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  • Writer's picturejodi

Part Four of Seven


My mind is swimming as the surgeon explains the procedure to me. I do not fully understand him, but I do know all that he is saying should make sense. I am not medically inclined in the least; but I do understand that Will has internal bleeding caused by the trauma of the accident. But where internally I don’t exactly know. I hear him clearly as he tells me Will is lucky to be alive. How is his man so put together and articulate in the middle of the night? I sit hunched in my chair, looking up to him like a lost child, nodding my head when spoken to. I can barely put two words together, I feel like a bag of bones, deflated, empty. I wonder if the doctor can sense that I am the true cause of the accident, that my husband was probably frantic driving around looking for me. I wonder if he can feel the darkness of my guilt, if he scoffs at my remorse. I wonder if he can see it in my eyes when I think of Charlie. Shit, Charlie! He must be worried sick about me, about us. I did not take a moment before now to even realize that I have not spoken with him since I left. He must think I have changed my mind about us, he did give me an ultimatum after all. God why did he have to do that? We had such a good night, as we always do. I warm just thinking of our passion and what he does to my body, how can I ever live without that? Damn it, how can I make any move now? My heart and my head are so torn. Charlie is the other half to my whole. I have never experienced anything like him… But I know I am awful for letting myself fall for him when I have Will.

“William’s condition is critical Mrs. Noble; his bleeding has been extensive causing his blood pressure to drop dangerously low. I am sorry but there is a chance that he might not make it through the surgery”, the words shake me from my vacant stare.

“Will, he likes to be called Will” is the whisper that finally escapes me as the surgeon walks away.

Instinctively, I glance at my phone the moment the doors of the Operating Suite close; six missed calls and eleven text messages. Charlie is as addicted to me as I have been with him. I do not listen to the voicemail. I do not read the messages. Somehow it seems more wrong now than it ever did before. The drive to read his words and hear his voice has suddenly deflated. I know I need to let him go and he needs to learn to let me go. I know it is the right choice but is it what I really want? I have been asking myself the same question for months. The line between our wants and needs is often grey, and those lines do not always align with what is right. The lines often blur.

To be continued...

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