Fifty-Fifty

It was the last thing I needed to hear right now. I thanked the doctor, hung up the phone, slumped back in my armchair, and stared at Lisa’s photo on the end table. Such beautiful blue eyes. And that smile…

Fifty-fifty. I don’t know, was that good odds? I appreciated the doctor’s honesty in answering my question, but I wished he would have given me a more definitive best guess.

The living room was so quiet, the tick-tock from the old grandfather clock my only companion. I looked around at the grandiose trappings of our country estate, wondering if, without Lisa, they would afford me the same comfort. The image kept flashing through my mind of Lisa slipping off the edge of the cliff, screaming as she clambered to grip something before plummeting onto the rocks below. How stupid was she to be that close to the edge. I know it shouldn’t have, but it made me so angry that she wouldn’t have taken more care. So much for women’s intuition.

The doctor promised to call me as soon as she came out of surgery and insisted I stay home, saying that even if she survived, she would be moved to ICU so I wouldn’t be able to visit her anyway. He was right that there was nothing I could do but wait, but that didn’t make it any easier. I felt my pulse racing again and tried the breathing exercises he had suggested. It helped a little.

Should I call more people? Who? I’d already called her mum and dad, so they would inform all the relatives, but I hadn’t called any of her friends or work colleagues. Should I be upsetting them too, or was it better to wait until I had more news? I thought about calling her boss, Daniel, but it was Sunday and there was nothing much he could do until Monday anyway, so maybe better to wait.

I was suddenly awakened by the phone ringing. As I grabbed for it I noticed the clock. I had drifted off to sleep for over three hours. I looked at the screen. It was the hospital. I was visibly shaking as I hit the answer button and said hello. I listened, without saying a word, as the doctor told me Lisa had suffered severe brain damage, and they’d done the very best they could, but she hadn’t made it, and even if she had, she would probably never have come out of the coma, and how sorry he was, and if there was anything he could do, to call him. I thanked the doctor and hung up.

I sat for a long while, motionless, staring vacantly. Eventually a tear formed in my eye, which soon escalated into uncontrollable sobbing, of course along with immense relief.

I really did love Lisa and feared how life would be without her. The only consolation I had was that however bad I felt, I knew Daniel would be even more devastated.