Chapter 21 - The Life That Mattered

Family.

Two days and many tests later, Ronin came home with a monitor and instructions to always have someone with him in case … well, Dr. Waters didn’t say the actual words, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines.

In case his heart stopped doing its job.

“Your parents should be here in about two hours if their plane arrives on time.” I handed Ronin a cup of tea as he sat on the sofa with Anya asleep on his lap and Franz next to him, flipping through the pages of a book about sea creatures.

Best. Life. Ever.

“I want at least two more.” I grinned, taking my own tea to the recliner so I could just … stare at my world all cuddled onto the sofa.

“Two more cups of tea?” He brought the mug to his mouth and blew at the steam.

I smirked. “Kids. I’ve just been blown away by family since the accident. Our parents. Even Graham’s parents shocked me by showing up an hour after they moved Lila to the ICU. Graham didn’t think they were coming until the next morning. I know he hated them seeing him so broken—weak in his words—but that’s the point, right? I mean, of course I want to have lots of days like this … fire, hot drinks, books, and naps with our kids. I want to travel the world with them. Birthdays. Graduations. All the good stuff. We brought them into the world for all of that … but also because no matter how strong we think we are, everyone needs someone at some point in their life.”

A barely detectable smile graced Ronin’s face. “I’ll have a dozen kids with you, Evelyn.”

“What’s wrong?” I set my tea onto the coffee table and moved to the sofa, scooting Franz and his pile of books over just far enough to allow me to sit by Ronin. “You’re in pain. I can tell. Why? What’s hurting you? Is it your heart? Are you having trouble breathing? Do you feel dizzy or lightheaded?”

We had a defibrillator just feet from the sofa on the kitchen counter. I knew how to use it. Ronin had a heart monitor. Yet, I wasn’t truly prepared to administer CPR or shock my husband in front of our two kids. My parents were at the hospital with Lila, planning on coming to our house close to the time of Ronin’s parents’ arrival.

Just a couple of hours. He had to keep his heart beating a couple more hours—forever really—but at the very least, a couple more hours.

“I’m just…” he shook his head, but it didn’t erase the tension on his forehead or release the tiny creases next to his eyes “…fine. It’s nothing.”

Twisting my body to the side, I grabbed his face. “Don’t lie to me,” I whispered so Franz didn’t focus in on us. “I know when you’re in pain, so don’t tell me it’s nothing. Tell me where and how bad.”

“I ache all over. But my leg especially. Can you take Anya?”

“Of course.” I scooped up her limp body and carried her to the bedroom, managing to lay her down without waking her. A true feat.

“Franz, your grandmas and grandpas will be here soon. I think you should go to your room and color pictures for them.” I kissed the top of his head.

He loved to color and draw. Ronin felt certain he got Julien’s artistic talent.

“Okay!” He slammed his book shut and ran to his bedroom, leaving a scattering of books on the sofa and floor for me to pick up.

Ronin rubbed his right leg, grimacing a bit.

“Roe … I’m scared.” I drew in a brave breath as I sat next to him without touching him. It took lots of slow, deep breaths to keep from breaking down. Franz didn’t need to see me crying. I had no way to explain it.

“Why are you scared?”

My gaze remained on his hand slowly rubbing his leg. “Because I’ve researched all the possible things Dr. Waters said might have caused your heart to stop beating, and none of them had body aches and leg pain as symptoms. They’re missing something, and I’m so scared that they won’t figure it out until it’s too late.”

“I don’t think they’re missing anything.”

Jerking my head to make eye contact with him, I squinted. “Why would you say that? Unless you know what it is but you’re just not telling anyone. And if that is the case, I’m going to be so damn pissed off at you for letting me go through all of this unknown, thinking the worst, angry at doctors, and praying to a God I don’t believe in about a problem I can’t define.”

After rubbing his lips together for several seconds, he shifted his blank stare to the window, blinking a few times at the new round of snow swirling in the air. “It’s hard to explain.”

I grunted a laugh, shaking my head while running my fingers through my hair. “Well, you need to try to explain it to me because I can’t keep myself from completely unraveling without any explanation.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you remember when I told you that I had something happen to me when I was younger? It affected my speech for a while, and kids made fun of me?”

It was shortly after we met. The day after the Va-ness-uh karaoke incident. Years later, I still remembered how insane and insecure I felt that night. Not a finer moment of mine. With a slight cringe, I nodded.

“What happened to me was quite significant.”

How did I not ask him more about it at the time? Oh, right … I was drowning in my own embarrassment and insecurity.

“What happened?”

“My uncle was remodeling his house. We stopped by to visit him. The adults talked, except mom. She stayed busy keeping an eye on Julien. I decided to snoop around a bit. I honestly don’t remember much after that, but apparently, I came across some exposed wires that were live. I was electrocuted.”

“Yes.” I took his hand and turned it over to rub my thumb along the scar on his hand. “But you got better.”

“I did. Eventually.” He curled his hand into a fist, flexing it several times. “That day … my heart stopped beating.”

“Roe …” I whispered as a chill slithered along my spine. “Why are you just now telling me this?”

He relaxed his hand, face expressionless. Eyes vacant.

“My uncle performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. They were gravely worried that I would have severe brain damage because it took so long to get my heart beating on its own again—it took the paramedics a long time to get there. As a result of the accident, I had speech issues for many months.”

“But you got better.” That was my line, and I would repeat it a million times if that made it a fact.

“Sort of …” He wouldn’t look at me. Something outside or years away from that moment held his attention.

“You don’t think so?” I cocked my head to the side. “You think your heart issues stem from that accident? Do you think it’s possible it damaged your heart or its electrical system somehow?”

“No.”

I froze, opening my mouth to say … what? I didn’t know. No. How could he say no? It made the most sense. “Then what’s your point? What’s the connection?”

“It’s funny…” he rubbed his temples a few times, inching his gaze to mine “…you don’t believe in God, but you’re open to the idea of parallel universes.”

“Well …” I said slowly. “One is based on faith, and the other is based on scientific probability. But if it matters, every time you get sick, I pray. At the hospital, I prayed for you and Lila. I like the idea of God even if I can’t wrap my head around it. What does this have to do with you and your heart?”

“Unexplainable phenomena and unprovable ideologies.” His eyes searched mine. For what? I didn’t know, maybe a flinch of disbelief or a glimmer of understanding.

I neither understood nor disbelieved. But unexplainable phenomena was a pretty weighty thing to throw out there—and an unacceptable answer to my question. What did it have to do with his heart?

I shook my head. “Stop spoon-feeding this to me, Ronin. Just say it. Your ambiguity scares me.”

“I had a near-death experience.”

That qualified as an unexplainable phenomenon. It also earned us a few minutes of silence, a few more minutes for him to gauge my reaction.

I didn’t give him anything. It explained his resistance to tell me, but not its impact on his heart. “So … like going toward the light?”

“I don’t recall a light. Just a voice.”

“Maybe it was one of the paramedics or the doctors at the hospital.”

“No.” He shook his head without a blink of hesitation.

“Okay. What did the voice say?”

“It said I was safe. I said I didn’t want to be safe.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I’ve always dreamed of being a superhero.” Ronin grinned, eyes trained to his hand rubbing slow strokes along his leg.

It wasn’t his best grin. I could tell he wasn’t feeling his best. Still, it was something, and I needed something. “You have?” When I thought I couldn’t possibly love him more … there I was, loving him more. “How did I not know this about you?”

He lifted a single shoulder. “It stops sounding cool once you’re an adult.”

“What did the voice reply?”

“It asked why? I said I wanted to save lives.”

“You’re my superhero. And you’re definitely Lila’s.”

“Maybe.” He frowned. “But it comes with a price.”

“Your heart issues?”

“Not exactly. More like extreme empathy. The voice restored my heartbeat, but only after I agreed.”

“Agreed to what?”

“It’s hard to explain. Not necessarily a proverb, more like an unspoken law of nature. Honestly, it feels more like a curse. I was twelve. The words meant nothing. The choice to live meant everything. So I agreed.”

“Do you remember it? The proverb or curse?”

“Yeah. It said, ‘Hinder not the soul’s intended path unto the light, lest shards of darkness shed upon thee.’”

The kitchen faucet dripped. I hadn’t noticed it before. A lot of sounds came to life between Ronin’s proverb and my inability to respond. The tarp covering the woodpile whipped in the wind, clapping against the side of the house.

Creaks from the logs bending like the joints of a ninety-year-old.

The howl of the wind carrying smoke out of the chimney.

“You think I’m crazy?”

That wasn’t the word. Not crazy. We’d spent five years together. I’d seen his crazy, and he had seen mine.

“No. Science doesn’t know a lot about near-death experiences. And when they think they have an explanation for one near-death experience, there are ten other cases defying that explanation. Clearly, it’s not something that can easily be studied. It’s frowned upon to purposely take a human to the edge of death, push them over, and then try to resuscitate them to test their out-of-body perception.” When all else failed, I wore my geek hat and droned on like the world’s most boring professor.

“That didn’t answer my question.” Ronin frowned.

“I did answer it. No. I don’t think you’re crazy. I just don’t understand what this means.” I closed my eyes, rubbing them with my fingers while forcing a breath through my nose.

“It means I’m not supposed to bring the dead back to life.”

I paused my fidgeting, letting my hands slide down my face. “You know this for a fact?”

“It’s what I’ve been told. And it’s been my experience.”

“Told by whom? And what experience?”

“Look!” Franz ran out of his room, holding up two colorings. “Shh …” I held my finger to my mouth, but it was too late. Anya’s fussy cries filled the air.

“Let me see those, big guy.” Ronin held out his hand.

I stood, backing up a slow step at a time, focusing on everything about my husband—his forced smile, his strained voice, his pale face, and his drowsy eyes. Before I could say another word or make eye contact with him, Anya let out a louder cry. After that, everything fell into an unstoppable chain of events.

Anya.

Poopy diaper.

Franz needing a snack.

Graham calling to give us an update.

My parents arriving.

Ronin’s parents arriving.

He left me with a mind-blowing confession, a revelation too unreal to sort out and make sense of it. I had so many questions, but life took center stage, allowing us no time for more answers.

On autopilot, I tossed together ingredients for a pot of chili, threw in a load of laundry, and absentmindedly nodded when someone spoke to me. Yes, I knew Lila was doing better, but at the same time, she was in more pain because they were weaning her off the stronger pain medications. Everything my mom and dad shared from hours earlier at the hospital, I already knew because Graham texted me several times an hour.

I watched Ronin, slumped into the corner of the sofa, pretending to engage with the kids while my dad rubbed his hands together over the wood stove, sharing his thoughts on the Denver Nuggets with … I wasn’t sure. Victor had drifted off to sleep in one of the recliners, probably not a fan of the Nuggets or basketball in general. Sometimes Ronin and I would make eye contact. He knew I saw his pain. I knew he saw all the unanswered questions running rampant in my head.

“Would you like me to get Franz ready for bed?” Ling asked as I put away the last dinner dish and tossed the towel on the countertop.

It took me a few seconds to respond. Everything felt heavy: my limbs, my eyelids, and my thoughts—sluggish and unfocused. I needed sleep. But yes, my kids needed to get to sleep as well.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Franz, show me your favorite jammies,” Ling said with Franz’s level of enthusiasm.

Before he could scramble to his feet to follow Ling, Anya cried from her bedroom.

I flinched, my gaze darting to Ronin. My mom had taken Anya to her room to rock her to sleep.

“She’s teething. I should give her something.” I yawned.

Before Ronin could return a full nod, his gaze redirected toward the hallway, eyes widening as he pushed himself off the sofa. My gaze followed him … as if in slow motion. At least, that was how I always remembered that moment.

Anya, stumbled down the hallway with her already unsteady toddler gait, a trail of blood from her head to her jaw. My mom … nowhere in sight.

“Anya!” I rushed to her right behind Ronin.

He picked her up as if nothing in his body felt pain at that moment—the power of adrenaline. Then he inspected the cut on her head as she reached for me. I didn’t think it was possible to stretch anymore, but I felt the painful pull once again from the people that I loved.

“Take her. Call 9-1-1.” Ronin handed Anya to me. I knew the call wasn’t for our daughter.

As soon as I turned to go find my phone, my dad rushed past me.

He knew too.

“I’m calling.” Victor pulled his phone from his pocket.

Ling hurried toward me with a wad of tissues, pressing them to Anya’s cut while I used my shirt to wipe the blood from her cheek.

Stretch.

Tug.

Pull.

I felt the cracks as Franz hugged my leg.

“Mommy! Anya bleeding!”

I couldn’t let go of my little girl, but something happened to my mom, and I had no idea what it was. With my babies clinging to me, I couldn’t go back to the room to find out.

Ling gestured to the wad of tissues on Anya’s head. “Hold this here. I’ll go see.”

Fear strangled me, even a simple “okay” couldn’t make it out of my mouth. I nodded, holding the tissue to Anya’s head as I tried really hard to not let out the tears pooling in my eyes. Dread snatched my ability to think coherently. Heart palpations stole my breath, making it hard to find enough oxygen. But I had to find that next breath. I knew at some point I would no longer have to be strong for anyone else, and I would crumble into a cloud of despair. Until then … I moved like a wave, miles off the shore, waiting for my turn to crash … break … and disappear.

My grandma told me God never gave us more than we could handle. Either she was wrong, or I was right—God didn’t exist.

Closing my eyes, I let everything slow down until all I could feel were my children’s arms—Franz around my leg, Anya around my neck. What if they were the only ones I could keep with me? Could I lose my mom, my best friend, and my husband and still be okay? Could I be the wave that changed courses in the storm, carrying them with me to avoid crashing … breaking … disappearing?

Yes.

I knew it the moment I held Franz in my arms. My love would always be strong enough to last my whole life. If my heart had a beat, I would be there for Franz and Anya. I never wanted it to beat alone. I’d always imagined it beating with Ronin’s heart, a union as beautiful as the one that brought our children into the world.

“I love you.” I found my voice as I kissed the skin beside Anya’s head. She hiccupped with a few more sobs.

“I love you both so much.” I squatted down, dropping to my backside and bringing Franz into my embrace too. “And we will be okay.”

My internal reconciliation had nothing to do with me giving up on my mom, on Lila, on Ronin … It was me building a shelter in my heart for my children—one that would weather every storm.

“She had a seizure.” Ling rested her hand on my shoulder.

My body gently swayed side to side with my world wrapped in my arms.

A seizure.

Knowing we would be okay no matter what, I was able to file that information into the right place in my mind.

My mom had cancer.

My mom was dying.

My mom was going to experience seizures, dizziness, vomiting, headaches, numbness, and possibly paralysis in parts of her body.

A seizure.

She would be fine … for the time being.

One moment. One breath.

I couldn’t undo the past. Nor could I change the future.

My babies are okay. We are okay.

Victor moved from watching out the window to opening the door for the paramedics.

Two of them ushered past me down the hallway following Ling. A third one, a fair skinned woman with a soft smile, squatted next to me while slipping on her blue gloves.

“I’m Janette. Can I take a look?” she asked.

I eased the wad of tissue away from Anya’s head.

She covered it with a gauze square. “We’ll make this all better, sweetie.”

“Grandma!” Franz jumped out of my lap and tried to run after the two medics taking my mom out to the ambulance.

“Anya …” My mom’s weak voice echoed.

“Your grandma will be fine, Franz. They just need to have a doctor check on her. You can see her later.” Victor picked up Franz just before he made it out the door.

“Evie, let’s go, baby.” Ronin took Anya from me. “I’ll take Anya in the ambulance with your mom. You take your dad and follow us in the Jeep.” He held out his other hand to me.

I didn’t take it. I didn’t need his help to stand up. He was the one who needed help.

“Ronin, you can’t—”

“I’m fine.” He kissed the side of Anya’s head.

He wasn’t fine. Ronin’s usually warm beige skin was whiter than mine. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks were sunken beneath his cheek bones more than usual because he hadn’t eaten much in days.

“We’ll stay with Franz. Call if you need anything.” Ling handed me my coat, phone, and purse as I stood.

Ronin wrapped a blanket from the sofa around himself and Anya before heading out to the ambulance.

“Grandma and Grandpa are going to put you to bed, Franz.” I hugged him. “We’re going to let the doctors fix Grandma and Anya. I love you so much. We’ll be back soon.”

I saw the unease in his eyes. Ronin’s parents visited several times a year, but Franz wasn’t as comfortable with them as he was with my parents whom he saw almost every week. But man, oh man … did I ever love how my little boy put on his best brave face for me when I absolutely needed it more than anything else.

“Okay, Mommy. Goodnight.”

Sheesh …

That brought tears to my eyes more than had he tried to argue with me or beg me to stay.