I press my lips together at her question; I’ve got no idea. “Would you like one?”
But Petra doesn’t reply immediately. I hear her sighing loudly instead. “I’d love to, yes, but does it make you or Dad uncomfortable? I know everyone else sees us, like, um, like, differently.”
After kissing the top of her head, I look into her big blue eyes and say, “I don’t give a damn. If my fiancée wants an engagement party, then we’ll have one.”
We keep quiet as we smile at each other.
I recognize that smile. It’s my favorite one—it’s the one she has when she’s happy, and the one she had when I said yes. Her entire face glows beautifully, and her eyes are even brighter than the sapphire she’s wearing. God, how many nights I’ve wished I could see her big blue eyes again. And despite everything I went through this year, here I am looking at them. Nothing else matters. She is here. And she is finally awake.
“Petra?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
Her brows crease in confusion. “For what?”
“For giving us a second chance.” But before I can say more, we are promptly interrupted by three knocks on the door. “Come in,” I say. And as soon as the women enter, I introduce her to them. “Petra, this is your physician, Dr. Nel, and your nurse, Cynthia. They’ve been taking care of you since you came back from the hospital.”
Born in the Netherlands and residing in New York for the past five years, Dr. Nel Van Djik was recommended—or imposed—by Tess to supervise Petra and her medical care.
But I must say, she has indeed been the perfect fit: with a speciality in neurology and well-known experience with patients in comas, Nel started monitoring Petra very closely upon her transfer to my estate. And after five months, she’s become part of the family. Not sure if I can consider her a friend though. After all, she seems to be quite close to Tess. And why wouldn’t she be? A sixty-five-year-old mother of three, she looks at me with some caution and ick in her eyes.
“Good morning, Petra. It’s so good to finally see you awake. How are you feeling?” Nel asks, her voice unusually warm and welcoming. “And you may just call me Nel.”
“Hi, Nel,” Petra mumbles, her tone still weak. “Actually, my entire body hurts. I can’t even move my legs.”
“You are most likely suffering from atrophy. After being motionless for so long, you’ll need physiotherapy to get back on your feet and walk.”
“Oh…” Petra can’t hide her disappointment. “I haven’t tried to stand up yet. But… does that mean I can’t walk at all?”
“Do you want to give it a try?” I ask, seeing her so alarmed.
“I can’t even bend my legs. They feel like stone.” She lets out a sigh, quite tormented. “In my dreams, I could jump up from bed and trot.”
“In your dreams?” Nel and I repeat in surprise.
“Were you having dreams?” I ask. “What kind of dreams?”
But Petra doesn’t reply immediately. It seems my question has left her a bit troubled as her eyes drift away for a second. “Um, mostly nightmares.”
As I’m about to ask further questions, Nel steps in. “Mr. Van Dieren, Cynthia, would you mind if I have a talk with Petra?”
“Not at all.” I place a long kiss on my fiancée’s forehead—still barely believing we are engaged—and whisper, “I love you.” Then, I stand up and leave the room.
Petra Van Gatt
If my mother introduced me to her best friend, she’d most likely look like Dr. Nel—big glasses, short gray hair brushed over to the side to feign some originality, petite figure, red lips, and a big, friendly smile on her face that only the biggest hypocrites can pull off. Now that I’m alone with her, the room falls into an uncomfortable silence. She might be my physician, but she’s still a stranger to me.
Nel waits a few more seconds before moving toward me and sitting on the side of my bed. I don’t feel like talking though. “I know you don’t know me,” she begins, keeping her smile just as big. “I’ve been monitoring your medical state for the past few months. The MRI showed your brain was quite active, but surprisingly, you didn’t move or even blink. Can you explain to me what kind of nightmares you were having?”
No, not really. But instead I say, “Um… They were scary.”
“I see…” She pauses for a beat while studying me. “Did it feel like you were trapped in some sort of reality you couldn’t escape from?”
My eyes widen in surprise at how accurate that is. “How did you know that?”
“I specialize in brain activity on patients in vegetative states. Those who wake up keep telling me they felt like they were trapped while in the coma, and there was nothing they could do to escape.”
While her words resonate with me, it’s quite hard to open up about it. After all, I don’t know much about her, or her relationship with my mother… Nevertheless, I ask, “Are you gonna repeat our conversation to anyone?”
“Of course not,” she asserts. And as she sees me hesitating, she leans closer, putting a hand on top of mine. “Everything you tell me stays between us, Petra.” Her tone is warmer than baked cookies; it sounds fake but so reassuring at the same time. Her eyes darting down for a second, she adds, “That’s a beautiful ring. Congratulations on the engagement.”
I look at it instinctively, my lips curving up. It is indeed a beautiful ring. I love sapphires. They are my favorite gems. I guess I started loving them back when I was a child and Alex used to compare the color of my eyes to sapphires. He knew I loved that word, I’d always giggle hearing him pronounce it. After all, it sounds so different from the boring word blue. “Thank you,” I tell her.
After some consideration, I decide to open up, but very cautiously. “I only remember one nightmare. But it felt way too real.” I pause, searching for the right words. “I woke up from the coma, but in Manhattan with Mom by my side, stroking my hair and telling me everyone had abandoned me. She and Emma were the only ones left.”
Dr. Nel nods as she reaches for her notebook and pen from her briefcase. “Emma? She’s your best friend, isn’t she?”
“Yes. She’s like a big sister to me. We basically grew up together.”
Dr. Nel keeps nodding and starts writing something down. “And what about Mr. Van Dieren? Where was he?”
I frown at her question, closing my eyes for an instant. Despite that nightmare not being real, the pain I felt, oh jeez, I felt it quite sharply. “He was gone,” I mumble, my eyes still shut. “He was married, and he was gone.”
“Hey…” I feel her hand pressing mine. “Petra.” My eyes open wide. “He’s here. And he’s not going to leave you.” Somehow, as I look into her gaze, I can’t help but feel my heart tightening. Her words don’t reassure me. They sound fake, just like those sweet little lies you tell someone in order to not hurt them.
“My mom said Alex promised her he’d leave me.” I take a much-needed breath. “Abandon me and move on with his life.”