“You can graba shower if you need to.” The nurse had been on duty before. This was probably the second or third shift she’d been looking after Simone since I’d been here.
“I will. I’ll ask my mum to bring in a towel.”
“I’ll get you one. If she wakes up while you’re showering I’ll bang hard on the door.”
“Thanks. How do you think she’s doing?” I’d asked the same question to at least three other nurses and two doctors.
The nurse sat down and I noticed that her name tag said ‘Liz’.
“She’s had head trauma. Scans show that the swelling is reducing. Her vitals are all good. Twelve years of experience tells me that she’ll pull through and wake with a nasty headache. Twelve years of experience tells me that you can never predict anything with head trauma. They got the piece of shit that did this yet?”
Liz folded her arms and eyed me.
“Video footage. There were cameras nearby.” I couldn’t think about who it was. I’d spoken to Lauren, my parents, made sure the restaurants were okay as Simone would want that, but if I thought about who had hurt her, nearly killed her, I’d hunt them.
“They’ll get whoever it was. I can feel it.” Her eyes cast over to Simone. “She’s just moved.”
I forgot about cameras and Liz and instead looked at the woman who owned my heart along with my daughter. Liz was right; she had shifted. Her head was now facing towards me slightly and she looked more relaxed, more like she was sleeping.
“What’s happened?”
“I’d say she was coming out of it. Give her another day or two and she’ll feel like she’s had a night out with a couple of bottles of whisky and a side of tequila. In the meantime, she’d probably appreciate a husband who didn’t smell like three days’ worth of sweat.”
“I’m not… we’re not married.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “In which case, I’ll expect an invite to the evening do at least. I’ll get you a towel and I promise, I’ll bang on the door if she wakes up while you’re beautifying yourself.”
I almost laughed.
* * *
It wastwo days later when she opened her eyes and gripped my hand weakly. Five minutes later and she was vomiting, or trying to, given she had been on an IV for five days.
“Jack…” It was one word before she lay back down, the doctor backing away, muttering something about things being good.
“Sim.” I moved her hair from her face. “Thank God.”
“What happened? Lauren?”
“Lolly’s fine. Wanting to see you.” She’d been to visit every day, my parents bringing her. They were staying in Simone’s house – it felt strange to without Simone being there but Lauren had cried at the idea of going, saying it was like they were leaving her.
“Good. My head.”
“It will hurt, baby.”
She smiled. “Baby.”
“What else do I call you?”
“Chef?” She squeezed my hand.
I laughed. “Only in the kitchen. You should rest.”
Her eyes were closing again. “Be here?”
“Always.”
There was more in that word that just the answer.
