The Safe Girl

Simon Says: Final chapter. Took awhile as I didn't want to just throw together a scene and call it a day. Thanks for sticking with Stephen, Jess and me during this little adventure.

This story obviously would make much more sense with the first three chapters under your belt. And a warning -- there is a bit of a flashback thing going on in this story.

Per usual, if your thing is more on the action side as opposed to the thought slow burn side then this will frustrate you.

I love hearing from people. Let me know what it did for you, even if you stay fully anonymous. Knowing this story positively impacted people is my only compensation.

Happy reading. :)

+++++++++++

The bright Spring day would have normally been a very happy one. Diane loved Spring. She wasn't very good at keeping a garden but she loved the smell of fresh flowers and the sight of dainty butterflies as they performed their little dances in the air. Our home sat out past much of civilization, so the chatter of birds remained largely uninterrupted by anything noisy or man-made. Normally this would be beautiful. Today there was an undercurrent of sadness which I simply could not shake. Nor did I feel I ever would.

I pulled up into our driveway and ran quickly around the car to help Diane out. The small army of doctors estimated that she would be with me for just a few more weeks, so they approved her return to her home where she would be the most comfortable. A hospice nurse would visit twice a day to help with medications (mostly for comfort) and any other needs that may have arisen.

I opened the car door and reached down, carefully taking her arm to help her stand. She playfully swatted my arm away. "Now, now, Stephen, I can handle this part." She smiled her sweet smile.

She tried to remain strong for me. I know it. She knew that my strength ebbed with each passing day. Each day that I saw her melting away just a little bit more. Each day that we took a step towards her no longer being a part of my life. Each day as she moved closer to being a memory.

She must have seen my sad look as she punched me again. "Look alive Stephen. I do need you for bell service!"

So I dutifully grabbed her luggage from the back of the car and walked protectively near her as she slowly approached our front door.

Her strength had slipped but she still could move around. She just was weak most of the day.

I dragged her bag into the house. She turned to me and jokingly gave me a dollar tip and not-so-jokingly a kiss. I just held her. "Thanks for that . . . "

"Which one? The tip or the kiss?"

I just smiled, dropping her bag, grabbing her hand and leading her into the living room.

I gently helped her to sit on the couch, pulling her legs up and then laying the comforter on her. "What can I get you?"

"You."

"No seriously? What can I get you?"

She smiled and pointed at me. She then turned her hand and crooked her finger motioning for me to come to her. I sighed, put on my best face and scooted in next to her. Her legs rested on my lap where I gently rubbed them.

"Is this good enough, princess?"

She smiled and nodded. "I am glad to be home. I missed everything here. Mostly the smell! Hospitals smell very mediciney . . . " She laid her head back and rested her eyes.

"Kiss me please."

"Where?"

She raised her eyebrow and smiled a mischievous smile. "Oooooh. I get to pick do I?"

I squeezed her leg with my hand.

She pointed to her lips. "Let's start here for now." And so I did. I leaned over and kissed her gently on her lips. Her lips parted and my lower lip slipped between hers. It was a little wet, very soft and without any concept of time. My tongue touched her upper lip a little, something that I know she loved. She smiled. "Someone is frisky!"

"Always when you are involved."

She kept her eyes closed. "I may sleep a little, Stephen. Would that be ok?"

"Yes sweetheart. As much as you like. I will be here."

I knew that the moving around to get here tired her out. It didn't take much to wear her down as of late. I was going to have be very careful. Somehow the logic in my mind ran that each moment I could spare her exerting energy equated to twice as much extra time tapped onto the end. I am pretty sure that is not how it worked but I needed some hope here.

I stared at her peacefully laying back. I was going to miss moments like this. And moments in the car. And in the kitchen. And outside. And everywhere. Any and all moments with her would be sorely missed.

I needed to keep it together. These would prove to be our final weeks together. I would not have any more time with her than that so each hour, each minute was a precious moment of happiness for us. But of course in the back of my mind all I could think about was what I would lose. And the low simmer of being pissed in general and pissed specifically at fate or God or whatever remained too.

I must have had a very sad expression on my face as she had opened her eyes and had reached up and held my cheeks, "Stephen, all will be fine sweetheart." I smiled but inside I was yelling that she was just saying that. That life was fucked up that the admirable sweet and giving woman before me would be taken by sickness when so many others so less deserving walk healthy and free. Fucking unfair.

And she was comforting me. The sick one. She was leading me into hope. Or at least trying. Hope proved to be a rather rare commodity these days.

+++++++++++

I ran into the hospital and practically barreled into the front information desk. "Where is the ICU??!!" I scared the poor older lady volunteer behind the desk. I made a mental note to go back and really apologize later. Maybe. Some time.

The lady regained her composure and tried to appear pleasant. She pointed to the right. "End of the hall, elevators up to the third floor, turn right and follow the signs."

"Thank you and sorry!" I yelled as I ran down the hall.

All of the awful states of being Jess could be in flashed before my eyes. I only knew she was in the ICU, which told me nearly nothing about how she REALLY was.

There are like six elevators here . . How in the hell is it taking so long??? The trip up could have lasted hours or seconds. My mind could only focus on if Jess was OK until my body could be engaged for movement again.

And engaged it was as I stepped off on the third floor and ran through the hallways until I entered the main ICU entrance. A nice looking woman sat behind the desk as if she was waiting specifically for me. I doubt that.

"Can I help you?" I tried to catch my breath as I placed my hands on the countertop. "Jess Foster please?"

She quickly typed on her computer as she spoke. "Sweetie, I can tell you really want to see her so I am hurrying. Don't worry, we will get you back there in just a moment."

Everyone needs random sweetie moments. I needed one then . .Knowing that someone understood the chaotic urgency I felt was a bit comforting.

Seconds later she looked up. "Room 313 . . Now you cannot enter yet but you can await the doctor outside of the room. I will let her know that you are here, ok?" I nodded in appreciation and scooted down the hallway, quickly finding the room. Door closed. Nothing to do.

I felt like a caged wild animal; jittery, restless. I began shaking my hands, pacing, checking the door every three seconds in case it magically opened.

"Hello?"

I turned around to see a woman about my age wearing a very traditional looking white coat. "Hi, I am Stephen Hamilton." I extended my hand only out of habit. I really only wanted to know about Jess.

The woman nodded and shook my hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hamilton. I am Dr. Lydia Simkins." She looked at me a moment. "What is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Foster?"

Well that's a most excellent question, Dr. Simkins, I thought to myself. Friend? Not enough. Lover? You wish. Boy toy? Wouldn't that be awesome . . . Best friend? Probably?

"I am practically family," I kind of mumbled out. She nodded again without smiling. If I wasn't panicking internally and somewhat externally I would totally embrace a personal goal of getting this woman to smile about something.

"Does Ms. Foster have any family?" The doctor's hands were casually clasped behind her back as she regarded me.

I shook my head. "Her mother passed away not too long ago. She does not have a father in her life and no siblings." I was getting more antsy. "Listen Doc, I am happy to answer any and all questions, but can you tell me how she is? And even more importantly, can I see her? Please?" I don't get an opportunity to beg much in my life. This was one of those rare occurrences, and frankly I was very willing.

Then I thought, Jess didn't have anyone else. I was all she had. She had lost so much in your short life and now I was it. The former professor/ apartment/ lecherous older man in her life. That hit me so hard that I almost started my crying again.

So I will be here for her.

Dr. Simkins brought me out of my thoughts. "Yes, you may. I think that would be a very good thing."

She opened the door and stepped in, implying that I should follow. She spoke softly as we entered.

"I am not sure how much you know, but she was hit by another driver as she went through an intersection. The primary injury for her was to her head. We still are not sure of the complete impact but we are very hopeful." The woman still didn't smile, but she had a very gentle way about her. It soothed me. I nodded.

"Is she. . um . .asleep?" Dr. Simkins put her hand on my arm, "Its a little more complicated than that, Mr. Hamilton. Currently Ms. Foster is technically in a coma." She studied me for a split second. "Please know that we are doing everything we can to help her." She nodded her head.

"Thank you." She moved out of my way and ushered me all the way into the room. Behind the mess of tubes and such I could barely see Jess's face peeking out from a bandage wrapped around her head. She had some device in her mouth, presumably to help her breathe, the beeps of monitors keeping time in the background. I just stared at her in shock. I really couldn't move as I processed this. She looked so unbelievably helpless. And so far away.

"She did suffer a fracture to her femur . . upper leg bone . . where the car slammed into the side of her car." The doctor continued from somewhere behind me, "but obviously that's a minor consideration in the scheme of things." I just nodded only partially paying attention. Broken legs heal. Sometimes comas are permanent. At least I thought so.

"Do you know when she might come out of this?" My voice felt rather weak.

"No, Mr. Hamilton, I am afraid I do not. Sometimes people will come out of it quickly. Sometimes it takes longer." She paused for a moment. "Mr. Hamilton, is Ms. Foster a fighter?"

I nodded. "That's an understatement." Somehow I managed a small smile.

"Then I just got quite a bit more hopeful, Mr. Hamilton."

I quickly moved to her bedside. I felt this extreme panic. I think I was hoping for her to be awake, conscious, aware. And she definitely was far far away from that state. I reached out hesitantly and held her hand. She was warm, soft.

Ok, time for me to be strong for Jess. I can suppress panic. I can deal with pain. Let's just say that is rather old school for me. Jess needed me to take care of her and that is exactly what I was going to do. Nothing else mattered.

I scooted the chair closer and continued to hold Jess's hand in mine. If she was even only slightly conscious of the world around her then I wanted her to know that she was not alone.

The doctor must have slipped out quietly at some point. I didn't notice. I was pretty focused.

I heard a woman clearing her throat behind me. I glanced back and a police officer was standing just inside the doorway.

I peeled myself from Jess for a brief moment and walked to the woman. "I am Officer Lerner. You must be the gentleman I spoke with on the phone?"

I nodded and extended my hand again, which she took and firmly shook. "Yes, sorry, I am Stephen Hamilton. Sorry we didn't talk more."

The officer smiled reassuringly, "I completely understand. I honestly only was calling to try to get a loved one here."

I nodded my head. Yup, I am a loved one.

I then frowned to myself. "How did you get my number?"

She smiled and held up Jess's phone to me. All of my unanswered texts and calls were still on the locked preview screen, except where my name should have been it said "Professor Cute Butt" instead. I actually laughed out loud.

She giggled next to me, "now you know why I asked for your name!" She smiled at me, "and I have to admit that was the other reason I wanted to meet you before I slipped away." She winked as she placed the phone in my hand.

She held my hand for a moment, "I am very hopeful that Ms. Foster will be ok."

"Thank you very much."

I took the phone, watched her leave and then slipped next to Jess's bed to resume my status as loved one and practically family for her.

+++++++++++

I poked my head into the living room. Diane was calmly reading her book on the sofa, the comforter wrapped around her legs. She tended to get a little cold sometimes, so I forced her to wear the comforter as much as possible. And drink hot tea or hot chocolate. And let me hold her.

And I made sure she had plenty to eat. She needed her strength, so I constantly acted as conveyer belt bringing snack food into the living room for her. She ate only nibbles here and there.

"Come sit with me, Stephen. Stop fussing over things. Please." She was smiling as she put her book down.

So I sat down next to her on the couch. She reached out and held my hand.

"How are you doing, darling?"

"Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?"

She just smiled at me, "we are both human, Stephen. I have some physical needs right now. You have needs too. And I want to know how you are doing?"

She was doing her emotional connection mumbo jumbo that she does so well. She of course knew I was stressed, and angry. But she needed me to recognize it and deal with it. This was where it was going. I knew what she was trying to do. And as much as I appreciated it I really didn't want to let go of anger and fear yet. I felt a little comfort in having those. Almost like those were things I could control.

She gently rubbed my hand with hers, "tell me what you are feeling Stephen."

"I can't, Diane. I just need. . I want to take care of you. That's all."

She squeezed my hand. "And I want to take care of you too, Stephen." She looked past me for a moment. "That's what we do, right?"

I nodded. Our marriage worked so well because we approach it from servant attitudes. Not being slaves or some nonsense, but rather that each of use was supposed to take care of the other. Among many other things that was our job. So she made a good case that she NEEDED to take care of me, even in her hyper weakened state, even in her final weeks, this was her need. I understood.

"I am scared, Diane." She nodded, waiting. I knew Queen Empathy would not accept that only. So I let it all out. Well most of it.

"I am scared of . . . living without you. I am scared of what comes next. I am scared of these last few weeks. You getting weaker. Me not being able to do a single thing." I felt anger rising. "I am scared that something even worse is going to happen. Why the fuck not right?! When it rains .. . " I looked down and saw that I was squeezing her hand tightly and I immediately loosened my grip. "I am sorry Diane. . are you ok?"

She nodded. There were tears there but she had glued herself together with heaps of bravery.

"Stephen, we cannot stop this, but we can enjoy the time we have left." Now her turn to squeeze my hand, although not nearly as hard.

"I am being selfish. And a dick. I am sorry. I should be focused on you!"

She shook her head. "You have been darling. And I asked because I wanted to know."

She then leaned back and smiled. "I am not finished taking care of you, Stephen . . only for now." She sighed comfortably. "Now its your turn. Would you read to me for awhile?"

Diane always pushed me to deal with things directly, especially my feelings. The more I suppressed the harder things got. And I think she knew this would be one of the biggest tests for me, this awful situation in which we found ourselves thrust.

"It would be my pleasure," I said quietly as I grabbed a hold of her book.

+++++++++++

I placed the flowers carefully on the side table, close to where Jess might be able to smell them. If your eyes are not open then you need to have some other sense tickled, right? She hadn't changed much in the last 12 or so hours since I first arrived. My plan was to essentially stay here until I got kicked out, which did happen late last night. I slept in the waiting room and stood in line like I was at a Taylor Swift concert for when the doors first opened this morning.

I planned on being here as much as possible. Well except when I needed to make vased flower runs. Oh and I had grabbed some magazines. She liked the entertainment stuff so I wanted to make sure she was up-to-date on the latest blah blah blah whatever girls her age needed to know about.

I tended to go this route. Keep busy trying to take care of things so I stayed out of the depths of fear and anxiety. I preferred to stay away from such places. So being Mr. Helpful was the new me. Well he was the old me. So maybe he was the old new old me.

"'Sup dude."

Well that's new. I turned to see a guy in a nurse outfit, blue for ICU, walk in. He had longer light brown hair like a surfer type. He smiled at me.

"I'm Brian. And you aaaaaaaaaaare . . . "

"Stephen Hamilton." I stood kind of taken aback. "Um .. I am friends with . . "

"Yep. With the Jess-ster here. Gotcha dude. No worries. I am her day nurse." He moved around the bed very quickly, seemingly no longer worried about me.

He started checking the machine, nodding. He kind of moved like a whirlwind, reminding me of one of those high strung personal trainer types.

He started talking really loudly. "Jessica, take no offense but I am going to have to check you out. I promise I am not getting fresh girl. You aren't really my type." He smiled and winked at me. "She almost slapped me silly really early this morning. She is feisty!"

I watched as he felt her legs, her feet, her hands. "Gotta keep the juices flowin', man." Apparently that last bit directed at me.

"Oh, I see," I managed a non-committal and totally unhelpful response.

"So how do you know my girl here." His eyes rested calmly on me.

"She is . . . um . . . a good friend?"

"Are you asking me?" He smiled.

"Um. No. Sorry. It's a little complicated."

"Ah. Gotcha dude. Does she knows its complicated?"

"Yeah, pretty sure she does."

"Hmmm. What would she say to you if she woke up right now?"

I thought a moment. I had no idea. Would she be upset at what happened. Would she punch me? Would she even remember me? God what if she had amnesia? Well that would solve a lot of problems on her end but man would that hurt.

I couldn't imagine what she would say. I think honestly there was so much left to say, but I couldn't envision how it would even start.

I just shrugged, "I have no idea."

He just nodded, "sounds complicated." He slipped into whirlwind mode again, moving this, checking that, taking her temperature.

"So you are going to be here much?"

"It will be hard to get rid of me." I managed a surface level smile.

"Ok dude. Works for me. Means I can slack more!" He grinned. "Seriously, I check on her at least once an hour. I check bed dressings and bathe her once a day. I don't know the nature of your .. complication . .but she will need privacy then." I nodded. "Otherwise I think its awesome that you are here. Its always better for them." He nodded to Jess.