Page 144 of Delirium
“I would do anything for her, Indigo.”
“I know you would, and she’s lucky to have you in her life. She’s really, really lucky.”
No. I was the lucky one.
I was lucky to have her friendship, to have her with me. We were all lucky to have Ophelia in our lives. I knew without a doubt in my mind that if she didn’t survive this, none of us would ever be the same.
29
STORM
Wasit possible to have your heart split into two, both parts beating equally strong, as you watched the two most perfect human beings in front of you, sleeping peacefully, safe, and far away from the danger that brought them into life?
My heart cracked wide open as the nurse brought me into the room where my kids,ourkids, were recovering from tonight’s ordeal, stealing the breath from my lungs. My hand trembled as I placed it on the plexiglass separating my little baby girl from me, my eyes misting. The tears I thought had dried up on the way here suddenly made themselves known, rushing down my cheeks as I stared at the two of them.
I thought I couldn’t love another person more than I loved Ophelia, but these two angels… I didn’t know how to describe this feeling. There was nothing I had ever felt that could come close to this vice grip on my lungs, on my throat, my heart shattering and being put together with each passing second. I knew without a doubt in my mind that I would destroy anything and anyone to keep them safe, to keep them happy, far away from the dangers this world brought with itself.
“They look so tiny.” I broke down, my knees buckling from the force of love and fear I felt for them. “So freaking tiny.”
“They are,” the nurse who brought me here whispered. “But they’re strong. Their vitals are rather good for preemies, and they’ll be out of here in no time.” She had a soft smile on her face when I turned around to look at her, my eyes searching for the traces of lies, but there were none.
They were really okay. They were really here.
She pushed the chair toward me, indicating with her head for me to sit, and she didn’t have to tell me twice. I suddenly felt exhausted, powerless to do anything except to wait while their mom battled for her life a few floors down. She didn’t even know they were here, far away from the monster that wanted to take them away from us.
My head swiveled right just as my boy opened his tiny mouth, yawning, flailing his tiny arms around, but he kept his eyes closed.
“She’s looking at you,” the nurse murmured, and when I turned my attention back to my baby girl, I saw her mom there instead—Ophelia’s eyes and the tiny nose, that pouty lower lip and the weight in that little gaze. I didn’t know much about babies. Hell, I didn’t know much about anything, but the purity emanating from her tiny body left me shaking in my seat, while every single atom in my body screamed of love, of fear, because I knew they would need to be protected.
They would need to be cherished.
“Can I hold her?” I asked, keeping my hands on the incubator, hating the separation between us. I wanted to touch them to make sure they were truly okay. I didn’t believe the machines beeping around us, or the vitals I didn’t know how to read. I didn’t believe doctors or any of the nurses, even though deep down, I knew they were telling the truth.
But I wanted to make sure for myself.
“No,” the nurse murmured. “But you can touch them. Here.” I heard her footsteps behind me and from the corner of my eye, I saw her coming closer to the incubator. She pulled it closer to me and stood on the side. “Do you see these openings.” She indicated the two holes on the side of the incubator. “Keep your gloves on. They’re stable but we don’t want them to catch bacteria we tend to carry on us.”
“But I washed my hands.”
“Still.” She smiled. “Their immune system is practically non-existent at the moment, which is why we need to keep them in a sterile environment, at least for a day.”
I hated it, but I didn’t have a choice, and she was right. Their health came first. It didn’t matter if I touched them with my gloves on or without. What mattered was that they knew I was here. My own parents didn’t care whether I would live or die, and I never wanted to have these kids feeling as if they were alone or abandoned.
I wanted to give them the world and everything else I didn’t have as a kid. I wanted them to have a better life than Ophelia and me.
Nerves racked through me as I lifted both my arms, reaching through the openings toward her. Wires sprung from her body, kept on her tiny stomach with stickers. No matter how much I hated seeing them, I knew they were for her own good.
I dragged my finger over her tiny leg, her pale skin almost the same color as the white gloves I wore, and a shudder ran through me, knowing that I could’ve lost them all. I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my cheeks and I didn’t want to.
My palm slowly closed over the top of her head, while she still kept on looking at me, observing me, as if she didn’t know if she could trust me or not. A small furrow appeared between her tiny eyebrows, barely visible, and I smiled at her, trying to convey all my love for her in that one tiny movement.
“Hi, Malia,” I crooned as the pain laced through me, Ophelia’s words on repeat in my mind. God, I needed her to survive, to come back to us. I needed her to see them, to see our kids, to hold them and show them how much she loved them.
All three of us needed her.
“I’m your dad, baby girl,” I sobbed, dragging my thumb over her forehead, hoping that she knew—that they both knew—how much we loved them. “I’m your daddy, darling.” A watery smile appeared on my face, and I could see in the reflection on the plastic of the incubator how messy I looked, but I didn’t care.
All I cared about were these kids and Ophelia. Nothing else mattered.
