John opened the door to Evangeline’s hospital room. The room was filled with flowers, cards and pictures she hadn't seen left by the people who loved her and wanted her to feel their presence. He hadn't sent anything. He couldn't.
He’d been putting this off because at the back of his mind he’d assumed that she would recover. He imagined the two of them having coffee at the police station comparing notes on how bad the hospital food was. As a cop, John had looked at some of the worst things a man could see without flinching, but the thought of seeing Evangeline in a coma made him shiver.
He’d only taken two steps into the room when he stopped. She looked small, frail. Her eyes were closed and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was sleeping. John flashed back on all the times he’d come seen her sleeping in his bed. He’d climb in next to her and all the tensions and burdens of the day would vanish. Sometimes they’d make love. They’d furiously consume each other as if the hours they spent apart had been months. Other times he’d just lay there next to her and allow the sound of her breathing to lull him to sleep.
But today there would be no soft whispers or gentle kisses. Just him trying to reach through the void that had taken her away while the beep from the heart monitor echoed through the small room.
“Hi Gorgeous. It’s me, John.”
He sat in the chair next to her bed. “I’m sorry that I haven’t come by before this. But you know how it is. I’m still working the Truman murder and these arsons have everyone pulling double-duty.” He stopped speaking as he was buffeted by emotions he hadn’t felt in years. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, searching for the right words.
“That’s not exactly true. The truth is that I’ve been…afraid…to come here. When I heard that you were in here, I couldn’t believe…and now that I’m here…you have to open your eyes.”
He took her hand. It was cool to the touch. Her nails were beautifully polished. Michael had told him about Layla’s loving care of her sister.
“You’ve always been the strong one. You need to be strong again. You need to come back to us.” He swallowed hard. “Come back to me.”
“That’s right. I said come back to me. I refuse to believe our story is over. It can’t be. When I heard about your accident, I realized that some part of me always thought that we find our way back to each other. I know I screwed up. I screwed up bad. But here’s the thing: I love you. I loved you then. I love you now.” He made a bitter sound that no one would have mistaken for genuine laughter. "How's that for too little, too late?"
John looked at the machines and monitors. He was overwhelmed by the desire to take her away, away from that hospital with its disinfectant smell and fluorescent lights, away from Llanview with its bad memories.
He stood up and wandered over to the window. Even now, the weight of the truth was almost too much.
"How did we get here?" he asked. "How was I stupid enough to let you walk out of my life? That's when everything went wrong. The Statesville riot, Natalie, Cristian, the accident… Somehow my life turned into an ugly joke after you left." He turned back toward Evangeline with a rueful smile. "Feel free to say I told you so."
"I brought you something," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket as he walked back to her bedside. He pulled out a photograph. "This is one of the pictures you took. Remember? You said we were making memories. I didn't realize how important those memories would be to me. See, that's why I need you. We need to make more memories." He touched her cheek gently.
Without warning, John was jolted by the erratic beeping of the heart monitor, followed by an alarm. His blood ran cold. "Evangeline?"
John ran to the door and yelled down the hall, "Doctor!! Someone! We need help! Something's wrong!"
Nurses were already running down the hall and pushed past him.
"What happened?" one of them barked at him.
"I don't know I was just talking to her when everything started going crazy! What the hell's happening? Is she waking up?!" He reached for her hand again. "Evangeline! Can you hear me? I'm right here!"
Evangeline didn't move.
The nurse looked at the monitor and said "Damn!" She pressed the intercom button. "We have a code blue in room 217!"
Another nurse raced into the room with Larry Wolek, Evangeline's doctor.
The nurse began to steer John towards the door. "Sir, please we need you to step outside!"
John flashed his badge. "I am a lieutenant with the Llanview P.D.! This woman is with the D.A.'s office. I am not leaving!"
Just as he anticipated the nurse stopped her bullying. "OK, but please, stay out of the way."
Evangeline's position with the D.A.'s office had nothing to do with John's presence in her room, but he would be damned if they were going to make him leave when she might be waking up.
Michael rushed into the room. "John! What happened?"
"Mike! I think she's waking up!" he said, his voice filled with hope.
Michael looked over at Dr. Wolek. Their eyes met.
Michael grabbed John by the shoulders and grimly said, "John, she's not waking up."
John's hope turned to horror as one nurse leaned Evangeline's head back, inserted a tube and proceeded to squeeze air into her lungs and the other began to perform chest compressions.
Michael tried to turn John's away from scene. "Maybe we should go out into the hall."
"NO!" John broke free of his brother's grip. He wanted to return to Evangeline's bedside but he couldn't. He was frozen where he stood as everyone around him moved in slow motion. The nurse continued CPR for what simultaneously seemed like nanoseconds and eons. Finally, the doctor said "Hold compressions…"
The nurse stopped and they all looked at the flat line.
Dr. Wolek's face fell and he said, "She's gone."
The high pitched whine from the machines matched the scream building inside John as he shook his head.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant…" The nurse shut off the machines and Dr. Wolek said "Time of death…"
"No, no, no, no…," said John, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, John," said Michael.
"NOOOO!" shouted John as he sat up in bed gasping. He looked around his apartment, confused, sick, gasping for air.
A voice in the dark said, "John? What wrong?" A light came on.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Evangeline rubbing her eyes.
The cold that had gripped his insides began to fade with his nightmare.
She was there. Alive. Beautiful. Loving him.
He stammered. "You…You're…You're here. You're OK."
"I'm not the one screaming in the middle of the night," she said.
"I had a nightmare," he said.
"So I gathered," she said, as she kissed his cheek and stroked his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He stared at her, drinking in her beauty and love. "Absolutely not," he said. He kissed the palm of her hand. "I'm sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."
"We do?" she asked. "What are we doing?"
"Making memories," he said, reaching across her to turn off the light, "…starting right now."
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