I had been sitting in that uncomfortable chair for so long that my legs were starting to cramp, as if they were begging me to get up. I looked at the clock for the umpteenth time: Brian had already been in the operating room for about four hours. Even though I knew it was a long procedure, I couldn't help but feel uneasy. I looked over at Jackie, Brian's mother, who was also staring at the clock. I guessed she must be thinking the same thing I was. I placed my hand on hers, trying to reassure her. She looked up at me and smiled as she squeezed my hand. Standing next to his wife was Harold, Brian's father, and to my left, sat Brian's older brother Harold Jr.
Just then, the doors at the end of the hallway opened and the surgeon walked toward us. We must have stunned him a bit, because the four of us headed toward him at supersonic speed. He watched us silently for a second before smiling.
"The surgery went well. He's going to be fine."
The knot of distress that had begun to form in my throat came undone and was replaced by pure joy. I hugged my brother-in-law as Harold and Jackie held each other tightly for several seconds.
"We're going to transfer him to the ICU, at least for a few hours until we're absolutely sure everything is okay." The doctor kept explaining, with a smile on his lips. "Right now he'll still be under the effects of the anesthesia, but it shouldn't be long before he wakes up. If you'll follow me, I'll accompany you to see him."
Minutes later, we arrived at the ICU. We were told we were to go in two at a time, so logically Harold and Jackie went in first. They came out ten minutes later, smiling broadly.
"He just woke up." Jackie said with a certain brightness in her eyes. "He's still a little groggy, but he's conscious."
Harold Jr. and I looked at each other smiling before entering the room. I have to say that at first, the sight of Brian lying on the bed, completely still, with a wound scar dividing his chest in two, and with several tubes attached to his body overwhelmed me, but when I moved a little closer to him, and saw his bright blue eyes looking up at me and his lips seemed to want to draw a smile, I sighed in relief and stroked his forehead before leaning forward and kissing it gently.
"Everything went well." I whispered as I caressed his face. "It's all over now."
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After spending a couple of weeks in the hospital, Brian was finally released so he could go home. The first few days were proving to be a bit stressful for both of us. The doctor had been very clear when he said that for the first few weeks he should move carefully and as little as possible. For Brian, who was a ball of energy, this was very complicated. And for me, well, I couldn't help but follow him around all day, making sure everything was ok. To the point that I would wake up in the middle of the night just to check that his heart was beating normally.
The doctor had also recommended that, once he had progressed in his recovery, he should go for walks. So that's what we did, we walked. We were talking about everything as we walked with our hands intertwined. Suddenly, Brian stopped for a moment and grimaced in discomfort.
" Babe, are you okay?" I asked unable to hide the concern in my voice. "Does it hurt?"
He took a deep breath before smiling softly. "Don't worry, it's because of the swelling. The doctor said it was normal."
"I think you've walked enough for today. We should head home." I suggested, rubbing his arms.
As much as he was longing to get back to his active life, he agreed with me and we went back home. He still struggled to climb the stairs, but luckily our height difference was practically nonexistent, so I didn't have too much trouble helping him up. I had eaten just an hour ago, and Brian didn't have much of an appetite (according to the doctor, this was normal), so we went to bed. When I got out of the shower, I found him struggling to get his shirt off, because the swelling in his chest kept making him stop. I slowly approached him and helped him take it off. I could see his scar up close, which was thankfully forming at a rapid rate. I estimated that in a couple of weeks at the most they could take the stitches out of his chest. At that point, he also looked at his scar and sighed. I looked at him. I knew he was frustrated by the whole situation; not being able to do everything he wanted to do, needing help with everything, and most of all, he seemed to be horrified by the scar.
I put one of my arms around his neck and, with extreme gentleness, rested my other hand on his chest. "By the time you realize it, everything will be back to normal, you'll see."
He looked into my eyes for a few seconds before covering my mouth with his. My hands moved to his back as his tongue slipped into my mouth. After making out for several minutes, we went to bed. I turned off the light and covered myself with the comforter. Normally, I usually slept lying on his chest, but since that was impossible at that moment, I took his hand and intertwined his fingers with mine.
"Goodnight Brian." I whispered before closing my eyes.
"Goodnight baby." He mumbled before bringing my hand up to his lips and kissing it a few of times before dropping it back down next to him, not separating his hand from mine.
