Is this Appropriate?
My eyes fluttered open, taking in the sunlight glaring from the hospital window. I blinked a few times as my body registered someone else's body weight on mine.
“Mama?” AJ? My gaze finally focused on the curly haired boy beside me.
“Hello sweet boy.” A smile tugged on my lips.
“Mama!” He threw his arms and hugged me, careful to avoid my injured shoulder. “You're awake!”
“That's a big hug there my boy. Where's your Mom? Or Auntie Lizzie?”
“Mom had to buy something. Eliza and Kate went to the bathroom.” I felt dripping liquid on my right shoulder, where he buried his face. “You scared us.”
“I am so sorry, my sweet. It's part of my job.” My hand moved to stroke his hair. “We face the danger so the people we love are safe.”
He looked up at me with Hope's soft blue eyes. Tears rolled down his cheek. “Are you and Mom getting a divorce?”
“AJ!” Kate’s voice started me. When has she entered the room? Kate moved so fast and was about to hit her brother had Eliza not caught and held her back. “Don't say that!” She screamed in a shrill voice.
“Enough!” I coughed. “Don't hit your brother.” I pointed at Kate. “Don't jump to ridiculous conclusions.” I pointed at AJ. “Me and your mom are not getting divorced.”
“Then why are you acting like it?” Eliza voiced an accusatory tone.
“Come here.” I motioned to them. “Your Mom and I are in very demanding jobs. It asks a lot from us. It means that, in certain situations, personal time is non-existent. That doesn't mean we don't love one another. I knew what our life would look like when I married a girl who is in the middle of Med School. She knew what she was in for when she dated someone who is enrolled in a Police Academy. We love one another. It just doesn't look like other couples. Ok?”
I didn't know who I was convincing. Myself or my children.
A camera shutter interrupted our little family bonding. All attention turned to the picture taker. “Mom!” The kids said in unison.
“Got some snacks.” Hope held a plastic bag up, which the kids took before they all went to one corner to eat them. Hope took a few steps towards me, her eyes still on our children. “How are you feeling?” She whispered.
“Like I've been shot.”
Her gaze snapped to focus on me, like I predicted. Dammit, she looks pretty in the red blouse underneath her doctor's coat. “Don't…”
“I'm sorry. I feel better now.”
“Good.” Hope said before her pager went off. “I have to go. Eliza, keep your siblings from killing each other. Call for a nurse if your Mama needs something or if she's stubborn.” With that, Hope left the room to be Dr. Mikaelson again. I need to talk with her.
+++++
By sheer force of will, and the depravity of coffee, I was able to sit up straight a few hours later and be able to walk small distances the next day.
“Don't push yourself.” Said Lizzie, but when have I ever listened to her?
I pushed the door open, using my IV stand as a walking guide. I kept my head low, trying to blend in and find Hope, but the arm sling and cast on my left hand is probably screaming concern to other people. There is a specific balcony that medical staff; mostly interns, use to vent out their frustrations. Hope rarely goes there, but it's worth a shot.
A literal bullet shot. Get it?
Yeah, no, not really a comedian.
Luckily for me, the elevator has direct access to said balcony and not stairs. I pushed the door open with my whole body and a gasp greeted me. “What are you doing here?” Hope tried to wipe her tears before I could see.
“I saw that.” I said as I pushed the IV stand. “And you wouldn't talk to me.”
“So you thought to risk your health just to talk to me?” Hope's tone was both gentle and sharp.
“It's kinda my specialty.” I smiled. Probably shouldn't have.
“Oh. You!” Hope groaned in frustration. Is it bad that I think this is hot? She stomped towards me. She wants to hit me, to slap me. I can see it in her eyes. But she stops and cries and sobs.
“Hey. Hey. I'm right here.” Our foreheads connected. The closest we've ever been in a long time.
“I told you that, if you ended up at my surgical table, I would kill you.” She whispered in between sobs.
“I know. I know.” My thumb wiped her tears like I used to. We stayed there like that in heavy silence. I didn’t want to push any further just for her to push me away.
“We should get back.” She sniffled and pulled away. I remained in place, waiting for her to compose herself before she led me back to my room. Neither of us said a word. Hope held my arm and the IV stand, and that was enough to make my heart explode.
“Josette Olivia Saltzman.” Mom’s voice greeted us when the door opened. “You will give me a heart attack.”
“Mom. Hi.” I smiled.
“Get back in that bed.” Her hands landed on her hips as a stern voice escaped her lips.
“Yes ma’am.” I playfully saluted.
Hope assisted me back to the bed before giving my mom a hug. “I have a few more patients to tend to. Excuse me.”
“Take care dear.” Mom waved as Hope left before turning to me. She had a look that all mothers have that says ‘I know what happened’. “Josie...”
“Mom…” What did Hope tell her?
“Couples disagree. But that is not an excuse to run towards a gunfight.”
“Not my best train of thought. But I couldn’t ignore it, Mom. I swore an oath.”
Mom stroked my hair. “Your Daddy would be so proud of you.”
“You think so?”
“Honey, I know so.”
+++++
The cars, the trees, the buildings all blurred into a haze, partly because of the pain meds, mostly because of my sister's driving. I tuned out Lizzie's medical rambling as she drove us back to our house. Hope will remind me about it anyways.
Hope…
Her smell tattooed itself on my skin, her touch carved a deep pit in my memory. From then, till now. She consumes every bit of my being. My memory can still paint a clear picture of her worried expression like I was back at that ER lying on a gurney again.
“You really are a gay fuck.” Lizzie sighed.
“And you really are a single fuck.” I didn’t need to turn to her to feel her burning gaze.
“Bitch.”
“You love me anyway.”
Lizzie giggled as we arrived at our house. She rushed out of the driver’s side to get the wheelchair from the back. Wait. What is she doing?
“Lizzie, I can walk.”
She pushed the wheelchair to the passenger side’s door before I could do anything. “Just following your wife’s orders.” Lizzie smiled sheepishly. This bitch. She opened the door and patted the wheelchair’s seat.
“Are you afraid of my wife?”
“Are you not?”
“Good point.” I slowly exited the car, careful not to move the sling assisting my left arm. Lizzie began pushing me to my house. A makeshift ramp was seemingly set up on our front steps. “Who-”
“Your wife begged—no, demanded—for it to be put up.” Lizzie gave a small laugh as she opened the door. “She wanted you to heal properly. It’s why the kids are currently with Mom and Dad.”
“Elizabeth Jenna Saltzman.” A voice boomed.
“Son of a bitch!” Lizzie yelped before realizing who just spoke. “I mean—Hey, Hope.”
My wife stood in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “You were supposed to get here an hour ago.”
“I got hungry so I stopped by the Mystic Grill.”
Huh? “When?” I asked.
“You didn’t realize?” Hope looked at me before practically glared at Lizzie.
“Relax.” Lizzie said. “It happened while Josie was daydreaming. Probably about fu-”
“You can go now!” It came out louder than I had intended.
“Okay.” Lizzie sang-song. “Take it easy on her, Hope!” Was all she said before she left our house. Bitch.
The all too familiar silence made its presence known before Hope spoke up. “Are you hungry? I made miso chicken noodle soup. It’s good for you.”
“Sure.” I said as I tried to stand up. “I can get it.”
“Sit down.” Hope said before she disappeared to the kitchen.
I stared at the couch that was barely a few feet from me. Fuck it, I’m sitting there. I stood slowly and quietly dragged my feet to the comfortable couch. Hope came out of the kitchen, a tray at hand, just as I sank in the couch.
“I said sit down.”
“I’m sat.”
Hope sighed as she placed the tray on the coffee table. “I meant on the wheelchair.”
“My legs still work.”
Hope opened her mouth, but quickly closed it and just huffed as she took the bowl of soup and insisted on feeding me. Not that I resisted.
My stomach invited the heavenly warmth of the soup after spending days eating hospital prepared food. Hope had a skill for cooking, she'd definitely be successful in being a chef had she not pursued medicine. She has the attitude to be the next Gordon Ramsay.
“You're staring. What's wrong?” She asked.
“Nothing…” I said she wiped the corner of my mouth. I want to kiss her. Is this appropriate?