The Other Woman

By Sammi D Rothschild

I felt my skin go cold as the miraculous news spread through the hospital. The coma patient had regained consciousness. I had to sit down, so I didn’t pass out. I toyed with the silver angel pendant that Francis had given me and took deep breaths to fight back the tears. It was all over now. 

They say that coma patients can sometimes hear what is happening around them. I thought about the late nights we spent together, whispering in the dark as the machines beeped rhythmically in the background. I wondered how much she heard. I wondered how much she remembered.

Another nurse rushed past me but stopped. “Luisa? What are you doing on the floor?” She reached out a hand to help me up, and I recognized my old friend Susan. “I just heard about Sleeping Beauty. It’s so wonderful! You must be thrilled!”

She mistook my tears and stunned silence as happiness, so I attempted to smile back at her. It was no surprise she thought I would be happy. I had made such a big fuss about my plans to wake up the coma patient. But it wasn’t supposed to work. She never should have woken up. 

“I know you’re too humble to take credit, but the rest of us know what you’ve done to accomplish this, and I know Dr. Romero will certainly share the recognition. You should feel proud!” Susan beamed at me.

I nodded and smiled through the tears again. It had all been an elaborate ploy so that I could spend more time in that room. So that I could bask in his fragile hope and pretend to be his savior. So that I could spend my evenings getting closer to Francis.

“Well, you should head over there and enjoy the fruits of your labor! I’m walking in that direction if you want to walk together?” 

“Okay,” I said. I didn’t have a good reason to say no. I couldn’t explain to her how devastated I felt. She would never understand. I allowed my body to be pulled alongside her like a piece of debris in a current.

Other nurses and doctors congratulated me on my accomplishment. Their smiles and praise just seemed to shine a spotlight on my shame as we floated through the halls towards the thing I dreaded most.

I thought about the first time I had seen Francis. He had looked like a miserable specter. When he looked at me with those amber eyes, begging for comfort, I couldn’t resist. I promised him I would find a way to fix it. The hope in his smile had made my heart skip a beat.

“Do you know if Francis…ahem…Mr. Olivier has been contacted, yet?” I asked Susan.

“I’m not sure. It would be great if they let you tell him, though, wouldn’t it?”

I thought about the early days we spent together, scouring old research papers, searching for a solution. I knew our efforts were in vain, but when I found the paper on electro therapy, he had been so overjoyed that he embraced me. His strong arms had made me feel like a teenager again. I told myself that this crush was silly, and that a young, handsome man like him could never be interested in an old maid like me. It didn’t quell my desire.

I had known it would be a longshot when I brought the paper to Dr. Romero, but she shocked me by agreeing to try it. I never believed that it would work. And it hadn’t. Weeks of trials turned into months, which turned into over a year. The longer we tried, the more convinced I was that the therapy wouldn’t take. But that was okay, because every night, when I hooked up the probes to Sleeping Beauty’s pretty head, I got to spend two hours alone with Francis. 

Susan stopped at Room 602, “This is my stop! We need to get together after our shift tonight to celebrate!” 

I smiled at her through the numbness, “Sounds good.”

Room 612 was my final destination. I was certain that Dr. Romero was already in there waiting for me. I straightened my scrubs and willed my feet to continue. 

At first, Francis and I had talked about mundane topics, but as time went by, we ventured into more personal waters. I found myself putting on more make-up and fixing my hair before our evening ritual. He acted like he didn’t notice. After 6 months, he gave me the silver necklace. He said it was because I had been like an angel, and he appreciated everything I had done for him. He didn’t want to give up on the therapy, but he understood it was unlikely Sleeping Beauty would ever wake up. 

Every night before he left, he would thank me and hold me in a tight embrace. It was the highlight of my day.

One shameful evening, he asked me about my love life. I told him I was alone and always had been. I remember how hot my skin had gotten, but when I looked up, he had smiled and said, “That’s a shame.” 

On his way out that night, he had embraced me once again, but he followed it with a quick peck on my cheek, soft as a baby’s breath, before he thanked me. The ritual continued for 6 months more, and I was in love with him. I kept telling myself that I was deluded, but that gentle kiss every night gave me hope. Until today.

I could hear the commotion before I made it to the room. There was laughing, crying, and general happy chatter. As I stepped through the door, my eyes were immediately drawn to the ecstatic expression on Francis’ face as he beamed over the groggy Sleeping Beauty. As I took in the cheerful scene, I realized with a stab of disappointment that he had never looked that happy with me before. He leapt to his feet when he saw me and dashed across the room.

“This is her!” He exclaimed, “This is the angel that made it possible for you to come back to me!”

Francis embraced me tightly, one last time, “Thank you,” he kissed me gently on the cheek and stepped back, “Thank you for bringing my wife back to me.”

I choked back tears, smiled, and said, “It was my pleasure.”