Chapter 35

                                    

                                          
As soon as she comes to, less than an hour after we've arrived at the hospital, she's given an anti-seizure medication. I refuse to leave her side as she's given an exam. Her nose isn't broken, thankfully, and her vital signs are good. She looks incredibly tired, confused, and doesn't say much as she's being cleaned and examined.
"Do you have a history of seizures, Mrs. Maddox?"
"No," she says quietly. "I've never had one before. I also don't remember anything before it happened. Is that normal?"
The doctor, who's last name is Hoffman, nods his head slowly. I'd put him at my age, maybe younger, heavier set, with a kind face, and a thick New York accent. 
"It's quite normal not to remember anything right before going into a seizure. We're going to get you in for an CT scan as soon as possible to make sure everything's alright. Any memory problems? Nausea? Trouble walking?"
We stare at one another and I take a deep breath, wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say. The memory question concerns me. I think for a moment about the fact that she seemed to forget telling me that her father had come to see her when I was in Europe, but don't say anything. 
That's just a coincidence, I tell myself.
"I have been rather nauseous for the past month or so. But we've been hoping I could be pregnant. I've had some headaches, but no trouble walking or any memory problems."
The nurse that's by his side is writing all of this down.
"We'll need to get her a pregnancy test," he mutters to the nurse. 
"Do you think everything is alright?"
He smiles at her in that way that only a doctor can smile. When someone knows something could be wrong, but wants to be as polite as possible about it. It will be a comfort to her, but not to me. 
"Only a CT scan will tell us that. It could be something as simple as a small brain lesion, Mrs. Maddox. Some people have also been known to develop epilepsy at random, no matter their age. Let's just get you scheduled for an CT scan so we can not spend time dwelling on hypotheticals."
With that, he leaves the room, along with the nurse. We're alone for the first time since I found her on the floor. It's hard for me to look at her, I find. The blood has been cleaned from her face, but her nose is deeply bruised, shades of red and purple, where she hit the floor. My hands and forearms are covered in dried blood, it's in my nail beds, beneath my nails, staining my skin. 
I take her hand and bring it to my mouth, kiss it, and burst into tears all at once. Sobs rack my body and make me shake and can't stop myself no matter how hard I try. 
"Oh, Benjamin. It's okay."
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't be crying. I just... I was so scared. Seeing you that way... I don't ever want to see you like that again. Fuck."
She squeezes my hand as if to comfort me. After what's just happened she's comforting me. That's unacceptable and ridiculous. I'm the one who's supposed to be comforting her, being strong, because I have no idea what the fuck has happened or what's going to happen.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," she says quietly. "Try not to think the worst, please."
I nod in agreement and she brings her hand to my face. I press my face to it, close my eyes, and kiss her palm. It's so comforting, just the simple touch of her skin putting me at ease. I keep waiting for her to start seizing up again, flashes of the way she looked on the floor playing over repeatedly in my mind. All that blood and her spit and the way she convulsed.