Chapter 64 CHAPTER 65

Chapter 64 CHAPTER 65

Ernesto closed the door behind her without coming in.
“I’ll be right outside. If you need anything, knock.”
“Thank you.”
Julieta took two steps.
Then stopped.
The heart monitor beeped softly. The ventilator sighed at regular intervals, one breath after another. The light was dim and yellow, a single lamp beside the bed.
And in the bed, Vladimir.
The tube in his mouth was secured with white tape. Another, thinner tube ran through his nose. An IV line was taped to the back of his left hand, another beneath his collarbone. The left side of his head was bandaged. Nearly a month’s worth of beard had grown in unevenly because the nurses only shaved part of it. His face looked sharper. His skin was pale, but not gray.
He was motionless.
Julieta walked to the chair someone had left beside the bed and sat down because her legs refused to keep her standing. The chair was uncomfortable, too low for her belly. She pulled it closer as best she could.
She slipped his left hand out from beneath the blanket. Carefully, without tugging any wires. She took it between both of hers.
It was warm.
That was the first thing.
Warm.
That alone was enough for the next two minutes.
Julieta sat there with his hand between hers, studying his fingers one by one, the nails someone had trimmed, the pale mark at the base of his ring finger where no ring had ever been. She stroked his fingers with her thumb, slowly, again and again, as though counting them.
Then she spoke.
“Vladimir.”
The machine answered for him.
Beep.
“Vladimir, it’s me.”
Another beep.
“I came back. Don’t complain—I know the letter said otherwise. If you wanted me to stay where I was, then you shouldn’t have gotten yourself shot in the head. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Her voice trembled at the end. She clenched her teeth.
She adjusted his hand. Turned it palm-up. Ran her thumb along the center line, one she had memorized long ago, in another bed, in another room, in another mansion.
“I have something to tell you. Something big. That’s part of why I came back. That, and because your cousin kept calling every so often to tell me you were still lying here, and because leaving you here without knowing this felt dishonest, and being dishonest with you was something I never wanted to be.”
She lifted his hand. Without asking permission from the ventilator or the IV. She brought it to her stomach. Pressed it gently against the curve beneath her dress.
“Put your hand here. Here. Do you feel that?”
Lucio didn’t move right away.
He was asleep.
He had spent an entire day with his mother on airplanes, walking, arguing in hallways.
Julieta waited.
Shifted slightly.
Then spoke softly to the baby.
“Lucio, move once. Just once. Do it for me. Your father won’t know, but I will. Just once, my love.”
Twenty seconds passed.
Then it happened.
A long, lazy roll beneath Vladimir’s hand.
Julieta let out a broken laugh before she could stop herself, eyes closed, cheek resting against his arm.
“That’s it. Good boy.”
She looked at Vladimir’s face.
She wanted a finger to move.
An eyelid.
His jaw.
Anything.
Nothing moved.
Julieta clenched her teeth. Waited three seconds for her throat to work again.
“Well. You didn’t notice. But you’re finding out anyway. I’ll tell you myself. You have a son in here. Six months along. It’s a boy. For now, in my head, his name is Lucio. Later you can decide—or we can decide together. I don’t care, as long as you decide something, Vladimir. As long as you decide anything at all. Even if it’s waking up late, miserable, and angry at me.”
She kept his hand on her stomach.
Held it there herself, because he wasn’t holding it.
“He’s from that morning in the office. The whiskey morning. That’s the math. Not the cabin. Not the last night. Not any of the others. The first one. Back when I still didn’t know how to tell you yes without giving you a list, and you made one for me instead. That’s what happened. That’s where I came from.”
She kissed the back of his hand.
Once.
“Vladimir. Look at me. Even if it’s only from wherever you are inside, look at me. You have a daughter who eats because I talk to her through a screen. You have a son right here. You have a woman who crossed three thousand kilometers with six months of pregnancy and swollen ankles you can’t even imagine. I didn’t come here to sit vigil over you, do you hear me? I came because you have to wake up. That’s your job now, you bastard. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Wake up. You and I will figure out the rest afterward.”
Slowly, she lifted his hand from her stomach to her own cheek. Pressed it there.
Closed her eyes for a second, feeling his palm against her face.
“You don’t have to hurry. But you can’t stay here either. Do you hear me? Don’t rush. Don’t stay. Come back. It’s that simple. At your own pace. But come back.”
A tear slipped free.
She felt it run down her cheek against his palm.
It dampened his fingers.
Julieta didn’t wipe it away.

The door opened.
It was Ernesto.
He peeked in without fully entering.
“Juli. The doctor’s coming in for his afternoon checkup. Ten minutes, max. Do you want to step out or stay?”
“I’m staying.”
“You’re staying.”
Ernesto closed the door again.
Julieta lowered Vladimir’s hand from her cheek. Settled it at his side, not beneath the blanket, above it. She stroked his knuckles.
“They’re coming to check on you. Behave yourself. And if, at any point during this exam, you feel like opening an eye, don’t hold back. You hear me? Don’t hold back.”
She straightened in the chair. Smoothed her dress. Wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
When the doctor entered with two nurses, Julieta was already sitting upright, hands folded in her lap, her face composed into that of a woman who had decided in the last five minutes that this uncomfortable chair was going to be her home until further notice.
The doctor looked at her.
Saw her belly.
Saw that she wasn’t moving.
“Family?” he asked, more out of habit than necessity.
“Family.”
“Good. The examination will be quick. You can step outside if you’d like.”
“I’m staying.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
Julieta never let go of Vladimir’s hand while the doctor worked around the bed.
She held it the entire time.
Not tightly.
Just there.
Present.
And when they finished—when the nurses carried away their supplies, when the doctor scribbled something on his clipboard, wished her a good afternoon, and closed the door behind him—Julieta leaned over the bed again.
“I’m here.”
The machine beeped.
“I’m here until you wake up.”
Another beep.
Julieta pulled her chair a little closer, rested her forehead against Vladimir’s arm, and closed her eyes for a moment.
Lucio moved again.
A shorter roll this time.
As though he were settling in too.