Authors: Ray Kingfisher
54
By the time the boat was out of sight of Chicago, and the man who now called himself Jonathan was in another, better world, Maggie lay motionless in a hospital bed. Her father had only been out of the room for the most basic of human necessities.
He listened to the machines beep and click and bleep and flicker, and – in spite of his medical training – felt utterly useless. This was what they used to call ‘too close to think’ syndrome at medical school, where you were too emotionally involved.
And he knew if there was no improvement – if there were no signs of life – that those machines would be switched off within days and those beeps and clicks would stop. He knew it all right, but didn’t discuss it with the staff.
Throughout the night and into the next morning he talked to her, of how his heart had missed a beat when she’d been born, and had done so again many times during her childhood, from when she’d fallen off the swing and landed awkwardly on her back to the time she hadn’t got off the train when he’d been waiting and worrying, not knowing she’d had a heavy night partying and had fallen asleep. He told her about the skip she’d put in his step when he was a younger man, about that mischievous lop-sided grin she had as a child but seemed to lose once she got into her teens, about the times he’d rush home from work just to play ball with her, about the vacations to Europe and… and…
He jolted awake and rubbed his neck. His mind must have drifted off and into sleep.
The first thing he thought to do was check Maggie.
No change.
The next thing he did was check the time.
It was six o’clock in the morning and he had no idea how long he’d been asleep.
Then he started talking all over again about his Maggie.
He got to the part about the lop-sided grin and stopped as he heard a moan.
From Maggie or one of those machines?
He listened but heard nothing.
He opened his mouth to continue but then heard it again.
He stood over her and stroked her forehead.
It was then her eyes started to twitch.
And his started to water.
Then her eyelids slowly raised themselves and she started to mumble, at first like a child trying to learn her first words, then making more sense.
And as his tears rolled onto the sheets, she continued to recover.
Half an hour later, after the doctor had seen her, checked her, and given her a cautious but positive prognosis, she recovered full – if very subdued – consciousness.
She was cheerful, underwent more tests and checks throughout the morning, and was told she would have to stay in for observation for another couple of days.
Towards noon, Maggie looked up to her father. His eyes told the story of his sleepless night.
‘Hey, Dad,’ Maggie said, still drawling her speech. ‘Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?’
‘Because I don’t want to leave you again.’
She lifted a hand up to hold his. ‘Dad, don’t say that. You need some rest.’
She gave his hand a squeeze.
He squeezed back and gave a nod. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Of course.’
‘You won’t get lonely without me?’
‘Look.’ She gave a hint of a lop-side smile. ‘Just go and get some sleep.’
He kissed her and said, ‘Okay.’ Then he stood up and lifted his coat from the hanger. ‘I’ll be back later this afternoon, though. Is there anything I can bring you?’
‘Hell, no. The staff here are fine. They can get me most things.’
‘Good.’
Maggie shifted in her bed to look over. ‘Actually…’
‘What?’
‘There is something you can get me.’
‘Name it, my baby.’
‘Is there a general store nearby?’
‘Sure. You want a magazine or something?’
‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘Bring me a pad of paper and some pens – I think I can feel that novel coming on.’
‘Whatever you want, sweetheart. That’s what I’m here for.’
When her father had gone, Maggie lay back, dropped off to sleep, and started to dream.