Page 96 of Beach Bodies

My throat seizes with tears, and for a moment I’m overwhelmed by the image of Jess and me in wedding gowns. She’d favour something lacy, something with Cinderella vibes. I would have worn something more streamlined, basic, with a single dramatic feature, like a plunging back, or a high slit.

A shuddering sigh vibrates through my bones as I release her hand and pull out the engagement ring, warm in my pocket.

It’s far from the perfect moment now, but I never should have waited for perfection.

‘Will you marry me?’ I whisper.

Only the droning of the machines answers. I’m not expecting a response, obviously. Or a feeling that Jess is here.Nothing like that. It’s simply the question that has been lodged in my throat for five years, choking me.

Then, I take her hand up again and try to work the simple ring with its tiny diamond chip on to her ring finger. It doesn’t fit; her hand is swollen from bad circulation. I put it on her pinky. The fit is loose, but I fold her hand on to her chest so it doesn’t slip off. Her forearms, facing down, hiding the ghost-silver lines. Last time I saw those wounds, they were not yet scars.

‘I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this,’ I say, my hands over hers.

I bow my head, and for a while, sit in the same silence Jessica has been lying in for five years.

I wonder if she senses the passage of time. If she’s feeling claustrophobic, like I often felt in the lifeguard chair, watching and waiting, motionless.

I hear the muffled whine of a siren. Maybe an ambulance. Maybe the police.

I lift my head and stroke my hand through her long, blonde hair.

Time to change the story.

‘I have to let you go, sweetheart. Remember when we were talking about our death plans? I know, it was a terrible first-date question, but you rolled with it…’ I can’t help a smile. ‘You said, donotlet me be a vegetable. And I said, donotbury me in a casket. I had a terror of somehow still being alive and trapped inside, remember?’ I laugh softly, but the laugh ends abruptly as a sob threatens to come out, even though now is not the time for that. ‘This is what you wanted. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I know I’m about to have a lot ofquiet time to think about all my choices. All my mistakes. But… I’m not afraid.’ I bend down and kiss her. Her lips are soft beneath mine. She can’t kiss me back, but I don’t need her to. ‘I love you.’

Strangely, what fills me in this moment is… gratitude. I remember Randy’s words.I’ve been lucky enough to have two great lives. Some people don’t even get one.

I guess I’m lucky.

I had one.

The sirens are louder now. I stand slowly. Take one last picture of Jessica in my mind; the way her hair shines in the light, the way the blue veins on her eyelids look so delicate, the soft empty warmth of the body waiting for release.

I follow the electric cord of her ventilator to the plug in the wall. And then, heaving one last breath into my lungs, I yank. The machine sighs as it powers down, and I return to my chair and hold her hand.

Her breathing stops. Her body stills. There’s a new kind of silence, even deeper than the silence from before. I try to sense something– her spirit leaving her body? Some feeling of release, or freedom? A sign? But there’s nothing.

I keep holding her hand even when I hear the telltale sound of running in the hall outside.

I stay seated as the door bursts open. Two cops explode into the room, and behind them, just outside the door– Daniel. I glance at the wall clock– right on time.

‘Hands above your head! Step away from the patient!’ shouts one of them, reaching for his gun.

I rise and lift my arms.

Maybe spirit-Jessica, if she exists, is also lifting her armsas she ascends into some sort of bliss. I don’t believe it– but I hope it.

The next few minutes are chaos, as nurses and doctors surround Jessica. She’s DNR, so at least I have the assurance that they won’t bring her back.

One of the cops intones my rights as the other turns me around so that I’m facing the door, and Daniel. He’s still standing outside the room, his eyes fixed on me, unwavering.

‘Hands behind your back.’

Why?Daniel sends across the frenzy of the room.

But our eye contact breaks as the handcuffs click into place, cold around my wrists, and the cop grabs me by the arm and shoves me forward, towards the door.

Just outside, I say, ‘Wait,’ because I want to answer Daniel’s question, but the cops don’t wait.

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