Isaac

Isaac faces his demons as Maggie spends time in a coma

Why?  She couldn't be serious?  He’d watched her walk out on their son’s funeral.  Walk away from their life, away from him.  And now she wanted to know why?  Isaac was stunned.  The part of him that always overflowed with such exhausting love for her from the moment they’d met making him ache for her, need for her, felt desolate as he gaped at the disintegrating stranger before him.  There had been so many unspoken accusations that had transpired between them since Ben got sick, and now that he was faced once more with being an adult, or letting his emotions rip, Isaac literally felt paralyzed in his response. 

He'd barely been surviving since Ben's funeral.  It would have been one thing if it had been just his son’s funeral.  That he could have found a way to survive.  But no, Maggie had to go and try to take her own life.  As if to prove her pain was greater than his.  He may as well have buried his wife and his son in the same coffin. 

He was the one who found her.  He’d stepped outside of the church to get some fresh air.  Standing on the stoop watching the snow fall he couldn’t help but think of Maggie.  She had always loved the snow.  He was so mad at her for her outburst.  It was embarrassing being snubbed by your wife in front of family and friends.  Weren’t they supposed to be a united front, facing this tragedy together?  Who was he kidding.  Maggie never did anything with him.  She was a force all of her own.  She always had been.  Just like her mother. 

It was then, as his bitter thoughts raced around his mind a scrap of fabric waving in the snow caught his attention.  He couldn’t breath, the world became dark, panic gave his feet wings.  He didn’t remember how he got to her side, or removing her blanket of snow.  He just remembered how cold she was and how his hands burned.   

Since then it had been like a miniature version of himself had been sitting in some control tower in his mind behind the remote controls, controlling everything.  When he ate and slept.  What emotions he felt, or didn’t feel for that matter.  He’d spent the entire time skating by on autopilot while the real Isaac silently coward behind the shutters of his soul. 

It’s true that every man has a breaking point.  Fortunate or not, Isaac wasn’t there yet.  But he was losing his grip on faith.  Sorrow wrapped around him like ivy tainting the golden threads that used to buoy his soul to God.  With his faith plummeting into darkness the only thing that gave him any hope was a recurring dream.  Since Maggie had been brought to the hospital he’d seen it every time he closed his eyes.

There he was, standing in the hospital room.  Maggie always reminded him of an angel.  He could watch her for hours.  He never did anything other than hold her hand, but the touch always felt like magic.  She looked peaceful with her blond hair feathered out over the pillow and warm blankets pulled up all around her.  As she slept, he could almost ignore all the tubes attached to her body and the sound of the heart monitor beeping in the background.  He was always drawn to the fact that the noise grated on his nerves whenever he was awake.  But here, in this dream, it created a haunting melody.  One he felt they should be dancing to. 

He stepped closer, looking down upon her beautiful face.  It always irked him that she couldn't see how beautiful she really was.  Even in hospital green, swathed in the serenity of a coma, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  Even in dreams though, he couldn't escape the pain.  He knew he was here for a reason.  If his stubborn wife wouldn't listen while he was awake maybe she'd listen to him in his dreams.  Leaning over the bed rails and pressing his lips to her ear he whispered, "Maggie, come back to me." 

With teary eyes he dropped his head as if to pray, but found he couldn't find the words.  He didn't need them.  The sound of his voice had broken her spell.  Her face flooded with life.  Her eye's fluttered open and her lips spread into an angelic smile.  It was as if she'd been waiting her whole life for him to speak her name. 

But it was always just a dream.  No matter how real it felt.  Until now.

"Why?!"  She screamed again.  The sound laced with even more pain than the first time she spoke.  As distraught as he'd seen his wife in the past, nothing compared to this moment.  Nothing could have prepared him for this.  Seconds out of a coma and she was coming unhinged.  And he knew he was to blame.  Isaac wished God had killed him instead.  Maybe then one of them wouldn't hurt so much.

Isaac's paper coffee cup dropped to the reading table like a brick.  It bounced off the edge, milky brown liquid splashing all over the black and white tiles that made up the hospital floor.  He slipped through the mess as he rushed to her side as if he were skating on wet ice.  As he reached her side he scooped up her hand savoring the warmth of her flesh and begged her to tell him, "Why, what?"

But her hand quickly became cold.  The heat he felt between them had simply been stolen from the heated blankets.  As his eyes searched her face words failed her.  But, she didn't need words to make it clear, she didn't want Isaac touching her.  Slowly she retracted her hand from his as if he were hot embers.  The look of hatred harbored in her eyes tore a hole in his chest making his heart burn.

Throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender he spoke as if he was pleading with a wounded animal, "Its okay Maggie.  It's me Honey."  Since she didn't react he took a tentative step towards her.  But that wasn't a smart move.  She began screaming wildly at the stop of her lungs thrashing in her bed as if trying to climb an imaginary ladder.  He stood still.  Amazed the bed didn't break.  And wondering where this ladder she thought she was climbing was going.  Before anything had a chance to make sense a throng of nurses and staff burst into the room.  They held her down like an enemy combatant as she kicked and screamed.  Her eyes filled with mutiny met his as the needle sunk into her delicate freezer burned skin sedating her. 

Splintered fingers like sharp shards of ice grew rapidly under the surface of his skin.  The icy burn instantly turned his heart into a frozen wasteland capable of feeling nothing.  He watched as Maggie slipped away from him, again.  A horrible nagging sensation gnawed at his core pleading with him to accept that she might already be gone.  But in his current state of numbness he didn’t care.

#

Using a fat thumb and long middle and index fingers from his left hand Isaac gingerly rubbed his temples.  Pacing the long, empty corridors of the hospital ward his head pounded in angry protest as if Maggie's rage had split it open with an ax.  There was no way to deny that there had been warning signs.  For days, he could do nothing but watch as she slipped further and further away from him.  With each marker of time in between Ben's death and the funeral it became painfully obvious that he was losing her.  The darkness she had loved so much when Alma died called to her once more, and she had retreated into it as if it were a comfortable dark shell.  Safe from the world, free from God, and far from him.  But Isaac never imagined her grief would inspire her to be so stupid.   Attempting to take her own life, this was low, even by Maggie’s standards.  God this was all his fault, if he'd just reached out to her.  If he'd only had the capacity to put aside his own grief for one minute - and help her - instead of watching her descend into Hell.  But damn it!  It wasn't supposed to be like this.  Ben should be here!  Maggie should be okay!  If anyone should be hurting, punished or exiled it should be him!  They were innocent.  No one knew what he’d done.

The anger within him erupted.  Violently twisting towards the side he drove his fist, with all his fury, into the beige painted dry wall.  His right hand was met with a satisfying crunch, promptly followed by the cracking of bone and hot searing pain.  The pain radiated up his arm as he withdrew his dust covered hand from the wall.  Blood dripped to the floor.  Shards of bone stuck awkwardly through freshly broken skin.  The only thing he noticed was the pain and he welcomed it.  It was a beautiful distraction from all the death and destruction that surrounded him.  Not to mention all the things he’d done.

Security rushed to the scene.  After sharing a look that said, “Yeah, I’ve been there.”  A tall, burly guard ushered him into a hospital room for care.  The internal rhythm of this room was so quiet compared to Maggie’s, even though this room held more people.  It was odd, but peaceful.  Despite his pain Isaac felt himself relax a little for the first time in days.

A red haired nurse was prepping his hand for its temporary cast. While she worked the nurse attempted to make idle conversation.  He noted this was another difference between this room and Maggie’s.  He figured it was because in Maggie’s room they knew the coma patients probably weren’t going to talk back, so why bother.  "Must have been some spider."

His thoughts had been elsewhere.  "I'm sorry?"

"Oh.  The wall.  Must have been some spider you were trying to smash.  I sure hope you got him."  A very wry smile spread across her face.  It was obvious she had finesse when it came to diffusing hostile patients.

He couldn't help but notice how attractive she was.  Her red hair fell like a wave a fire down her back, and she had piercing blue eyes.  But it was something about her smile, tight lipped but genuine.  "Yeah.  Some spider.  Probably of the demon variety."

"In that case I hear Mace or Holy Water works way better than Kung Fu punches."  She said it with such a straight face that if you didn’t share her wry humor you’d never get the joke.  "What on earth could posses you to punch a wall so hard that you would break your own hand?"

"Does it matter?"  Isaac found he was embarrassed and didn’t want to look at the pretty nurse as he spoke.

She pursed her lips contemplating how far she should push the issue.  "It might matter to security."

Right.  He'd almost forgotten about them.  "It’s like this.  I'm not about to dive into my sob story with a stranger; as beautiful as you may be.  Suffice it to say, things got out of hand.  No pun intended.  I will gladly pay for the damages I've caused to hospital property and I promise that there will not be any more incidents while I am here."

"And why is a handsome guy like you loafing around this stuffy old place?"  She was clearly hoping that he was here waiting for Grandma to come out of day surgery or something like that. 

 

Isaac could barely speak the words without feeling suffocated by hate, "I’m here for my wife."

#

His right hand was heavy in its temporary cage.  And his bones ached.  The doctor had said once the swelling went down he'd be scheduled for surgery to fix the mangled mess he'd made.  Isaac was just glad he'd hurt himself instead of Maggie.  As angry as he was with her he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt her. 

When Ben died he'd shown her his typical lenience.  If he asked her for anything she claimed that she couldn't get out of bed.  Her heart was simply too broken.  She couldn't even help with Ben's funeral arrangements because it made her too sad.  She'd looked absolutely pathetic strung out on grief like some junkie.  Day in and day out just lying in bed, eye's half closed, borderline catatonic.  He kept thinking that if she got some sleep it might make her feel better.  So he let her rest.  If he hadn't encouraged her seclusion maybe she would have been strong enough to fight her demons. 

What she failed to see was that while she wallowed in her fat vat of pain he was left to pick up the pieces.  It hardly seemed fair.  With the current state of things their marriage was inside out and upside down.  Life felt coated in a thick layer of wrong.  Planning Ben's funeral had taken more than just getting out of bed, it had taken gumption.  Frankly, there was a part of him that was glad that Maggie had stayed in bed.  He wasn't sure her fragile psyche could have handled the things he had seen.  Even he'd been completely unprepared for the stifling finality he suffered through at the funeral home.  The salesman walked him through the showroom.  There were rows and rows of empty coffins.  He listened to the pros and cons of how each one could help preserve the body as it decays in the earth.  But everything the man showed him had been made for adults.  Isaac finally had to ask, "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt your obviously well rehearsed sales pitch.  But, my son was fifteen days old.  I don't think he needs a coffin big enough for a six foot tall man.  Do you have anything smaller?"

The man's face reddened for an instant.  "I do apologize sir.  I can only imagine your grief.  It is truly my error.  When you said 'son,' I assumed he was older.  Please forgive me.  Right this way."  The man walked to the back of the room and opened a pair of French doors.  Within them were two rows of miniature caskets.  In a much softer tone the salesman said, "These are our selections for the younger souls that have passed on.  Same guarantees apply to our products.  I don't think I'm really needed here.  Please take your time choosing the right one.  Just holler when you're ready.  And sir?  My condolences."  With that he swept from the room quick as a vampire.

Nothing says your son is truly dead like picking out the box he's going to take an eternal dirt nap in.  Maggie would have never survived.  He barely did.  

Isaac had endured the bright and chipper flower shop on Main.  Maggie's friend Cindy insisted that they were the best in town.  From the second he walked through the door the place felt garishly happy compared to the sadness welling inside of him.  He actually had to leave his sunglasses on because the happiness made tears leak from his eyes and he didn't want the ladies working the counter to see him cry.  He didn't have the slightest clue about flowers.  Flowers were flowers right?  The women tried to laugh at his lack of knowledge and help by holding dozens of possible flower arrangements in front of him.  Overwhelmed, he finally waived them all away.  In an almost monotone voice he’d said, "Just go with red roses and babies breathe with a little bit of greens.  There are red roses on his casket.  I think that'll look nice."  He at least knew what those flowers were.  “And, those are my wife's favorite.”  As he left the store he noticed that the ladies behind the counter were crying.  His sunglasses hadn't fooled anyone.

And then, there'd been his sessions with the minister.  There were too many words and never enough when preparing for a funeral service.  He still wanted to know, how could God possibly ask him to let go of the miracle that had breathed life into his soul?  No one seemed to be able to give him an answer.  Least of all God.  That's what bothered him most.  In his time of need his savior was no where to be found.  Maybe Maggie was right, he was crazy. 

What he wouldn't have given to stop time and grieve with his wife; to share her pain, instead of them each harboring their own.  Ben had been his world.  Everything he'd prayed for, hoped for, and lived for.  When Ben became sick a part of Isaac couldn't help but wonder if it might be God's punishment for Maggie's lack of faith.  But he knew better than that.  God wasn't spiteful, at least not a God he believed in.  Spite was his own flawed human emotion.  Isaac knew if he was honest with himself, he was the one who was mad at Maggie.  He didn't mind being the one to always rescue her.  That was one of the qualities he actually liked about her - that she let him rescue her.  But it was the fact that she seemed to always take from him and never give.  Ben had been the only one he'd ever seen her be selfless with.  Now that Ben was gone Isaac was afraid that Maggie would never be the same.

All Material Copyrighted by Kristin Lee May 4, 2013

Author's Note

Text was writen in Scrivener - Underline indicates Italics.

Any reviews appreciated! Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Raven Cedrone]

"He watched as Maggie slip away from him, again." 'slip' needs to be 'slipped' in this sentence since you used the past tense of watch.

"A horrible nagging sensation gnawed at his core pleading with him to accept that she might already gone." You need the word 'be' before 'gone'.

"God this was all his fault, if he'd just reached out her." You need the word 'to' before 'her'.

"He figured it was because in Maggie’s room they knew the coma patient’s probably weren’t going to talk back, so why bother." You don't need the apostrophe 's' in patients.

I love your descriptions, such as... describing the spilled coffee and Isaac slipping on it, like skating on ice. I love the creativity with that.
I was glad you wrote a chapter on Isaac's perspective, giving us readers a look into both of your characters minds. Especially after losing their miracle child. I look forward to reading more when you get it posted, because I am truly hooked!

~Raven

[Kristin Lee]

Thank you! And thank you for the critical eye. I admit, I tend to rely heavily on spell check...and I shouldn't because let's face it, someone should be checking up on spell check! And it doesn't catch the little things like dropped words. I will go back and make those additions because you are 100% correct. Thank you my friend :)

[Raven Cedrone]

You are very welcome. I agree spell check is not very reliable, picking out major spelling mistakes, but that's pretty much it. I am glad I could be a critical eye for you... sometimes we just need others eyes to spot the things we missed. I look forward to more of the story!

[Claire Twinn]

This chapter is deep with emotion and compassion. Good work!

[Jack...]

Ok, I'm still hooked. Keep it coming my friend.