Page 130 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“Sweetie, I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
He turns his head toward my voice. Watching him slowly open and close his eyes is heartbreaking. I can tell he can’t see me standing there. His gaze is unfocused, like he’s looking at something very far away.
I can’t help it; I start to cry. I close my eyes, bow my head, and just let it go, because when he fully comes to I’ll have to be strong enough for both of us. This will be the last time I can allow myself to break down.
From now on, I’m going to have to be the strongest one in the family.
It’s several minutes before I calm myself. I swallow, sniffling, and reach for a tissue from the box on the little table beside A.J.’s bed.
And freeze when I hear a slightly garbled but still understandable, “Drama queen.”
With a cry of shock, I straighten. A.J.’s eyes are closed, but he’s smiling a drowsy, happy smile. He lifts the hand I’m not holding an inch off the bedcovers, and makes a motion with his forefinger. He’s pointing at something across the room. The television? The little dresser?
“What?” I ask breathlessly. “What is it, honey?”
He swallows, running his tongue around his mouth like it’s desert dry. He tries to say something else, but the nurse comes in with the ice chips and I lose whatever it was when she cheerfully greets us.
I snatch the cup of ice from her hand and bark, “He’s talking! Be quiet, he’s talking!”
She raises her brows at me, but doesn’t say another word.
I turn back to A.J. and lean close, desperate to understand what he wants. “A.J. Tell me what you want. What are you pointing at?”
He swallows again. I feed him some ice chips, and he sighs in contentment. Two excruciating minutes pass as he slowly chews on them, sucking the moisture. Then he lifts that finger again and points. “Closet. Jacket.” His voice is weak, the words slurred.
The nurse says, “I think he wants his coat.”
I’m about to argue with her that it makes no sense that he would want his coat, but A.J. slowly nods.
“Please, would you get it?” I ask her. I don’t want to let go of his hand.
The nurse, a slight Filipino lady in pink scrubs with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, rummages through the closet and pulls out the big, zippered plastic bag that holds A.J.’s jacket. Everything was tagged and entered into a personal property log before surgery, which is good, because when they move him out of ICU, they’ll make sure all his stuff gets moved with him. She hands the leather jacket to me. I stand there holding it, unsure of what to do next.
“Okay, honey, I have it. Are you cold? Do you want me to put this over you?”
A.J. smiles. It’s an odd smile, one I don’t think I’ve seen before, both cunning and satisfied. It causes me a moment’s pause, but then he whispers, “Pocket.”
Now I understand; there’s something he wants, and it’s in the pocket of his coat. Relieved, I hold it up and reach inside, feeling around for the inside pocket. There’s nothing in it. I try the right pocket, but there’s nothing in there either. I hope whatever it was he wanted didn’t fall out.
But then I reach into the left pocket. When my fingers close around what’s inside, I fall still.
A.J. moves restlessly in bed, his eyes closed, waiting for me to say something.
I slowly remove my hand from the pocket and look at what I’ve pulled out.
It’s a black velvet ring box.
I drop the coat on the floor.
A.J. makes a “give me” motion. My hand trembling, I set the box in his palm. Slowly, with great effort, he lifts his other hand and cracks open the box.
Staring at the incredibly beautiful origami ring, I sob. Atop a braided circle sits a pair of small, fiery orange birds in flight, the tips of their wings touching. I’ve never seen anything so exquisite, so finely made.
“What are they?”
“Phoenixes.”
I lift my gaze to his. In the faintest, breathy whisper, A.J. says, “Because even though it might burn the whole world to the ground, true love can never die. Marry me, angel.”
