Without You

The rain was pouring. The news had shaken me out of my wits. My Viola, my dearest viola was in the hospital. How could that be? I regretted instantly my foolhardy decision to go to this erroneous party. I was driving like a lunatic. I had to be there sooner than it’s too late.

The nurse at the hospital had called me, to say Viola D’cruz had met with an accident. She had found my business card in Viola’s purse. My thoughts were in turmoil, where was she going in this downpour? What had happened? Was it me and our last fight? No, I did not want to think of the worst. I was just a few blocks away.

At the hospital, I rushed to the reception. She mentioned the 5^th floor, ICU. I took the steps two at a time, forgetting completely about the elevator. Panting when I had reached the corridor, uncle D’cruz was sitting on the bench, he had his head in his hands. I slowly stood next to him dreading to know about her condition.

“Leslie!” he exclaimed, “my dear boy, Viola…”

Her name came out in a whisper. At that moment my heart cringed, I kneeled down, tears stinging my eyes. I could not find my voice, I was thinking the worst.

“What happened, uncle?” my voice was hoarse.

“She called me late and said she was coming home. The hospital said that the taxi was crushed by a truck on the road. The taxi driver died instantly and our Viola has been injured badly.”

The doctor came out to meet them, “Who is from the family here of the patient?”

“We are.” I blurted wanting to know what it was actually the doctor had to say.

“Please do come in my office, I need to discuss the matter with you.” He said edgily.

Uncle looked helplessly at me, I assured him with my look. “I will come with you.”

I was shaking from inside did it show, I wondered. I sat tersely on the seat. “Well I am her fiancé, doctor please tell me how is she?” I thought I sounded desperate, so be it.

“She is suffering from a diffuse axonal injury.” He said noting I looked blank he continued, “Which is one of the most common and devastating types of traumatic brain injury. In the accident, her head was rapidly accelerated or decelerated and that has caused this injury. The severity of it indicates loss of consciousness that is, she is in a coma right now.”

“What does that mean, doctor, will she be fine?” I asked eagerly.

“Well, I don’t know how long she will be in a coma; we are trying our best with all medications. We have to monitor if the drugs are working or not. Please have patience, Mr. …?

“I am Leslie Fernandez,” I said absently. I continued not satisfied with what was I supposed to do now, “Doctor, what will happen now, what can we do to make it better?”

“Mr. Fernandez I am sure you feel anxious, but we have to just wait for the medications to work. I have seen patients come through a coma, but the problem is that this is quite severe. Those who do wake up, 90% of the times often remain significantly impaired. Let’s hope for the best and…”

“And Doctor??” I asked impatiently.

“Prayers might help, Mr. Fernandez.” He smiled benignly.

I left the room dazed, prayers. I hadn’t been to church for a long time. That was one of the complaints Viola had. I met the uncle and told him what the doctor had to say.

“I am shaken from this son; I don’t want anything to happen to my dearest girl. Go see her, be with her, it might help. I have heard even when unconscious they can hear you. I will go down for a bit.” Saying that the old man left, limping on the way.

I entered the room noiselessly. She was on the bed with all the tubes jutting everywhere. The monitor was beeping in rhythm incessantly. Her head was bandaged and her face had few injuries. She looked frail and life seemed to have fled from her body. I sat down on the stool afraid of touching her. It is so strange I was afraid of touching her, whereas I often held her closely. With some courage, I held her hand in my hands.

“I am sorry baby. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. You are so precious even though I have said hateful things. Please forgive me, come back to me.” I cried softly knowing quite well there is a chance she may not hear at all. I won’t have it; she would have to come back to me. She could not punish me like that. She was wonderfully soft-hearted.

I took my anguish along with me. I could not see her so lifeless. Uncle was sitting out when I came out.

“Where are you going, son?” he asked.

“Uncle, I have to go now. But I will be back. Please call me if anything, anything happens.”

I could not go home. I wandered in the hospital; there was a room that had God of all religions. I sat down in a corner. Thoughts were swirling in my head.

Her smile, her voice, her eyes, her soft touch, her kind words, her nagging, her jolliness, her silliness, her…

I looked at all the God’s. He is one right; I closed my eyes bent on my knees. I didn’t know what to say. I just did.

“I have loved her and I will always love her. I want her to know that. I want her to be with me forever, happy and smiling. Not like this, it can not end like this. Please don’t take her away from me, don’t you see? I need her.”

I sat down remembering the time before her accident.

It was morning and the sun rays hit me hard on the face. I covered my face with my hand as I woke. The bed clock chimed, tick-tock, 12:00 pm, Sunday 20 April.

“Oh damn!” I said, “I am late.”

Viola has asked me to come with her to church. After the sermon, we were going to discuss the date of our marriage with the priest. I looked at my cell phone forty-two missed calls from Viola. I was supposed to pick her up at 8 am for church. I was cursing myself for such callousness.

I had no nerve to call Viola up, what would I say, “Honey, I am sorry I missed our date with the priest.”

My head ached from far too many drinks yesterday. Suddenly someone was pounding my door. With each pounding my headache worsened. Oh God! Do I really have to guess who it was? I had done this third time; she will not forgive me, will she? I hesitated before opening the door. But when I did, it was a treat to sore eyes. Viola my mouth formed without any sound. She was in her best lemon yellow Sunday dress. Her face is shiny and covered with her black curly hair. A small stream of sweat dribbled down her cheek. Her eyes covered with fashionable shades.

She did not say anything just marched inside his room, her heels clicking on my marble floor. I looked at my room through her eyes. Beer bottles were strewn everywhere. Whiskey in glasses and half-eaten pizzas were lying on the floor. The TV was loudly screaming something at both of us. She took the remote and shut it. “Oh my God.” I thought I said, but no it was Viola.

“Leslie” she turned removing her shades. Her eyes were green or grey I could not come to decide yet after four years of knowing her. They were full of fire and questions, and they held so much heat I backed two steps.

“Honey” I stammered, “I can …”

“No, I don’t want any explanations. I am not stupid.” She glared when she thought I was going to say something. “No! don’t utter a word. I am tired, Leslie. You promised you would come this time. You know what I think now. You don’t want to get married to me. You don’t love me anymore.” When I did not say anything, she continued, “You don’t even love God. You have no faith. I am just a mere human being, you can easily forget.”

She always brought God between us. I hated it. It was a sore point. Why did loving her have anything to do with God?

“I detest going to church. I don’t want to listen to anyone who thinks he can make good of me. Who is God? Have you seen him?” I paused, “No I don’t think so. What has all that got to do with whether I love u or want to get married to you?” I yelled.

She looked palled, taking a few breaths she said, “Leslie, we love each other because God has blessed us. He is the one who brought us together. And before him I want us to bind ourselves for eternity. Don’t you want that?” she asked benignly.

That’s it I could not control myself, my anger. We had this discussion many times to wane.

“I don’t want that.” I blurted, “I don’t want anything from you or your God. I did everything possible to bring us together. There was no God; it was your and my desire to be together. And we are. But I am tired I don’t know, whether I want you anymore? Whether we even should be together?” Then I paused in my heightened speech. Like a devil had possessed me I said,

“I don’t know, whether I love you anymore.” I pressed my hands to my temple closing my eyes.

It would have been a few seconds but when I looked up she was stunned. Tears brimmed her eyes, all the fire had died down replaced by melancholy.

“If that’s what you think, I will leave it to God now to decide whether we were made for each other. Goodbye Leslie.”

Not again I thought, yet God gets to decide that for her. I saw her walk swiftly out of my door, and my life.

I don’t know how long I had been kneeling at the altar of all Gods. I didn’t know whether he would listen to me if he existed. But I believed in the power of her love, love of God. I went back up. Uncle was not there, I slowly went back in to see her. She looked angelic and such mystic powers she held. She was my God and I was losing her.

Months had passed since her accident. And as the doctor had said, “Recovery of consciousness is followed by post-traumatic amnesia (PTA), when the person is alert and may be able to converse normally but has lost continuous memory.” I would say it was a miracle or I had started believing in God. She did not remember the whole day of events on the day of the accident.

She sat in the wheelchair, her legs paralyzed after the accident. The doctor said it is curable but may take months or even years for her to be able to walk again. But my Viola was alive and with me, we were together. He had heard my prayer. He is there, is now my belief.