Well now aren't y'all just spoiled today... Two posts in one night. Don't get used to it though... It won't always happen. Again some french with translations in THIS colour. I'm sorry if the French is horrible, to those who speak it. I'm using an electronic translator, and they aren't the best.
I sat and waited... I talked, I apologized, I prayed... nothing worked, so now... I sat. Holding her hand I silently begged her to wake up. Come on, Stace, I'd cry to the universe. Just open your eyes.... Please...
I'm sure I stunk. I traded my wheelchair in for a pair of crutches, but they sat unused in the corner. I hadn't left her side. I didn't care. I wasn't leaving. I ate whatever Max, or Flower, would bring me; the girls wouldn't even enter the room anymore.
I was pathetic.
Then the door opened and Nathalie walked in. I could tell from her perfume. She quietly took Staci's bandaged right hand, while I gently lifted her left and held it against my cheek.
“Her engagement ring?” Sh asked quietly. I smiled sadly and pulled it out of my shirt pocket. She reached over and covered my hand with hers. “Maybe she'd like it back, non? Then you're always here with her.” She smiled encouragingly and nodded as I replaced my beloved's ring on her finger. Somehow it felt right. “Now, Sidney,” she whispered her eyes showing her concern. “When was the last time you were home? Slept? Showered?” I shrugged and averted my gaze back to Staci, more so I could get away from Nat. “Sidney... Go home... Get a good night's sleep. Staci's parents are here and I'm sure Claire and Guy would like some time with her. Even Marc, Vero and Max.” I sighed deeply and kissed Staci's hand gently.
“You're right, Nathalie. I need to go home.” I saw her release a relieved breath and she stood quickly as I rose slowly from the bed. She grabbed my crutches for me as I leaned down and gently kissed Staci's forehead. “I'll be back, Stace. I love you. I'm sorry....” I took the crutched from Nathalie and slowly heading into the waiting room.... And the onslaught.
I sat and waited as first Sid came out of the room and was accosted by not only his parents, but hers as well (that was the third couple, Guy told me). Mrs Crosby quickly shoo'd him out to the car and the Lacoix's and Régnier's went to Staci's room. Jordan went with them. Support for Laura (yeah right! Support for Jordan more like.... he's like a little puppy now...).
After about half an hour they came back. Mme Lacoix looked like she had been crying, as the men all escorted their women out to the cars.
Flower and V were next. I sat alone in the waiting room, staring at all the different motivational posters. How did these really help? Did they actually work? Did people find them uplifting and helpful?
Keep your face towards the sun and you will never see the shadows!
Times are tough, HANG IN THERE!
Really? Give me a break!
They should have...
Your family member is dying, but be happy!
I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I'll just sleep a bit... Just until they're done. A few minutes tops.
Flower gently shook me awake, I blinked open my eyes to see both of my friends with red eyes.
“Nous allons à la maison, Maxime.” (We are going home, Maxime) Flower whispered. “Voyez-toi le matin.” (See you in the morning.) I nodded and rubbed at my face, waking up. I watched them both exit the hospital before standing and slowly starting towards Staci's room.
Seeing her lying there helpless wasn't a shock, per sey, but it wasn't easy either.
“Hey, Stace.” I smiled sitting in the empty chair on the left side of her bed. I knew Sid had been talking to her in French. Flower and V too... It's what she spoke. But English wasn't working, so I figured I'd try French. “Chacun est si sérieux et triste dedans ici. Je vais vous rire éveillé.” (Everyone is so serious and sad in here. I am going to laugh you awake.) I grinned and leaned back in the chair, taking her hand. “Prêt?” (Ready?) I cleared my throat.
“Qu'appelez-vous laitue épileptique?.... Seizure salad! (What do you call epileptic lettuce?)
“Ce qui vous appellent l'aide d'un magicien mort?... An abracadaver! (What do you call a dead magician's assistant?)
“Ce qui vous appellent l'association des donateurs de sang?... The IV League!” (What do you call the Association of Blood Donors?) I laughed loudly and let go of her hand so I could slap my knee. Once my laughter died down and I could re-open my eyes, I looked down at her to see her bright blue eyes staring back at me.
“Où je suis?” (Where am I?) She asked confused and surprisingly in French.