"I imagine anyone in your shoes would be," Dr. Wilson says, and I can practically see him nodding with that sympatheticexpression on his face. "I sure would be. But remember the facts, Atlas."
It's a calm wave that washes over me then, and I close my eyes, breathing through it.
"She's alive. She's being treated. She's in capable hands."
"And?"
"I did not cause this," I say, glancing to the door where Sheriff Grady is now lingering. He sees that I'm on the phone and mouths for me to take my time.
"You didnotcause this," Dr. Wilson says firmly, and I feel the coil around my chest loosen even more.
"Thank you, Dr. Wilson," I say, before adding. "For everything."
"You need me again, you call me—I don't care if it's five minutes from now. You call me, understand?"
"Yes," I whisper.
"Good," he says. "Take care, Atlas."
The line goes dead, and I see Sheriff Grady walk into the room. I freeze when I see that he's holding a very familiar item in his hands.
My own hands start shaking.
"They brought this from the scene, Atlas."
I take Wendy's purse from his hands. It's her Mary Poppins bag. She always called it that because whatever you needed, she had it with her.
A seam ripped? She's got a sewing kit.
Forgot to brush your teeth? She's got a toothbrush and toothpaste for you.
"Thank you," I say, taking it from his hands and pressing my face into the soft orange fabric. Her scent hits me, and I take deep, greedy inhales of the comforting warm vanilla.
It makes tears well up in my eyes.
"I'm going to see if I can find out any more information," he gives me a small grin, flicking the gold star on his chest. "I throw this around, people start talking."
I nod, glancing back at the bag in my hands. Sheriff Gradylays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes before walking out of the room.
Hugging the bag to my chest, I feel something poke under my chin, and I frown, opening the back to see that it's a thick file. Something from work?
My curiosity gets the better of me, so I take the file out and freeze when I read the top.
"Oh, baby..." I whisper, reading it over and over again to make sure what I'm seeing is real.
Withdrawal of Petition for Legal Separation
She withdrew the separation.
It shouldn't be a surprise, but it is.
This is what we've been working toward. Restoring our marriage. Getting back together. Me being the husband she needs, the father our children deserve. All the work, the feeling, the tears, the sweat, the bumps were worth it because Wendy wants to stay married to me.
Instead of feeling like it's too late because she's hurt in this hospital, I let the tears fall. A needed release.
And I focus on hope.
I grab onto it tightly, hold it to me, and think of my kids. I think of my wife. I think of my family. I think about how sometimes things fall apart and allow us to put them back together. I think about how sometimes things that are restored are even better, shinier, and stronger.
