In His Arms

Had you suggested five years ago that this day would ever come, you would have been met with a hollow stare from eyes too dry to cry, an exhalation of disbelief from a mouth too shocked to speak, and a silent scream of agony from a heart too crushed to feel.

I would've rather been the proverbial bride left at the altar, the groom running away for whatever reason...I could have dealt with the anger and embarrassment, gone on with life, hoping for a bright future.  But this?  I plunged from the towering pinnacle of happiness into the ravaging abysmal depths of despondency and grief.  Could a soul survive such turmoil and come through unscathed? 

I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong when both sets of parents marched into the bridal chamber before the rehearsal was to begin.  Their faces were blanched pale with shock and fear; their eyes rimmed red and swollen.  With a silent nod they sent the bridesmaids scurrying as my heart absorbed the horror of their countenances.

"There is no easy way," Paul's father, Henry began as my hands were taken, one by each mother, and I was drawn down into the sofa. 

In what seemed exaggeratedly slow movements, my father positioned an overstuffed armchair for each of them.  Once seated, Henry continued.

"Pray a postponement is all we need," he managed before his voice splintered and cracked.  His hands trembled as he reached out to me. 

I slipped my hand from his wife's grasp and extended it to him.  "Tell me," I choked, tears burning like acid in my eyes.  "Tell me what happened."  I closed my eyes and braced for the blow, sending the first acrid tear spilling over a dam of carefully mascara'd lashes.

Henry began to describe the accident involving Paul and his best friend, Giovanni.  I remember opening my mouth to scream but I never heard the sound.  I awoke in the back of my parents' car, one sobbing mom on either side of me, the dads staring straight ahead as the car hurtled down the expressway.  I opened my eyes long enough to realize the whole horrible scene hadn't been a sickening nightmare and closed them again until Dad pulled under the canopy, tossed the key to a valet, and dragged me from the backseat.

A nurse met us at the door.  "Paul Marionetti's family?"  A quick nod and she swept through the lobby toward a waiting elevator.

I spent what should have been my wedding day pacing the surgical waiting area, praying for news of my fiancé's condition and that of his best friend.  The week that was to be a glorious romantic honeymoon cruise in Alaska was instead spent clinging to hope as the machines chimed and the respirator expanded and deflated Paul's lungs in rhythmic succession.

Unlike Giovanni, Paul's injuries were mostly internal, including severe head trauma and a punctured lung.  His broken bones had been set, his wounds sutured and dressed, but his brain might never recover.

Seasons changed and the last glimmers of hope slowly waned.  Life became a drudgery of hospital visits, beeping machines, and doctor's updates.  "You should move on from this sorrow and find new joy in your life," Paul's mother urged on the one-year anniversary.  "Paul's breathing without aid but his chance of recovery diminishes every day he remains unconscious."  She paused and nodded for her husband to continue.

"Patsy and I are considering that it may be time to let Paul go.  We can't hold out false hopes forever; it's too painful to keep coming, seeing him like this."

I looked at them sadly, not knowing what to say.  A part of me knew they were right, but Paul would want to live.  "If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater," I quoted from a greeting card I'd seen earlier.  Patsy tried unsuccessfully to hold back a deluge of tears.  I held her until her sobs subsided and she gathered her coat to leave.

"We'll talk more in the morning," Henry said, kissing my cheek as they left.

Groggy from grief, I studied the form beneath the sheet.  I'd watched Paul's tan muscular arms pale and shrink with atrophy; those arms that were to embrace me as we whirled around the floor in our first dance; those arms that were to usher me on my way after tearful good-byes to family and friends as we left for our honeymoon; those arms that were to whisk me off my feet and carry me lovingly across the threshold into our new life together.

"Oh, that you could have held me one last time in those arms," I wept. 

As I bent to kiss his forehead, a tear fell on his closed eyelid and trickled along the lash line to the outer corner, where it paused for a moment, sparkling in the overhead light before rolling across his temple to his hairline.  "I will hold you forever," a soft whisper comforted.

I froze in disbelief.  As I watched, Paul's eyelids fluttered open, then squinted against the bright light.  My hand found the bedside control and quickly dimmed the florescence that filled the room.  "I will hold you forever," he repeated.

Frantic fingers fumbled with the controller, searching for the call button to alert the nurses.  "May I help you?" crackled the curt response from the intercom. 

"Call the lobby and stop Paul's parents!" I demanded.  "Please," I added, realizing my rudeness.  "Then please call the doctors and come in to see Paul...he's awake!"

Paul's recovery was slow and painful, but now, as he holds me in his arms and spins me across the floor, I know everything was worth it.  Today, with Giovanni as best man, Paul and I were finally married.


1000 words

Written for the "Invalid Item"  contest, January 21, 2008:  In 24 hours, write a story of 1000 words or less or a poem of 50 lines or less using this quotation as a prompt:  "If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater."

NOTE:  I have received some pretty poor reviews on this story lately, so before you write and tell me "it's too cliche'" or "the story would have meant more if Paul died", I ask you to keep one thing in mind:  even though it was written for a contest using the quotation given, it is based on a true story, and I don't think that "Paul", his parents, or his wife would have changed the outcome, as cliche' as that may make the story sound!