A Hopeless Case

A short story. A first attempt at getting some writing done. All feedback is welcome.

Photo by Jan Tinneberg on Unsplash

Jake heard the front door open but didn’t look up from his computer screen. His fingers worked at a frantic pace. He heard the thump of Emily’s purse hitting the table next to the door, followed by the thud of her boots on the floor. A draft hit the back of his neck, a testament to the bitter winter weather and the increasing chill between them.

“Hey, hon,” he mumbled. The clicking of the keyboard seemed ominously loud, the silence that followed louder. With a sigh, Jake clicked “Save” and turned to face his wife. Her purse had fallen on its side, spilling some of its contents on the table. She wasn’t there.

“Emily?” Jake called. More silence. A quick glance at the clock told him it was after midnight.

With leaden legs, Jake rose and ambled toward the back of the house, stretching his stiff muscles with each step. His stomach knotted as he approached the bedroom. The door was open, the lights off. As he peered in, he could see his wife on the bed, her body shaking softly. A stifled sob escaped from her pillow.

Jake stood in the doorway and watched his wife cry. She’d been at the hospital every night for the past two weeks.

Emily’s sister Jenna had been driving home late one night when she was hit head-on by a trucker who’d fallen asleep at the wheel. Somehow she’d survived, but she’d suffered severe brain trauma and had been in a coma ever since. Emily spent long hours at her sister’s side.

Though Jake had gone with her the first few nights, each time he entered the hospital, he was thrown back to his childhood and the misery he’d felt watching his mother slowly die. He started making excuses not to go. Feeling more and more on edge, Jake buried himself in work, finding comfort in the logic and rationality that software programming provided him.

Eventually he approached the bed and sat down gingerly next to his wife. Placing a hand on her back, he remained silent, listening as her sobs rose and fell in waves, until she finally calmed.

“How’s Jenna?”

“Why do you care?” she asked dully, her voice ragged.

Jake sighed. “Come on, Em. That’s not fair.” They’d had this conversation many times over the past few weeks.

Emily lifted her head off her pillow. The anger drained from her face. “I know, Jake. But I can’t do this on my own.”

Emily was the only person Jake had ever confided in about his mother’s death. It had left him cold and detached, and with a crippling fear of death. Emily was special–she pulled Jake out of his shell just by being herself. By loving him. Jake knew as soon as he met her that she was his soul mate. She was so warm and caring. Being with her filled a void in his life, and she seemed to accept Jake and all his quirks. He admired her intelligence and her fearlessness. She was the love of his life.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked reluctantly, knowing what her answer would be. Knowing he would do whatever she asked him to do.

Emily paused for a moment. Finally, she said, “I need you to be with me at the hospital. You don’t have to do anything. Just be there.”

“You know how I feel about hospitals.”

“I know, and honestly, Jake, I do understand. But I need you right now. I can’t take another day in that room with all the machines and tubes and the horrible smell….” Emily took a deep breath to steady her breathing. “I know there’s not much hope for Jen, but I have to be there with her. Every day even if….”

The lingering hope that Emily felt made Jake angry. Each time she left for the hospital, each time she returned home, he felt a smoldering rage tighten its grip. But he loved his wife, so he lay down beside her, wrapping her in his arms. Her hair against his cheek made him feel warm and safe, and before long, they were both asleep.

###

For the next week, Jake accompanied Emily to her sister’s bedside, but as each day passed without change, Jake knew with certainty what Emily still would not accept–that the situation was hopeless. When a full month had passed since the accident, Jenna’s doctor called the family together. Jake felt his chest tighten. He listened soberly, as the neurologist, Dr. Mora, told them that there was nothing more to be done for Jenna. He suggested taking her off of life support and then left them alone to consider their options.

Emily and her mother Martha wept for what felt like an eternity. No one spoke a word. Alienated from their grief, Jake suffered deeply, remembering his own lonely tears when his mother had passed. That was the last time he’d cried, and there had been no one there to comfort him. Finally, Emily wiped her eyes and stood.

“Mom? Jake and I are going to take a walk. Do you want me to bring you some coffee?”

“No,” Martha rasped. “I need to be alone for a while.”

Emily led Jake out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. Fingers laced together, they walked in silence. They wandered for quite a while before they ended up in front of the hospital chapel. The wooden doors opened as an old man exited, head held low.

“I think I’d like to go in,” Emily said quietly.

Jake felt a tightness in his abdomen and his heart began to race. He took a step back from the chapel doors, letting go of Emily’s hand.

“I’ll wait here for you.”

Emily looked as if she were about to protest but then stopped, seeing her mother approach.

“I thought I’d come down and pray,” Martha said. She wore a very puzzled expression. “I’m surprised to see you here, Emily. I thought you didn’t believe in this stuff.”

Emily tensed. “I never said I didn’t believe. I’ll come with you.”

Martha asked Jake, “Would you go sit with Jenna, please?” With a rush of relief and gratitude, Jake nodded and walked quickly away from them.

###

Jake leaned back in the visitor chair, staring at the picture of St. Rita, the hospital’s namesake, that hung on the wall over Jenna’s bed. The woman’s smile soothed Jake. Emily and Martha had been gone nearly an hour and he was beginning to feel drowsy. Alone with his thoughts, Jake closed his eyes and let his mind wander over memories he had tried desperately not to relive.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d dozed, but something startled him awake. He sat up and blinked. The lights were dim. Had he turned them off? He didn’t think so. When he looked over at Jenna’s bed, he was surprised to see the shadowy outline of an older woman standing beside her, brushing a hand through Jenna’s hair. Hearing Jake stir, the woman looked at him and smiled. Her features were cloudy and indistinct, as if she were standing in a fog. And then she was gone.

Jake leaped up and flipped on the lights. The glare of the fluorescents hurt his tired eyes, and he saw that it was just him and Jenna in the room. But something had changed. Jenna’s monitors were beeping faster, numbers increasing. Alarmed, Jake bolted out the door and called for help. All three nurses at the nurse’s station came running, and Jake set off toward the chapel to get Martha and Emily.

A few minutes later, Dr. Mora met them at the door to Jenna’s room.

“I’m going to order some tests, but it would appear that Jenna is coming out of her coma.” He paused, looking bewildered. “We won’t know what that means until she wakes up.” At an apparent loss for words, the doctor left and walked to the nurse’s station to give further instructions.

Martha and Emily rushed into Jenna’s room, with Jake trailing slowly. When he looked at Jenna, he saw immediately that she looked different. Her face had color and he could see small movements in her fingers and legs. Martha and Emily were crying, holding each other and stroking Jenna’s arm.

“It’s a miracle.” Martha whispered to no one in particular, tears pouring down her cheeks. Hearing her words, Jake clenched his fists and began pacing near the door. No one noticed. “Thank you God,” Martha said, louder this time. She looked at Emily and Emily smiled.

“Oh bullshit, Martha!” Jake said, suddenly. “God doesn’t answer prayers. The doctors made a mistake.”

“Jake. What has gotten into you?” Emily hissed. “Go wait for me in the lobby.” Then she returned her attention to Jenna, effectively dismissing her husband.

Jake grabbed his coat and stalked out of the room like a wounded child. He stomped past the lobby, out the main hospital doors, and into the parking lot. The cold winter night cut into his skin, but he hardly noticed. His mind was a furious tempest of chaos and confusion. Nothing made sense. They’d been talking about taking Jenna off of life support only a few hours before and now she was waking up? That sort of thing doesn’t happen. And what about the old woman? He was dreaming, of course. Miracles don’t happen, he thought bitterly. And instead of heading back inside to wait for his wife, he walked to his car and drove home.

###

When Jake awoke the next morning, the sun was shining brightly through the window. He’d been asleep on the sofa, fully clothed. He’d slept so hard it took him a minute to remember everything that had happened the night before.

“Emily?” he called, but the house was silent. Emily’s purse wasn’t by the front door. She hadn’t come home.

Jake called Emily’s cell phone but was sent straight to voicemail, increasing his growing sense of unease. He decided to do some work to calm his nerves. The smell of coffee and the click of the keyboard had the desired effect.

He was totally immersed when he heard the key in the door behind him. He dug his feet into the floor under his desk and kept typing, trying desperately to hold on to that normal feeling.

“Jake?” Emily’s voice sounded weak. Jake didn’t answer, but he stopped typing. For a moment, he wondered if he should tell her about the old woman in Jenna’s room, but as soon as he thought it, he knew with absolute certainty that he’d never share that moment of insanity with anyone. Ever.

“Jake. We need to talk.”

“OK,” he said, turning toward her. She looked exhausted, but also strangely excited.

“I’m really concerned about what happened at the hospital last night.” Emily started. She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I can see how…the whole situation…well, it must have come as quite a shock. But I can’t believe you spoke to my mother that way.”

“I just don’t see any point in talking about miracles when the doctors obviously screwed up.” Jake didn’t trust himself to say more.

“How can you say that?” Emily asked, searching his face. “Jake, I prayed for a miracle and I got one. I haven’t set foot in that chapel, not once, since the accident, but last night I asked God and St. Rita to save my sister and they did.”

“St. Rita?” Jake said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s the patron saint of hopeless cases…you know, the one the hospital is named after.” An image of the old woman appeared again in his mind. He brushed it away.

Jake could see that Emily was serious, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, Emily. You can’t seriously believe that,” he chided.

Her face reddened. “All I know is that I asked for help, and now Jenna is awake. The doctor says it looks like she’ll be OK. Completely OK. How can that be anything other than a miracle?” Her shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but there was still that irritating note of hope in her voice.

“This has nothing to do with miracles, Em. That doctor fucked up.” He was nearly shouting with frustration, his words racing out of his mouth in a torrent of frustration. “If anyone deserved a miracle, it was me. I prayed every day for my mom to live and she didn’t. You really should consider filing a lawsuit against the hospital. Miracles don’t happen. ” This phrase had been repeating in his mind all morning like a mantra.

“I know your mom’s death was really hard on you, Jake.” She sighed. “You know what, let’s just drop this. I’m tired. I’m going to lie down.”

She left the room and Jake went back to his typing.

###

The next few days passed in silence. Jake stayed at his computer nearly all day, drowning himself in work to stay distracted. Emily spent most of her time at the hospital, and when she did come home, she and Jake gave each other a wide berth. Every time the topic of Jenna’s miraculous recovery came up, Jake dug in, not only unwilling to listen, but fervently attempting to convince Emily that she was wrong. After several intense arguments, he and his wife simply stopped talking

Jake was lonelier than he’d ever been. When he met Emily, he’d been convinced that he couldn’t love anyone. His mother’s death had left him empty. At times, Jake worried that there was something wrong with him, that his loss had left him broken, irreparable. Being with Emily had changed that. Now, when he looked at his wife, he felt resentful. He could see the light in her eyes, a renewed faith that he couldn’t accept or share.

When she announced that Jenna would be going home, Jake couldn’t look at her. He felt robbed. He remembered all the days he’d spent at his mother’s bedside, praying for a miracle that never came. The bitterness left him breathless. So, he focused his energy on work, finding solace in the structure of the program he was creating. Then, he heard Emily shuffle down the hallway toward him.

“Jake?” Her voice was quiet, her tone cool.

“Yeah,” he said, not turning from his screen.

“I’m leaving,” she said. “I’m going to stay with Jenna.”

Still facing away from her, he said, “When will you be back?” trying to keep the anguish from his voice.

“I won’t,” she said, sadly. “I love you, Jake. But I don’t understand you anymore. I see the way you look at me. You’re angry…or hurting…but you won’t let me in. What happened with Jenna changed the way I see the world. For some reason, you won’t let me have that. Maybe you can’t. And, I can’t stay.”

She waited for his reaction, but Jake stayed still, barely breathing. Finally, he heard her open the door.

“I love you…good-bye.” And she was gone.

Jake’s fingers flew across the keyboard as hot tears streamed down his face. But still, he would not turn around.

Dear readers,

My husband was always my first readers, and he did read a version of this story many years ago. Now that he’s gone, I’ve been wondering how my process will work now that I’ve lost that first piece of feedback. I’m putting this story out as an experiment. It’s raw. May have some typos. I invite you to provide feedback if you’d like to. Or even just a reaction. Thanks for reading.

Amy