The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [84]
Travis forced himself to sound conversational. Since she’d been here, he’d been trying to act as naturally as he could around her. Because they talked incessantly about the kids before the accident, because they discussed what was happening in their friends’ lives, he always tried to talk about them when he visited her. He had no idea whether she heard him; the medical community seemed divided on that. Some swore that coma patients could hear—and possibly remember—conversations; others said just the opposite. Travis didn’t know whom to believe, but he chose to live his days on the side of the optimists.
For that same reason, after glancing at his watch, he reached for the remote. In her stolen moments when she hadn’t been working, Gabby’s guilty pleasure was watching Judge Judy on television, and Travis had always teased her about the way she took an almost perverse delight in the antics of those unfortunate enough to find themselves in Judge Judy’s courtroom.
“Let me turn on the television, okay? Your show’s on. I think we can catch the last couple of minutes.”
A moment later, Judge Judy was speaking over both the defendant and the plaintiff, just to get them to shut up, which seemed to be the predictable, recurring theme of the show.
“She’s in rare form, huh?”
When the show was over, he turned it off. He thought about moving the flowers closer, in the hope that she would smell them. He wanted to keep her senses stimulated. Yesterday, he’d spent some time brushing her hair; the day before, he’d brought in some of her perfume and added a dab to each wrist. Today, however, doing any of those things seemed to take more effort than he could summon.
“Other than that, not much new is going on,” he said with a sigh. The words sounded as meaningless to him as they no doubt did to her. “My dad’s still covering for me at the clinic. You’d be amazed at how well he does with the animals, considering how long ago he retired. It’s like he never left. People still adore him, and I think he’s happy being there. If you ask me, he never should have stopped working in the first place.”
He heard a knock at the door and saw Gretchen walk in. In the past month, he’d come to depend on her. Unlike the other nurses, she maintained an undying faith that Gabby would emerge from all of this just fine and consequently treated Gabby as if she were conscious.
“Hey, Travis,” she chirped. “Sorry for interrupting, but I’ve got to hook up a new IV.”
When Travis nodded, she approached Gabby. “I’ll bet you’re starving, honey,” she said. “Just give me a second, okay? Then I’ll give you and Travis your alone time. You know how I am about interrupting two lovebirds.”
She worked quickly, removing one IV bag and replacing it with another, all the while keeping up a steady stream of conversation. “I know you’re sore from your workout this morning. We really went at it, didn’t we? We were like those folks you see on those infomercials. Working this, working that. I was really proud of you.”
Every morning and again in the evening, one of the nurses came in to flex and stretch Gabby’s limbs. Bend the knee, straighten it out; flex the foot up, then push it down. They did this for every joint and muscle in Gabby’s body.
After she finished hanging the bag, Gretchen checked the flow and adjusted the sheets, then turned to Travis.
“Are you doing okay today?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
Gretchen seemed sorry she’d asked. “I’m glad you brought flowers,” she said, nodding in the direction of the windowsill. “I’m sure Gabby appreciates it.”
“I hope so.”
“Are you going to bring in the girls?”
Travis swallowed through the lump in his throat. “Not today.”
Gretchen pursed her lips and nodded.