“Go away! Stay away from me!” she screams. She is pushing the gnomes away from her, terrified, now oblivious of my presence.
I stand and cross the room to her bed. I am weak now, my legs ache, and there is a strange pain in my side. I don’t know where it comes from. It is a struggle to press the button to call the nurses, for my fingers are throbbing and seem frozen together, but I finally succeed. They will be here soon now, I know, and I wait for them. While I wait, I stare at my wife.
Ten…
Twenty . . .
Thirty seconds pass, and I continue to stare, my eyes missing nothing, remembering the moments we just shared together. But in all that time she does not look back, and I am haunted by the visions of her struggling with unseen enemies.
I sit by the bedside with an aching back and start to cry as I pick up the notebook. Allie does not notice. I understand, for her mind is gone.
A couple of pages fall to the floor, and I bend over to pick them up. I am tired now, so I sit, alone and apart from my wife. And when the nurses come in they see two people they must comfort. A woman shaking in fear from demons in her mind, and the old man who loves her more deeply than life itself, crying softly in the corner, his face in his hands.
I spend the rest of the evening alone in my room. My door is partially open and I see people walk by, some strangers, some friends, and if I concentrate, I can hear them talking about families, jobs, and visits to parks. Ordinary conversations, nothing more, but I find that I envy them and the ease of their communication. Another deadly sin, I know, but sometimes I can’t help it.
Dr. Barnwell is here, too, speaking with one of the nurses, and I wonder who is ill enough to warrant such a visit at this hour. He works too much, I tell him. Spend the time with your family, I say, they won’t be around forever. But he doesn’t listen to me. He cares for his patients, he says, and must come here when called. He says he has no choice, but this makes him a man torn by contradiction. He wants to be a doctor completely devoted to his patients and a man completely devoted to his family. He cannot be both, for there aren’t enough hours, but he has yet to learn this. I wonder, as his voice fades into the background, which he will choose or whether, sadly, the choice will be made for him.
I sit by the window in an easy chair and I think about today. It was happy and sad, wonderful and heart-wrenching. My conflicting emotions keep me silent for many hours. I did not read to anyone this evening; I could not, for poetic introspection would bring me to tears. In time, the hallways become quiet except for the footfalls of evening soldiers. At eleven o’clock I hear the familiar sounds that for some reason I expected. The footsteps I know so well.
Dr. Barnwell peeks in.
“I noticed your light was on. Do you mind if I come in?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
He comes in and looks around the room before taking a seat a few feet from me.
“I hear,” he says, “you had a good day with Allie.” He smiles. He is intrigued by us and the relationship we have. I do not know if his interest is entirely professional.
“I suppose so.”
He cocks his head at my answer and looks at me. “You okay, Noah? You look a little down.”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“How was Allie today?”
“She was okay. We talked for almost four hours.” “Four hours? Noah, that’s . . . incredible.”
I can only nod. He goes on, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it, or even heard about it. I guess that’s what love is all about. You two were meant for each other. She must love you very much. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” I say, but I can’t say anything more. “What’s really bothering you, Noah? Did Allie say or do something that hurt your feelings?”
“No. She was wonderful, actually. It’s just that right now I feel . . . alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Nobody’s alone.”
“I’m alone,” I say as I look at my watch and think of his family sleeping in a quiet house, the place he should be, “and so are you.”
The next few days passed without significance. Allie was unable to recognize me at any time, and I admit my attention waned now and then, for most of my thoughts were of the day we had just spent. Though the end always comes too soon, there was nothing lost that day, only gained, and I was happy to have received this blessing once again.
By the following week, my life had pretty much returned to normal. Or at least as normal as my life can be. Reading to Allie, reading to others, wandering the halls. Lying awake at night and sitting by my heater in the morning. I find a strange comfort in the predictability of my life.