Chapter 84 Twitched Finger
Michael POV
The commotion at the door pulled my attention away from Sarah's still form. Through the crack in the door, I could see David and Christopher blocking Natalie's path, their voices heated. Without hesitation, I stood and closed the door firmly, sending a clear message: Whatever drama was unfolding outside could stay there.
Settling back into the chair, I reached for Sarah's hand again. "Sarah, honey, I know you can hear me," I whispered, my voice hoarse from days of exhaustion. "The doctors say talking to you might help, so I'm going to keep talking until you're sick of my voice and wake up just to tell me to shut up."
I traced gentle circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. "Elena is covering your responsibilities, and from what I hear, she's been singing your praises to anyone who'll listen." I just kept talking like that.
Evening arrived with the soft shuffle of familiar footsteps. Mother and Linda entered carrying a large covered dish.
"Michael, sweetheart," Mother said softly, setting down what I recognized as her famous tuna casserole. "When was the last time you ate something substantial?"
I couldn't remember. Time had become meaningless in this sterile room. "I'm fine, Mom."
"You're not fine," Linda interjected with the firmness of someone who'd raised a stubborn daughter. "Look at yourself. You haven't shaved, you've been wearing the same clothes, and you look like you haven't slept in a week."
Mother nodded in agreement, unpacking plates and utensils. "Eat something, Michael. Even if Sarah woke up right now, she wouldn't recognize this ragged man sitting beside her bed."
"She will wake up, won't she?" The words came out more desperate than I intended, revealing the cracks in my carefully maintained composure.
Mother's hands stilled on the casserole dish. "I believe with all my heart that Sarah will wake up. She's stronger than any of us give her credit for."
Linda placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "And when she does wake up, she'll want to see her husband taking care of himself, not a shadow of the man she married."
They both began their familiar chorus of suggestions: go home, shower, sleep in a real bed, let them take the night shift. After Sarah wakes up and sees you looking like this, she'll be more worried about you than her own recovery.
The casserole was delicious, though I could barely taste it. Every bite felt mechanical, fuel for a body I'd been neglecting. But the concern in both women's eyes made me finish the entire serving.
"Alright," I conceded. "One shower, a change of clothes, and I'm coming back."
Christopher drove me back to Skyline Heights. The moment I settled into the passenger seat, exhaustion overtook me, and I fell asleep before we even left the hospital parking lot.
I woke to pale dawn light filtering through the car windows and Christopher still in the driver's seat, wide awake and scrolling through his phone.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said without looking up. "We've been here for about six hours. Want to go upstairs and get some real sleep?"
"Six hours?" I stretched, feeling marginally more human. "Chris, you should have woken me up."
"You needed it." He gestured toward the apartment building. "Come on, I'll wait while you sleep. No rush."
"Actually, I feel better already." It was mostly true. "Just need a quick shower and we can head back. Sarah might wake up soon, and I want to be there when she does."
The apartment felt strange after days in the hospital. I headed to the balcony first, where Sarah's carefully tended plants were showing signs of neglect. The lavender looked droopy, and several rose petals had fallen. As I watered each pot, I could almost hear her voice giving me detailed instructions about proper plant care. Inside, I cleared out milk that had gone sour and grabbed a few changes of clothes.
The elevator ride down was interrupted by an unexpected sight in the lobby. A small figure was curled up against the wall near the mailboxes, fast asleep.
"Lily?"
The little girl was wearing the outfit I'd bought her last time, though it looked slightly worn now. Her tiny backpack was clutched protectively against her chest.
I knelt down and gently shook her shoulder. "Lily, sweetheart, what are you doing here?"
Her eyes fluttered open, bright and alert despite her early morning nap. "Michael!" She scrambled to her feet, suddenly wide awake.
"Lily, it's barely six in the morning. What are you doing here?"
Her small face scrunched up with worry. "I had a dream that Sarah was sick. Today we have a special activity at school, but I wanted to see Sarah first before I go. Can I see her? Please?"
The innocent request hit me. How could a four-year-old possibly know about the accident? Rico and Carmen had no connection to our world, no way of knowing what had happened.
"How did you know Sarah was hurt, sweetheart?"
"I just dreamed it," she said matter-of-factly. "Dreams sometimes tell the truth, right? Can we go see her now?"
Looking into those earnest brown eyes, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. Sarah adored this little girl, and maybe, somehow, Lily's presence might help.
"Of course,e we can go see her."
Christopher raised an eyebrow when I emerged from the building carrying Lily, but he didn't question it until we were in the car. "Should I ask why you're bringing a preschooler to the hospital?"
"This is Lily," I explained, settling her into the backseat and fastening her seatbelt. "Sarah's been worried about her, and somehow she knew to come find us."
During the drive, I asked Lily about her preschool, and her face lit up as she described her teacher, her new friends, and the pictures she'd been drawing. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite everything, I found myself smiling for the first time since the accident.
At the hospital, I sent Christopher to drive Mother and Linda home; both were exhausted from their nightlong vigil. Lily's presence in the room changed everything. Where the space had felt heavy with worry and medical equipment, it now buzzed with innocent energy.
"Why won't Sarah wake up?" Lily asked, climbing carefully onto the chair beside the bed and taking Sarah's hand in both of hers.
"She's just very tired, sweetheart. The doctors are helping her rest so she can get better."
"Can I talk to her?" Lily asked, and I nodded.
Lily began chattering to Sarah about everything that had happened at school. "Sarah, you have to wake up soon," she said, gently touching Sarah's cheek. "Next time I get a gold star in art class, I want to give it to you."
"Maybe we should let Sarah sleep a little longer," I suggested gently, since Lily had been talking for quite a while now. "Want to get some breakfast?"
Just as I was about to lift Lily from the chair, movement caught my eye. Sarah's index finger twitched.