Daymare

What is that infernal beeping?

If it’s your alarm clock again, Simon, I swear I’m going to smash it with a hammer. All I wanted was to sleep in without noise. These thoughts ran through my head as I lay in my cozy bed. Sleeping in on a Saturday morning, something I rarely get to do; it would have been nice had I not been jarred awake by such an atrocious racket.

For crying out loud! That beeping is extremely annoying!

Rolling over I open my eyes, prepared to meet the day and for my fist to meet the alarm clock, but… wait… why am I not rolling over? Why aren’t my eyes opening? What on earth is going on? Ok… I take a deep, calming breath and try again. I’m still not moving. I’m just about to have a full-blown panic attack when I hear what sounds like the click of a door opening and then voices.

“The prognosis isn’t good, Simon. I think you need to consider her wishes. It might be time.” said an unfamiliar voice.

Time? Time for what?

“I just can’t, what if… I don’t know; what if she can come back to us? If there’s the slightest chance…?”

That voice, that was Simon, my fiancé. A chance I could come back from where? I’m right here! What is going on?

I tried in vain to move, to speak. Something, anything. But nothing would happen. I screamed and screamed but no sound would come out. I started to cry. Surely someone would see my tears and realize I was conscious. Wouldn’t they?

“There is no chance Simon. She’s not even breathing on her own. If it weren’t for these machines…” he trailed off, changing his tone. “Look, Simon, I know it sounds harsh, but you’re not doing her any good keeping her hooked up to these machines. They’re performing all functions for her Simon, from feeding her to giving her oxygen. She hasn’t moved so much as a muscle in days. I’ll come back, and when I do we need to unplug the machines.“

“But, doctor…” I could hear the choked emotion in Simon’s voice. I also realized he was talking to a doctor. So this beeping…. it wasn’t the alarm clock after all.

Oh. My. God. They’re talking about me. I’m on life support! But I’m not brain dead, surely the scans showed activity in my brain. Right? I can move, what is that doctor talking about? I can, I know I can. Nothing seems to be happening now, but I know if I try harder…

I could hear the door again as the doctor left, then another door. I strained hard to hear something, anything over this infuriating beeping. I heard water running; Simon must be in the washroom. I tried once again to move my fingers or toes, but still nothing.

I just don’t understand how I got here. What happened? The last thing I remember was having dinner with Simon. A ‘makeup’ dinner. We’d had a disagreement… ok, more like I’d asked him all sorts of questions about his past. Things I’d promised I wouldn’t ask. But I was just curious, some stuff didn’t add up. The newspaper I work for was following the story about a man who was leaving a trail of dead women in his wake. They’d even dubbed him ‘The Grey Widower’.

I’d done some digging and had found some newspaper articles about missing women and some of the names I was sure had been women he’d dated. So I asked him about his previous girlfriends and we’d had a huge fight.

But we were making up. I was cooking him his favourite meal and he had even brought the wine I liked, even though he doesn’t drink wine. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the entire bottle. Still, that doesn’t explain how I ended up in the hospital, on life support.

I felt a presence close to me. I strained harder than ever to move a finger or to blink or open my eyes, anything. But nothing would happen. This was worse than anything I could imagine. I was shrieking inside my head. Oh Simon! Please, please! My mind shrieked. I’m alive. I’M ALIVE! PLEASE!

I felt Simon take my hand in his, felt how clammy his palm was. As he leaned in I could smell his aftershave, feel his breath on my cheek. Thinking he was leaning in for a kiss, I wished with all my might to open my eyes, pucker my lips. To move. Do something!

Instead of a kiss, I felt his breath on my ear.

“I know you’re in there Wanda. I know you can hear me. I’m so glad you enjoyed your wine, but you know, it’s just too bad you had to be so nosy. Guess who gets the last laugh now? You, a reporter and you didn’t even know you were dating the ‘Grey Widower’?” and with that, he started laughing and he laughed and laughed and laughed.