I closed my eyes briefly, silently giving thanks that I wouldn’t have to worry about O’Connell being locked up. I tried hard to open my eyes when he called out my name, but I was already falling back into the darkness, and as I did, I could swear that he was crying.
“WHAT’S WRONG, DOC. Why won’t she wake up?”
“Mr. O’Connell. Your wife has only just been moved from intensive care. The fact that she has come around once is a good sign, but keeping her asleep is her body’s way of taking care of her while it repairs itself. The knife pierced her lung and only just missed the main artery. It’s likely that she’ll have respiratory problems for the rest of her life, and the road to recovery will be a long one. You’re very lucky that she’s still alive.”
“I fucking know that, doc. What I want to know is when she’ll wake up!”
“Con! For fuck’s sake, rein it in,” I heard Danny chastise him, and I could feel the anger radiating from O’Connell. I desperately wanted to calm him down, but I was trapped once again inside my own body.
“I’m sorry, doc,” O’Connell apologised. “I can’t thank you enough for saving Em’s life. I’m just worried, that’s all. I need to hear her voice and feel her touch to know that everything’s okay.”
“You will, Mr. O’Connell, but right now our biggest concern is the risk of infection. I know it’s crass to say, but you need to learn to be patient, and I mean it about the visitors. No more than two at any one time. I’ve lost count of how many times my nurses have evicted people from this young lady’s room.”
Their conversation faded away. Be patient, baby, I’ll be there soon.
DANNY WAS READING Moby Dick to me when I finally came around. I didn’t disturb him, content to let his raspy voice narrate the story for me. I imagined him as an old, Irish Captain Ahab. He glanced up to find me watching him and slammed the book shut.
“Thank fuck for that.” He snorted. “I thought I was gonna be reading this shite for days.”
“Moby Dick isn’t shite,” I whispered.
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
“It was in the waiting room, and they told us to keep talking to you in case you could hear, so I picked this shite to read so you’d wake up and tell me to stop.”
I smiled at him and reached out my tired hand. He held it in his own, and I remembered his touch as one that kept me warm in the dark.
“O’Connell?” I asked.
“I convinced him to go and have a shower and a shave and something to eat. Course now he’ll be pissed that you woke up, and he wasn’t here.”
“How long have I been here?”
“’Bout a week, darlin’. The knife punctured your lung, and they had to operate. He missed your heart and a major artery, but your lung is in pretty bad shape. You got an infection straight off the back of the surgery, so it was touch and go for a while.”
I lay there and just tried to process everything. I was in pain, confused, overwhelmed, and tired but, above all else, I was glad to be alive. Frank was behind bars now and between this and the rape, I doubted he’d get out of prison any time soon.
“I knew you’d make it,” Danny mumbled, as he stared at the cover of the book. “I always said you were a fighter, and I wasn’t wrong. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. You’re not supposed to outlive your kids, especially when they go trying to save your life. It wasn’t your time yet, sunshine, not with all of us keeping you here. We need you too much to let you go.”
He continued to stare at the book with watery eyes, as he contemplated what could have happened. There was little I could say to console him, but I was alive, and that was all that mattered. Besides, my throat was burned up again from all the talking, and I needed to rest. Tapping his hand, I asked him, “Read to me until I fall asleep?”
He rolled his eyes and sniffed, as he turned back the crinkled cover.
“Call me Ishmael...”
OVER THE NEXT WEEK, I was never alone. Almost every time I woke up, O’Connell was there. On the rare occasions that he wasn’t, one or more of the boys would be there with me. Danny continued to read to me, and I knew he was secretly enjoying the book, because I caught him still reading when he thought I was asleep. I’d already asked Nikki to bring me a copy of The Color Purple ready for when we’d finished. If he didn’t like it, I’d let him pick the next one.
Visiting hours didn’t apply to me and sensing that they were fighting a losing battle, the staff at the hospital gave me a private room so that we didn’t disturb the other patients. It was the same room that was currently staging poker night. Having no idea how to play and no interest in learning, I flicked through one of the stacks of magazines I’d been given and amused the guys by reading them all their horoscopes. The hospital’s ‘set in steel’ rule of only offering patients and not visitors tea or coffee hadn’t gone down well with Danny. He’d taken to charming the rounded, stern-faced, trolley lady into giving him his regular caffeine shot. Pushing the door open with his butt, he walked in carrying two coffees. Of course, I was still too sick to drink caffeine, but the trolley lady didn’t know that. So, he snagged an extra one for himself. O’Connell played cards with one hand, as he insisted on holding mine with his other one. He couldn’t bear to be in the same room and not touch me, like he was constantly reminding himself that I was still there. Watching everyone getting comfy, a thought occurred to me.
“What’s happening about the Ramos fight?”
The whole room stopped as all the boys turned to look at me.
“Um... the fight is gonna be cancelled, Em. With everything that’s happened, there’s no way that Con will be in good enough shape to fight.”
O’Connell had gone back to studying his cards, clearly unaffected by the conversation.
“But if you cancel the fight, will he reschedule?” I asked.
“Will he fuck,” Danny huffed.
“He wants a stepping stone, and they’re two a penny. If Con doesn't fight him, he’ll find someone who will.”
“It doesn’t matter. There’ll be other fights. I’m not leaving Em,” O’Connell said with indifference, as though the fight meant nothing to him. But I knew better.
“What do you think?” I asked Danny.