What if he died and she never got any clarity in their relationship or what was happening or why he’d cheated on her or ...?
Maybe that wasn’t what should matter, but it felt like what mattered.
“You don’t have to take me,” she said, even as she got into Sam’s truck.
“You’re not driving yourself. You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Do you want to hear that you look totally normal after finding out your husband was in a terrible accident?”
“No. No, I ...” A tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
It was a drive to the next town to get to the hospital, and Ben was there when they arrived, but she couldn’t go in to see him yet.
Sam hung back in the waiting room when they finally did let her go back.
“You’re the patient’s wife?” the doctor asked, her expression creased with sympathy.
“Yes. What happened?”
“From the notes we got from the other hospital, he slipped during a hike and fell down a mountain. They got him stabilized and thought it would be best if we got him back home.”
“So he’s stable.” Relief washed through her.
The doctor nodded. “Yes. He’s not awake right now, but that’s due to the heavy amount of painkillers he’s on. He has severe lacerations and broken bones.”
“But he’s not going to die?”
“If he was critical, they wouldn’t have flown him back to the States, though I haven’t had a chance to make a thorough evaluation.”
Nora nodded and braced herself to walk into the hospital room. He wasn’t going to die. He had to talk to her.
“Can I see him?”
“Of course.”
She pushed down on the door handle and walked in, sweeping the curtain aside. Ben. She hadn’t seen him for over a month now, and she hadn’t expected to see him like this. All his belongings were in clear plastic bags next to the bed. Including his phone. She could see it lighting up inside the bag, texts and missed calls flashing over the screen.
She moved to the bedside and looked down at him. His limbs were in traction, his neck in a brace. His face was familiar, undamaged. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, just as he’d done for years beside her before he’d bounced off to Chile to find himself.
“What did you find?” she whispered, leaning in and letting her hand hover over him. She was tempted to touch him. To push his hair back off his face. Did she have the right to do that anymore?
His mustache had grown into a beard.
When she’d met him, he’d been clean shaven. Through most of their marriage, it had been the mustache. Maybe it was good she couldn’t look at him now and see back into the past. See the man she’d met, who’d gotten past her barriers and convinced her that love was something she wanted to try.
She’d wanted this to work so very, very badly.
She just stood there, hovering, not sure if she should touch his hand or his face or not at all. His phone lit up again, and she turned her focus to the bag. To the phone.
Her answers were on the phone.
She’d never been one to snoop in Ben’s business. She’d let him go off to South America without questioning him too deeply. Because she’d wanted to trust him. She’d always wanted this to be the thing she’d dreamed about, and she’d let herself believe it was because it felt good to believe it.
Whether he was hers or not, whether she should touch him or not, the answer was in his phone.
She moved to the bag, hesitating before she picked it up and opened it, the ziplock making a loud noise over the top of all the beeping in the room. Announcing to the world:I can’t trust my husband.
