  “Gabe…”

  “Milla. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to ask this. But I just needed to ask you anyway. Would you marry me?”

  “Really?” I ask, in disbelief. And then, without hesitation, “Yes.”

  “Awww,” he responds happily. “For once you didn’t overthink things.”

  “Wait,” I tell him, as tears instantly fill my eyes. I pick up the phone and look at his face. “You’re already married. I think you forgot about that.”

  “I didn’t forget,” he tells me. “It’s just really important to me to feel like a future between us is possible. I need to have hope for us, in my soul.”

  “But what if she wakes up?” I ask him, in barely a whisper.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he assures me. “Things were over between me and Yvette a long time ago. I know that if she wakes up, it won’t be easy or simple for us to be together. But I just want you to know that it’s my intention, and I will do everything in my power to make this happen. I’m already yours, Camilla.”

  “I’m yours, too,” I say tearfully.

  “I’m a mess without you,” he tells me. “Every time we have some fight or you try to push me away—I feel sick. So sick, like I’m dying. I just want us to stop feeling uncerta
in. I want us to feel safe and secure in this relationship. I know it’s still new, and I know we’ll both have doubts again and again—but I want you to know that I’m serious, and I’ll be here for the long term. Forever.”

  “Gabriel,” is all I can manage to say.

  “Well, put on the ring,” he tells me with a grin. “Maybe that creep Doctor Mike will stop hitting on you if he knows that you’re no longer a single woman.”

  “Oh, is that what this is about?” I ask teasingly. “Are you marking your territory?”

  “Of course,” he responds. “I want the whole world to know that you’re mine now. Doctor Mike missed his chance.”

  “And what about your mom? That promise you made to her, that you would stick by Yvette and make things work with her, no matter what.”

  “It’s funny you should ask that,” he says with a smile. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Gabriel stoops down, and now I can see where he is, and why there is so much green all around him. It’s a beautiful cemetery. And he’s brought fresh flowers to his mother’s grave. I see her name written there on the stone, in elegant cursive:

  Camille Delacroix.

  “I told her all about the situation,” Gabriel explains. “I asked her permission, and if she was cool with it—she said you seem like a nice girl, and she really likes your name. She even let me use her ring. She’s especially excited for us to get started on making our seven days of the week.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Delacroix,” I say to the tombstone, as happy tears cascade down my cheeks. “Your son is pretty awesome. I mean, his wife is pretty awesome too. I can see why you liked her. I’ll try my best to treat him well, and never disappoint you.”

  “You could never disappoint anyone,” Gabriel says.

  “Also, Mrs. Delacroix, I promise to encourage your son to write more authentic books, because he clearly does not believe that DEATH IS FINAL if we’re having this conversation with you right now. Also, how can he claim that LOVE IS DEAD and the institution of marriage has no place in modern society, and then also go and orchestrate this super romantic proposal? He’s a bit hypocritical right? I mean, he actually likes marriage so much that one wife at a time isn’t even enough for him!”

  “Oh, sorry, there’s a bunch of static on the line,” Gabriel says, making fake static noises. “My mom didn’t hear any of that. Actually, she had to go, she has another call waiting. She’s a very busy lady, very busy.”

  I laugh softly at this. He grins. We just stare at each other again, for a while, with our eyes shining. We almost don’t even need to say anything.

  “So how did you manage to break into my apartment?” I ask him.

  “I called a company that specializes in romantic surprises, and they talked to your landlord and set it all up for me.”

  “It’s incredible. The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he says softly.

  “I just wish I could be near you right now,” I tell him with frustration.

  “I wish that, too… more than anything,” he says. “Someday, Milla. Don’t lose faith. Just believe in me.”

  “I do.”

  Chapter 10

  “I can’t believe he proposed to you,” Veronica is saying as we sit to eat in the breakroom. “That is absolutely insane.”

  “It was so romantic,” I tell her. “I really couldn’t ask for more.”

  “Where’s the ring?” she asks me. “I haven’t seen you wearing it.”

  “Yeah…” I pull it out of my pocket guiltily, and place it on my finger before extending my hand to show it to her.

  Veronica lets out a low whistle. “That is gorgeous, Milla! It looks like a family heirloom or something.”

  “It is,” I tell her softly. “I just… haven’t felt comfortable wearing it around Evie, so I’ve been keeping it in my pocket at work.”

  She nods understandingly. I’ve been very concerned about Yvette lately.

  After about three weeks on a ventilator, the odds of ever breathing on your own again become significantly worse and worse. Evie’s been on for about six weeks now. She’s lost a lot of weight. But she still somehow looks more beautiful than ever—maybe it’s all the spa treatments.

  I refuse to give up on her. Maybe feeling the ring burning a hole in my pocket has been motivating me to try harder. So, I’ve been doing everything I can to help her, for the past few days. I’ve been reading a lot about little strategies to help care for ventilated patients. Every once in a while, I turn Yvette onto her stomach, in hopes that more oxygen will get into her lungs. I leave her there for a few hours every day, usually when the doctors aren’t paying much attention so they don’t get upset at me for overstepping. I noticed that it seems to be making her oxygen levels go up quite significantly. It seems to be positively impacting her heart.

  It might be just wishful thinking, or all in my head, but I think it’s making a difference. So I’ve asked Veronica and some of the other nurses to continue flipping her over whenever they can. But her body is very frail. Today, I noticed some bluish bruises on her skin, and I am afraid that we have been too rough with her. All the flipping and turning can’t be very comfortable—but it’s worth it if it’s helping her to heal, and giving her a better chance of recovery. It’s also probably preventing bedsores.

  “Well, it’s still a beautiful ring,” Veronica is saying as she tilts my hand from side to side, admiring the diamond catching the light. “I hope someday you’ll always feel comfortable wearing it.”

  “I hope so too,” I tell her.

  Doctor Mike enters the breakroom in that moment, holding a coffee mug. He is about to move over to the coffeemaker to fill it up, but he pauses when he sees the rock on my finger. “Milla?” he says with surprise. “Is that an engagement ring?”

  “Yes,” I tell him proudly.

  He walks over to study my hand. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

  “Well… I kind of met him online,” I explain with embarrassment. “He’s in another country right now.”

  “So, you’ve never actually met him in person?” Mike asks with a raised eyebrow.

  Shit. I’m feeling so judged. I exchange a look with Veronica.

  “She doesn’t need to meet with him to know he’s the one,” Veronica says, coming to my rescue. “They have some kind of magical, epistolary relationship.”

  “Like… you guys exchanged a lot of text messages?” Mike asks skeptically. “What if the sex is horrible?”

  “Highly unlikely,” Veronica says in my defense.

  “Impossible,” I correct. “Sometimes you just know.”

  “Uh, well… what if he’s small down there? Have you at least seen a picture? You can’t buy a car without looking under the hood…”

  Veronica laughs, and I blush.

  “It’s 2021, Mike. I’ve obviously seen a picture.”

  “Oh, well, good,” Mike says, clearing his throat. “I just wouldn’t want you to be disappointed by some unpleasant surprise. I should go. I just came to grab a coffee…”

  Mike abruptly walks out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

  “Is he jealous?” Veronica asks with surprise. “He seems jealous.”

  “I have no idea,” I say with a shrug, staring at the ring on my finger with contentment.

  The door to the breakroom opens again, and Mike enters again. “I forgot my coffee,” he explains, pointing to his empty mug. He walks over to the coffeemaker to quickly refill his container, before leaving again.

  After he exits, Veronica dissolves into giggles. “He’s got a crush on you!”

  “What? Why?” I ask with confusion. “He’s known me for so long and he never seemed to care.”

  “Girl… that was before you started brushing your hair. Before you discovered the wonders of eye makeup.”

  “It’s just a little mascara—it doesn’t make a huge difference. I’m still me.”


  “Nope. You’re different,” Veronica says. “You’re glowing.”

  I guess I am.

  “Okay, enough about me,” I tell my friend. “Let’s focus on Yvette. I want to show you this article I found about a patient who was on a ventilator for two months…”

  Chapter 11

  Extubation. It’s a complicated process. And for some reason, none of the doctors want to even talk about it, when it comes to Yvette. I’m not sure if I’m crazy to hope or try. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know that this experience has severely harmed her body. Possibly irrevocable harm. I know that she’s going to need a ton of rehabilitation. But I really think that if we give her a chance to survive on her own, she will.

  So, I decided to take a huge risk and take matters into my own hands. I know it could risk my license and my job, but I just had to try. I’ve lowered the amount of sedation Evie is under for a few days now, and I’ve been checking her scores on the Glasgow Coma Scale.

  At first, nothing. No change.

  She wouldn’t open her eyes at all. She wouldn’t make any noises. She couldn’t seem to hear my voice or have any response to me touching her hand. I couldn’t make sense of it. But I did some more reading, and apparently with some COVID-19 patients, there’s a weird syndrome where their body recovers somewhat, and they are even able to come off the ventilators, but they stay stuck in a coma.

  I am starting to fear that even if I can get her off the machine, and remove the breathing tube… she may remain unconscious. It’s terrifying to imagine but I keep trying. I use my own judgment and experience, and go against the recommendations of the doctors, for possibly the first time in my career.

  “Come on, Evie,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Give me something. You need to fight. I’ve done all I can to help you. The doctors are giving up. You need to help yourself. Please.”

  No response. Nothing.

  “Don’t you ever want to see Gabe again?” I ask her. “What about your parents? You have people who care about you. They want you to go home.”