I got a job three years ago at a hospital. I work as a nurse – usually during night shifts. I was typically assigned to take care of this woman who was in a coma. Around the time I started working she came in. The doctors said she had been in a car accident. At first, her family came every day, praying and crying at her bed. Then, only on the weekends. The flowers and balloons stopped being brought to her room. Three years is a long time to hold onto hope for someone. But I never lost hope. Every night I sat by her bed and I held her hand. I was there for her.
Of course my only job was to check her vitals, but there was something about her. Maybe it was the way her long blonde hair fell over the sides of the bed. Maybe it was the way her long black eyelashes seemed to be so mysterious as to the color of her eyes. I knew that this woman didn’t deserve what happened to her, so I did more than just be a nurse for her. I stayed after every one of my shifts to talk to her, I told her about my day- but only ever the good parts. She had had enough bad in her life already. I painted her nails once a month, her family said her favorite color was blue. I would rotate between light blue, navy blue, bright blue, hoping one day when she woke up she would love it.
People always thought I put in too much effort for this one patient, but I didn’t see her as a patient anymore. This woman was the one for me, and nobody else could ever understand. When her mother came to visit for the first time in a year, I yelled at her. I was the only person that cared about her anymore. Her mother started crying, saying how her family is going broke because of all the medical bills. I knew right then that I would pay it all myself, but I told her family to stay away from her. They weren’t here before for her, they don’t deserve to be here now.
Since her family was gone, I was the only one left to care for her. I told the hospital I would take her home with me, they agreed since I was so qualified to do so. I didn’t have enough time to see her anymore. I worked night shifts and in the daytime I’d be too tired to talk to her. This is when I made the decision to quit. Taking care of my dearest love was too important to me.
I fell in love with her. She meant the world to me, and I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I brushed her silky blonde hair every morning and I learned how to braid for her. I dressed her in the most luxury outfits instead of those raggedy hospital gowns. I bought her gifts for when she woke up. I may have spent all my money on taking care of her, but it didn’t matter to me, money comes and goes, but love is forever. We spent the next two years like this, holidays together, anniversaries, every candlelit dinner as well. She was my world and I would wait years for her to finally open her eyes. Until one day she did.
Five years, one hundred and thirty seven days after her accident, she woke up. Her eyes opened, she was struggling to breathe through the breathing tube, but I was there. Nobody else was. After I assisted her, she looked confused. She tried to speak but kept coughing, so I ran to get her a glass of water. Her arms were too weak to drink it, I tried to help her but she yelled. I was confused why she would do that, after all this time she was scared of me? I told her I was her nurse, and her lover. I told her I was here to help. I said that I was the only one that was there for her and her family was gone.
She started crying, she was trying to speak again. She said something that I couldn’t really understand but it was about her being scared and not knowing who I was. I explained it multiple times with her and I was getting mad. I got so mad that I threw the glass of water, Why couldn’t she remember! She told me that she wanted to see her mom, and I said that wasn’t possible. I made a deal with them, so instead I showed her all her new clothes and gifts. That’s the moment when I realized her eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen. I asked her if I could kiss her, she shook her head no and said that she doesn’t know me. I tried to profess my love to her after that but she didn’t understand. She was just like everyone else. Ungrateful for my love. I tried to be patient, I waited for months to try helping her with rehab so she could start to walk. Telling her a new story about us everyday.
She became much stronger, she was about to walk from one side of the room to the other. I was proud of her, she even said thank you to me when I complimented her. This went on for a while. Until one day, I don’t know how it happened, but I heard the door slam shut. I checked to see what it was and noticed she wasn’t on the couch like usual. I went outside and saw her taking off. I yelled after her, but she didn’t turn around. So I ran, I ran after the love of my life. It didn’t matter, someone had called the police. She never loved me. And I will never understand why.