The Love of My Afterlife(89)

“Yeah. I wanted to know you were okay.”

“I am,” I say, looking over at Cooper. “Thank you so much for staying with me. But I’m okay now. You should go. Get some sleep.”

Jonah nods, but seems reluctant to go. He scooches his chair closer and picks up my hand. “I…I’m really glad you’re alright,” he says.

I laugh mirthlessly. “I’ve terrified you twice in one week.”

He half smiles. “Yeah. You’re kind of extreme.”

I nod. “Honestly, you can go. I promise not to chase you.”

Jonah takes a deep breath and stands up, stretching his arms upwards so that his shirt rises and I can see the bronze hairs of his lower belly. I think about how I felt when I first met him in Evermore. I mean…I get it. But that spark that tickled me the first time he touched me? It’s fully done a runner.

“Feel better soon, I guess,” Jonah says, hesitating at the door.

“Thanks, Jonah,” I mutter, turning my head so that I’m watching Cooper.

He’ll wake up soon. And I want mine to be the first face he sees.



* * *





The doctor tells me pretty much the same as Jonah did—gnarly broken knee, bruised ribs, general bashed-up body, extremely lucky to be alive at all. When I ask about Cooper and when he will wake up, she grimaces, which I’m pretty sure is not in the manual for how doctors should respond when someone asks when a patient will awaken from a coma. The doctor explains that Cooper’s injuries were very serious. She says words that no-one should ever have to hear in normal life: intercranial pressure, mechanical ventilation, fluid. When I ask her the average amount of time that patients are in comas following an injury like Cooper’s, she replies with an unhelpful, “Every patient is different.”

I can’t leave my bed yet, so I just stare across at him, lit up beneath the harsh ceiling lights. His body is right there. But him? He’s in Evermore. And the thought of anyone being stuck with Merritt would make me worried, but as it turns out, she’s his sister. And they clearly adore each other. So he’s okay. I know that much. But he doesn’t belong there. He belongs in this world. Listening to his Charlie Parker. Drinking delicious wine. Planning fictional heists. Being despicable. Kissing me.

I press the buzzer for the nurse, asking if she’ll help me into a wheelchair so that I can go sit with him.

“Oh…you came in together, right? Is he a loved one?” she asks, glancing down at her notes.

“Yes,” I say, the words coming out of my mouth with absolute certainty. “Yes, he is. He’s a loved one.”

Once I’m at his bedside, I take hold of his hand, marked with the bruise of a failed cannula insertion. I run my thumb over his palm. He looks so calm. So empty.

I look around to make sure there are no medical staff in the near vicinity.

“Merritt,” I hiss angrily. “Merritt, you need to send him back home now.”

I know it will be difficult for her to just wisp into a busy hospital, so I check my phone, waiting hopefully for the sound of “Jump Around” to emerge.

But there is nothing.

I try to reason with her, muttering into the air that I know she’s missed her brother, that I know she is sometimes bored in Evermore, but that she has Eric now. Why does she need Cooper? Cooper belongs here. And why would she do this to her own parents? Put them through this?

Still no response. Apart from the regular beeps and the whooshing sound of the machine that is helping Cooper to breathe, the room is silent. And while Merritt has disappeared on me before, I start to get the sinking feeling that Merritt won’t ever be getting in touch again. I’ve fulfilled the deal I made in Evermore. Jonah literally gave me the kiss of life. It might technically have been emergency mouth-to-mouth, but his lips touched mine of their own free will. The contract is over. I have my life back.

But, as I look down at Cooper’s pale face and slightly clammy forehead, I realise that I’m not ready to know what that life looks like without him.





45





Despite my protestations, I am moved to a less intensive ward, no longer in a private room but surrounded by other patients, some of them groaning in pain, most of them quiet. I’ve given the hospital staff Cooper’s parents’ contact details and they’re on their way. He needs people at his side. I also managed to call Aled, who, to my great relief, stayed with Mr. Yoon last night (albeit passed out drunkenly on his sofa) and reassures me that he will have no shortness of people to pop in and make sure that he’s okay. When he asks after Cooper, I burst into tears.

“He’s…he’s…”

“He’s dead?” Aled screeches. “R. L. Cooper is dead? No!”

“He’s not dead, Aled!” I say sharply. “He’s in a coma. And he’s going to wake up.”

Aled goes quiet on the other end of the line. I can picture his face. The same awkward grimace as the doctor when I asked how long it’d be until Cooper would wake up.

“I hope he does. But perhaps you need to be prepared for…”

With trembling fingers I press end on the call. I don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence.

My knee starts to throb again, the machine at my side starting to beep quickly. My chest feels tight. I can’t breathe.