made me wear and the cement-colored walls.
But in this hospital room, I was surrounded by so much more.
The warmth of the sun that came in through the window was yellow. The heat from Ashe’s hand red. I felt both penetrate me, even when my eyes were closed, the exhaustion taking hold, not even having an ounce of energy in me to keep them open. But when I was awake, I felt the colors too. During the moments when my eyelids would flutter open, expecting to be met with another white dress and a demanding, roaring, gray Ronald.
But that wasn’t what I saw.
I saw Ashe.
And the dream that I’d kept in my head for all of those years was now the reality playing out before me.
Safety.
Freedom.
Security.
When the panic set in again, the machines behind me singing a nasty song, Ashe would remind me that the nightmare was over. His fingers would hold me extremely tight, and I would try to calm the anxiousness in my body.
Just like I was doing now as my eyes moved from the white walls to the yellow window.
To him.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
The room smelled like coffee, and he was holding a large paper cup, the same way he had done in college.
I cleared my throat, the thickness moving down, my voice slowly returning. “I used to fantasize about different flavors, wondering if I’d have them again.” I swallowed, the back of my tongue still so permanently dry. “Coffee was one.”
He held out his cup for me to take. “Would you like some?”
“No.” I rested my arm over my stomach, my gut so bloated and full of whatever they were pumping me with. “Thank you.”
He moved his chair a little closer, and I jumped from the noise—a grinding, almost shrieking—the same sound the door would make when Ronald would come in.
“I’m sorry.” He paused midair, squeezing my fingers, the machine behind us screeching. “I’ll move it back.”
“No—” I started but cut myself off when I didn’t know how to continue. How to describe how I was feeling. How to even process what it all meant in my head. It had been so long since I’d been allowed to speak. I only knew how to keep it in. To let it eat. Scorch. Bolt in every direction. “You’re fine.”
He waited until I calmed and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I”—I reached inside me, searching for that answer. Freedom was what I’d wanted for so long, but with it came things that terrified me, and they were as scary as being inside the prison—“don’t know.”
“That’s understandable.” He set down his coffee and pulled at the collar of his button-down. It was a light blue, the color of his eyes, more beautiful than the ones I’d seen in my head for all these years. They had the tiniest hint of aqua, a gaze more piercing and precise than I remembered. “You’ve been sleeping on and off for three days.”
“Three days?”
I cleared my throat, the burn making me cough. He handed me a light-pink plastic cup, and I looked inside at the clear waves of the water. I took a drink, swishing it around before swallowing.
It tasted … heavenly.
“I spoke to your doctor this morning, and he’s extremely pleased with how you’re responding to the meds. He wants to talk about discharge plans. There are several options for you to consider.”
“I’m going to Gran’s.” I paused to cough again. “I hoped she would come here to see me, but I know that’s probably hard for her at this point.” My eyes shut, recalling how she used to hold on when she walked, her hands so delicate that she would squeeze me with her whole arm. “That’s my plan—to go to her.”
Ashe was silent, his thumb rubbing the tops of my knuckles. “Pearl, we have to talk about Gran.”
I couldn’t miss the compassion in his tone, the way his stare turned sympathetic, just like every nurse who woke me when they were checking my vitals.
Both made me hurt.
Even worse.
“Ashe …”
He shook his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t want to have to tell you this.”
I coughed, opening my lungs, the air feeling stuck. There was a hole in my chest so large that I didn’t know how it would ever repair. How this hurt would ever stop burrowing.
“Don’t.” I put my hand over my mouth, needing to filter the cleanness that was going in. “I can’t hear it.” I pulled my other hand away from him and held it against my chest.