The Sleeping Man

THE SLEEPING MAN

Before you go on and read this, I have a caveat I need to share with you.

The overall premise of this story revolves around a character who had been in a long-term coma. I did the research, and I know what I've put in writing will stretch the reality of the situation. What transpires here is not a likely reality. The time gap helped me develop the type of closure I was looking for. So, if you are put off by medical inaccuracies, please do not read this. As many authors before me have said... It's how it happened in my world.

Still self-editing and writing slower than usual. All mistakes are just that... mistakes. Apologies if they distract you too much.

Cheers!

C_T

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"Hello?"

"Yes, could I speak to Mrs. Valerie Hampton, please?"

Right away, the little hairs on my neck stood up. "Uhm... this is Valerie Jackson, formerly Hampton. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't aware..." The female voice seemed to fade away.

"You said you needed to speak with me? Who's this?" I could feel my husband, Jim, slide in behind me, obviously curious about the conversation.

"Yes... this... I mean... I'm Loretta. I'm calling from Evergreen Palliative Care. I'm part of the staff that looks after Mr. Hampton."

My heart immediately slipped into my throat. I instantly thought she was calling me to let me know that Dean died. It was inevitable, I guess, but it didn't remove the gravity of it all. "Did he pass?" I was barely able to get my words louder than a whisper. Jim's hands were immediately wrapping around my body. My 7-month pregnant body.

"Mrs. Hampton... I mean Jackson," She paused. "I'm calling you because Mr. Hampton woke up from his coma just a few hours ago."

The last thing I recalled was a voice calling out... "Hello?"... "Hello?"... "Mrs. Jackson?" After that, it was darkness.

"Is mommy okay?" I could vaguely hear Dee's voice.

"Yes, honey. She just fainted. She'll be okay." That was Jim's voice.

I slowly opened my eyes to the vision of Jim kneeling beside me and my daughter Deanna looking over his shoulder. As I became familiar with their presence, my mind started to reboot, and I remembered the phone call.

"Dean?" I spoke to my husband. "Is he..."

"Yes, Val. He's awake." I could see the conflict in his eyes. Not only was Dean my first husband and the love of my life, but he and Dean were once the best of friends.

"What do we do?" I asked the one question that neither of us could find an immediate answer to.

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Dean and I grew up in the same neighbourhood, same schools and the same circles of friends. We were always chummy in a school-kid kind of way, but that all changed during our second year of high school. The night that two underage teenagers decided to act grown-up and drink some stolen beer. Were we drunk? Maybe; it felt like it back then, but it only seemed to fuel the hidden desire we had for each other. Dean was the first boy I kissed, and we learned by trial and error that evening.

We grew closer, like it was the most natural thing to do. We had it all... unflinching loyalty as friends and eventually as lovers. I knew we would get married after "dating" for only 3 months. I expected my mother to giggle or try to explain how irrational that thought was at such a young age and in a first relationship. Instead, she simply smiled. No preaching... no advice... just a smile.

Like a typical cliché, we gave each other our virginity on the night of our high school graduation party. Looking back, it was a combination of terrifying and hilarious. Neither of us had a clue, but the desire pushed us through. We laughed, we cried... we bonded, forever. Needless to say, we got very good at it. You know... practice, practice, practice! Our stable, comfortable relationship allowed us to ask each other questions and gently dictate our needs. We literally grew up together having sex.

Originally, I was a little squeamish about oral sex. You know... that's where we pee from. Dean was a little more gun-ho, and over time, he was able to ease me past my barrier. He loved kissing me down there, and the passion he lit inside of me eventually won over my reluctance. I remember the first time he gave me an orgasm with just his mouth and tongue... it was a memory that I relived in real time, over and over again. Of course, I began to feel like I was doing all the taking, so I surprised him one night when I asked him to pull his truck over in the middle of nowhere. I don't know how many vehicles passed us as I sucked his cock for the first time. What I did know was that I truly enjoyed it and saw a lot of this in our future. To drive that point home, I was surprised at how his cum tasted. All my girlfriends said it was gross, and most would just spit it out. I couldn't imagine wasting something so special.

Dean proposed to me during my second year of University. Of course, I said yes! We planned a wedding the summer after graduating with my Industrial Commerce degree. Although he was a great student, Dean never saw himself in an academic lifestyle. Like his father, he was a talented contractor. His true gift was drywall installations and mudding. I was surprised at the demand for something like that, and when you're as good as Dean was, he could've raped people with his costs, but my Dean wasn't built that way. People would wait months if it meant they could get Dean to do their projects.

During my last year in University, Jimmy entered the picture. I still remember how animated Dean was about the new guy he had to work with during a shared project. Dean was man-crushing about this guy so hard that he had me in stitches. I was waiting for the stories about the time the man walked across a pool or healed the ailing seniors. The most comical part of this new relationship was Jimmy being an electrician. Generally, Dean doesn't have too many good things to say about them. Oh, he knows they're critical in any new or renovation builds; he just hates working with them because, in his words, they make his job way tougher than it needs to be. Some of them were so inconsistent with their placements of outlets, light switches and lights; he had to measure everything over and over to make sure his drywall fit.

Well, not only was Jim fussy like my Dean, he even asked if the rough-in was good enough to work with. I swear Dean told me he fell in love with the guy. From that day forward, they were destined to become friends and partners. By the time I graduated and just before our wedding, Dean and Jim opened Salt N Pepper Contracting. Salt and Pepper? Well, you see, Dean was white, and Jimmy was black. Now, before you decide how racist the name of their company is, you need to understand that they came up with it themselves. Their theory? Individually they were good, but together they could make everything better... like salt and pepper. Hey, it was their idea; I just laughed and went along.

It was no surprise when Jim was Dean's best man at our wedding. Jim's girlfriend, Delila, was a sweetheart, and the four of us got along famously. We had life by the horns. I was married to my best friend... Salt N Pepper was a huge success and had four full-time people and as many as twenty-five seasonal workers during the peak of the summer building season. And if our life wasn't perfect enough, I was pregnant with our first child... a girl.

But this is where life threw us a huge curveball. I was six and a half months pregnant when the unthinkable happened. Dean was doing a site inspection and a quote for an upcoming renovation of an old mechanics shop. The new owners had the crazy idea that it would be a cool nightclub, especially if they could keep the feeling of the four-bay repair shop. Personally, both Dean and Jimmy thought they were off their rocker, but they were promised a quote, so Dean went there before coming home that night.

I remember walking out of the kitchen and seeing Jimmy and Delila standing in our little foyer. I was surprised to see them, but our front door was always open to them. When I asked what brought them by, I distinctly remember seeing the tears running down Delila's cheeks. It was then that Jimmy told me my husband... my Dean, had been in a horrible accident and we needed to get to the hospital. I was present when the doctor explained what happened. I didn't understand much of it, so I turned to Jimmy, who sat me down and slowly explained things to me.

"He was in one of the mechanics' pits, measuring the square footage, when an old hydraulic line suddenly let go, and the car lift above him came down without any warning. Fortunately, he was bent over at the time, but the bulk of the impact was to his shoulders and head. If he were standing, he would likely already be dead. He's suffered some lacerations around his head and shoulders, but the real damage is inside his head. The blow to his brain caused internal hemorrhaging and has impeded everything from his nervous system to his circulatory system. He has slipped into a coma, which the doctor said was the body's way to try and shut down enough to heal itself."

"Is he okay? I mean... he'll get better, right?"

I knew right away that Jimmy was trying to find a way to say what he needed to say, without freaking me out. "Only time will tell, Val. But..." He held my hands tight. "It doesn't look good."

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I don't remember much of the ride that brought us to the palliative care centre. When Jim helped me out of the car, the entire walk felt like it was in slow motion. It had been four days since that phone call, and we could no longer put off the inevitable. When Jim inquired about seeing Dean, the doctor overseeing his care suggested that we give him a few days to adjust to being awake. I spoke with his parents last night. They'd been there every day since he awoke. Peter and Barbara were still very much in my life. Obviously, they were a part of Dee's life, being her grandparents. Like Jim, following that fateful day, Dean's parents were my lifeline to all that was Dean. My parents tried their best to console me, but it was the love of Peter and Barb that carried me through the darkest of days.

We don't see each other as much, especially since my marriage to Jim. Don't get the wrong idea... they were there. I was only finally able to take that step with their gracious approval. Their knowing Jim was a big part of that. At one time, Jim referred to them as his white parents. Although that closeness has run its natural course to occasional visits. Peter and Barb knew their ongoing presence would only stunt any chance for us to work out, so they slowly drifted away from our day-to-day lives. Our biggest connection was through Deanna, of course. She loved her Nana and Papa very much.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Val? We can wait a few more days." Jim's concern was palpable.

"Barb told me he's been asking for me, honey. I... I can't ignore that. I owe him that much." Jim nodded his head because he knew I was right.

We walked through the doors, and after a brief wait, we were escorted down a series of halls and shown into what was clearly a doctor's office. We both declined coffee or water but were assured that the doctor would only be a few minutes. Thankfully, the woman who brought us in here was accurate, as no more than three minutes had passed before a short Asian man walked into the room and introduced himself.

"Good afternoon. I'm Doctor Chow and have been assigned to Dean's case for the last few years. I'm sure you have many questions, so how about we deal with that here, and afterwards I can fill you in on our approach for Dean going forward."

"Can he talk? Does he remember?" Jim was out of the gates quickly.

"His speech is getting better. He lisps and struggles with his breathing but, in time, it should improve. His memory is also struggling. He remembers much of his youth and of course you two, but..." He took his glasses off and wiped them. "There are gaps. Many memories seem to pop up out of nowhere. Some, of course, have been very unsettling for him. As of right now, he has no recollection of what happened to him."

"Uhm, Dr. Chow? Does he know anything about his daughter or...?" I pointed down at my pregnant belly. The belly that held the baby of his best friend... my new husband.

"With the help of his parents, we've carefully begun walking him through the past 8 years. That includes your daughter and of course... your marriage."

I started crying. The guilt that I once felt came rushing back all over again. The days, weeks, months and years I spent beside his bed, holding out hope that he would come back to me. It was only with the encouragement and understanding of his parents that I let myself move on.

"H... how did he take it?" I choked out.

The doctor reflected on my question for a moment. "As you can imagine, dealing with losing eight years of your life is traumatic enough. It's been a difficult journey for him, but his parents have been there through it all. I believe he's beginning to wrap his head around his new reality. Our focus now is getting him into a physical rehab program, as well as speech therapy. He's currently refusing the next step."

"Why? Why would he be refusing that?" Jim questioned the doctor.

Doctor Chow looked directly at me. "He says he needs to see you first."

"Val, baby? This is a lot, right now. He's emotionally scrambled, you're at your breaking point, too. You have got to think about the baby. All this stress can't be good for him... or you."

I know Jim was just being protective of the baby and me, but I lashed out before my brain properly rationalized that. "So, what do you want me to do, Jim? Walk out on him again? Is that what you want?!"

"No, baby! That's not what I'm saying. At least let me come with you. If he gets angry, I'll take the heat." Jim looked at Dr. Chow. "That's the smart thing, right? I mean, does he know she's pregnant with my baby? Jesus... his last memory of her was when she was pregnant. It's like slapping him in the face! Right, Doctor?"

"It's not my place." He calmly replied.

I quietly considered Jim's words. He had a point. It's not like Jim, and I jumped in the sack right away. It was a slow process that gradually became romantic over six years. I doubt that would make a difference to Dean, but I'd always been truthful with my Dean, and I'd be dammed if I was going to try to pull the wool over his eyes... even if the intentions were meant to be good.

"Can I see him now?"

"Yes, that can be arranged." Dr. Chow tipped his head.

"I'm coming!" Jim stood up before me.

I worked my way up from the chair and grabbed both of his hands. I waited until I had his eyes... his attention. "We both know that's not a good idea, at least not right now. It'll be fine. Even if he gets angry, Dean would never say or do anything to hurt me. It's just not in his DNA."

"Babe... please." Jim pleaded.

I pushed up on my toes and kissed him on the lips. "We never talked about it, but we both knew the moment we became a couple that this day could be possible. Well, it's here. If it makes you feel better, I'll ask Dr. Chow to check on us periodically." I looked at the doctor, and he nodded in agreement. "It'll be okay. I love you, Jim."

I stood at the door with Dr. Chow. My earlier resolve was seriously challenged. I'd never felt anything like the anxiety I was feeling at this moment. I was startled when a nurse opened the door and walked out. The two health professionals had a brief, subdued chat before she smiled at me and walked down the hallway.

"Are you sure you're ready, Mrs. Jackson? Another day or two wouldn't impact his rehab by much."

I appreciated that he could read my situation and was clearly trying to give me a defensible out, but despite my anxious state, my mind was made up. He didn't need to hear me say anything. He could see it in my eyes. He reached forward and opened the door into the room and stood back to allow me enough space to enter.

I had been in this room many times, although not for quite some time, but I had no idea what to expect when I entered. I moved into the room cautiously, barely making a sound. When I rounded the corner of the washroom, I tentatively looked towards the bed. There, sitting up and looking out the window, was my husband... I mean, my ex-husband. Without any warning whatsoever, I began to cry. No... that's not accurate. I sobbed. I sobbed uncontrollably. I made enough noise to cause Dean to turn his head in my direction. In an instant, our eyes locked. He was physically different from the boy I grew up with, and the man I fell in love with, but his eyes were still the same.

I shuffled slowly towards him, unable to look away. The last time I saw him, some 8 months ago, he was unable to see me... and now he could. Tears formed quickly in his eyes and were soon cascading down his cheeks. The mere sight of his pain brought me closer to his bed like a moth to a flame. I was finally standing beside his bed, refamiliarizing myself with the look of love I lived every day to be lost in.

My throat was so tight, I was struggling to swallow my own saliva. I tried to speak; he tried to speak, but neither of us could get any volume behind it. Finally, my instinct took over, as I leaned over his bed guard and embraced my lost husband. Despite the length of time he was in his coma, I could still catch his scent. It was wonderful and painful at the same time. I felt his frail body jerk with his sobbing. He was so skinny; I was worried I would hurt him, so I tried to back up, but he hugged me even harder. I couldn't move... I didn't want to.

I have no idea how long we stayed like that, but I heard someone clear their throat behind me. It startled both of us, and Dean relaxed his grip enough so I could turn around. "Why don't you let me drop the bed guard, Mrs. Jackson? It would be more comfortable for both of you."

I felt Dean tense when Dr. Chow called me Jackson, but I was able to pull back while he lowered the rail and then lowered the whole bed, so I could sit on the side. "I thought this would make it more comfortable for both of you. Everything okay?" Dean and I were both crying, so a nod of the head was all we could offer. "Alright... I'll check back in a bit. Don't overdo things. Tomorrow is another day."

His message was simple and subtle. A reminder that this situation... our situation, wasn't going to be solved in one meeting. Out of pure instinct, I reached out with my hand and cradled his sunken cheek. We stared at each other, both of us fearful of speaking first, but I knew the onus was on me.

"I... I want you to know. No, check that. I need you to know that I hung on and waited." A sob escaped my lips. "I spent years sitting beside your bed, talking to you, reading to you. I needed you to come back to me... but you never did." I grasped his thin, wrinkled hand and brought it to my face.

I rubbed my cheek on his knuckles, eventually kissing his fingers. "I didn't want to let you go, but..." I stopped and let a deep breath escape my lungs. "Everyone said it was what's best... for me and for Deanna." His eyes flared at the mention of our daughter. "You'll be so proud of our girl, Dean. She looks like me, but she has your heart... your charisma." I allowed myself a smile. It was true. She was my only real connection to Dean all these years.

"Doth shh knaw me?" His speech was quiet and difficult to decipher. He saw my confusion and tried to repeat himself, more slowly. "Doth... Shh... Knaw... me?"

It finally registered! "Yes! Yes, of course. I mean, your pictures have been around her, her whole life. Your parents and I always talked about you. When she was old enough, we started bringing her to see you, until..." I had to pause to collect my thoughts. "Until she found it too hard. She didn't understand how the sleeping man could be her father. Our therapist said it wasn't in her best interest to force her. She said that in time she'd be in a better place to understand, so we made sure you were part of our daily lives through conversations."

He nodded as he understood, then his eyes focused on my very pregnant belly. Things had been tough enough to this point, but I knew it was only going to get tougher.

"I need you to know, Dean, that Jim and I didn't happen for almost six years. He was as devastated as I and your parents. He stepped up and made sure that Deanna and I were fine. He visited you as much as any of us. It... it cost him his relationship with Delila. She stuck it out for a few years and tried to be supportive as well, but she felt like she was fighting the ghost of you. None of us was ready to move on, and with Dee, we focused on her mental health, making sure you were still a part of her life. Anyway, after a couple of years, she broke down and said she couldn't live like this anymore. She felt like Jim would always blame himself for what happened to you and would live his life full of guilt. So, she broke things off with Jim and moved away. He took it hard, but wouldn't let any of that interfere with Dee and me."

I looked into his eyes and could see remnants of unfallen tears. For all the stress and emotional pain I was feeling, I couldn't imagine what Dean was dealing with. One day, you have everything. The next day, you wake up after eight years to learn you have a daughter that's turning nine, and your wife has moved on and married another man... your best friend... and is pregnant!

"Dean, I'm so sorry." I leaned forward to embrace him again, but he pushed back with his arms. It was subtle, but I could feel it.

He was looking away from me. "Too mush." He closed his eyes again. "Too mush."

His words were but a whisper, but they hit me hard. I held his hand a bit longer and kissed it before I placed it back by his side. "I can only imagine, hon... Dean. Maybe I should go?" With his eyes still closed, he nodded yes. "Okay... uhm... do you think you'd like Jim to stop by? I know he'd love to see you." He squeezed his eyes even tighter and slowly shook his head, no.

Dr. Chow entered the room at the perfect time. I had a feeling he was standing inside the room, out of sight. "I think we need to give Mr. Hampton some time to rest, Mrs. Jackson. Perhaps you can visit another day."

I knew I had to leave, but I couldn't get up. I couldn't leave. I don't know what I expected, but leaving Dean at this moment felt wrong. He needed someone to sit with him. No one should be alone with this much heartache, but alas, the decision was made for me.

"Come, Mrs. Jackson. I have a team of physiotherapists coming in to make their evaluations." He gently tugged my hand, prompting me to get up.

He walked me to the door, but before I passed the corner, I took one last look back at my former love. He was quietly sobbing. I hesitated, but the good doctor kept me slowly moving towards the door. We walked in silence to his office, where I had left Jim. He stopped me at the door and spoke his words of wisdom once again. "Be patient, Mrs. Jackson. There is so much healing to take place... for everyone. For now, you should focus on your daughter. I have a feeling that she will be pivotal in his progress."

The ride home was deathly silent. Jim knew better than to press me too soon. In fairness, I was still sorting and analyzing all the feelings I went through during my visit. My eyes remained focused on nothing in particular through the passenger window. "We have to talk to Deanna." I calmly spoke to the glass. I waited for a response from Jim, but the discussion was derailed by an incoming call.

"It's Barb. Do you want to answer it?" Jim looked to me for direction.

"Yeah." I turned my head towards him. "We should talk. Put it on Bluetooth."

"Hello?" Jim accepted the call.

"Jim? It's Barb. Are you with Valerie?"

"Yes, I am. She's sitting beside me in the car."

"Hi, dear. I just spoke with Dr. Chow. How are you, sweetheart?"

That was just like Barb. Always worried about everyone, even when her own world is upside down. "Hi, Barb. I'm..." I let out a loud sigh. "Oh, hell, I have no idea how I am right now. It was all so confusing and upsetting." I paused, trying to pick my words carefully. "Seeing him... like that. I can't imagine what he's feeling right now. His world, as he knew it, is all gone. How do you deal with something like that?"

"One day at a time, sweetheart. One day at a time." Jim and I looked at each other, letting her words sink in. "When do you plan to tell, Dee?"

"Soon." My voice cracked. "Jim and I were just discussing that very thing."

"I know you're nervous, honey, but she's a strong little girl. Like everyone else, it will just take time." An audible sniff came across the call. "We're off to see Dean. Let's stay in touch, dear."

"Of course, Barb. Thank you. Give our love to Peter."

Ten minutes later, we pulled into our driveway. When Jim turned off the car, we sat in silence for a few moments. "Val?" Jim started.

"Yeah, honey?"

"We're going to be okay, right? I mean, you and Dean..."

I was initially shocked by his question, but under the circumstances, it was not only relevant but also understandable. "Yes, honey. It's going to be weird for a while," I reached for his hand and squeezed it, "but we are the future." That seemed to break some tension, as his shoulders relaxed.

"I'll go get Dee from the neighbours. Did you want to do this now? Tonight?" Jim offered.

"I think it's best. We'll bring it up right after supper."

I was scraping the remnants of dinner into the trash and loading the dishwasher when Jim sat beside our daughter. "Hey, baby girl. Your mom and I need to talk to you about your father."

I could see the confusion on her face. "Aren't you my daddy?" There was concern in her voice.

"Yes, of course, baby girl. I am your daddy, but I was talking about your birth father. The man mom was married to before me."

"You mean the sleeping man?" I watched Jim nod his head. I could almost see the wheels turning in my little girl's head. "Is he dead?" A gasp escaped my lips at her innocent question.

"No... no, baby girl. Actually, it's much better news. He... he uhm... woke up... recently."

I had no idea what to expect. How does an eight-year-old react to something like this? I held my breath as her facial expression only gave the smallest hint about what her little mind was thinking. When she did speak, I never thought in a million years that her response would be what it was.

"Is he going to take me away? Is that why you're telling me?"

Both Jim and I were shocked. Why? Why would that be her first thought? My heart broke a little more in that moment. Thank God, Jim recovered quicker than I did. "What? No, no, no, sweetheart. He'd never do that." He pulled her in for a hug.

I walked away from the dishwasher and knelt beside her. "Him waking up is a good thing, baby. You'll finally get to meet your father." I stroked her hair. "You're so much like him, sweetie. He's going to be just tickled when he meets you."

"Do I have to?" She mumbled the way only a child could when they wanted to avoid something.

"Maybe not right away, honey, but soon. Think of it this way. If we told you that you had a brother that you had never seen before, would you want to meet him?" I tried to appeal to her in terms she could relate to.

"But I have a brother, and I will be meeting him soon." She patted my swollen stomach. It was terribly sweet and heartbreaking all at the same time.

"You know that your father and I were best friends before his accident, baby girl. He's going to love you instantly, and over time, you'll learn to love him too. As Mom said, you are like him in many ways, and we think you're awesome!"

Thankfully, Jim was able to find a way to soften the discussion. He was always good at helping people work through difficult moments. It was one of the first things I learned to love about him. With the talk not going anywhere I thought it would, Jim and I decided we needed to call Dr. Murphy. Jillian (Jill) Murphy knew Jim and me very well, as we relied heavily on her as we processed our lives together. She not only had history with us, but she also knew everything about our lives. Dean, Deanna, Dean's family, Jim's history... everything.

2 months later

"Hi, Mommy."

I smiled at Deanna. She was sitting at a table right beside Dean's bed. It looked like they were playing checkers. The simple sight choked me up inside. The realization that Dee and her real father were spending time together warmed my heart, yet slightly saddened me. Dr. Murphy said these emotions are normal, so I trust that they are.

"Someone looks like they're about to pop." Dean's eyes focused on my pregnant belly. His looks had become less troubling over time. I was only 4 days from my due date and knew he could come at any time.

"You look like you've put on weight... in a good way, that is." He smiled as I made the slight addendum.

Dean had made incredible progress in a short two months. His speech was clearer, and his ability to express himself through words had greatly increased. We suspect Dee had a lot to do with that. I remember how afraid she was the first time I brought her to meet her father. It was awkward and challenging. Dean's parents were strong enough for all of us and kept the process going with stories and snacks. Barb was like a walking treat factory, pulling endless stuff out of her purse.

"Time to go, sweetie." I smiled as she was visibly disappointed. "Nana is waiting for you, and she said she would take you to the cafeteria for an ice cream." That brought a smile out.

"Aren't you coming, Mommy?" She started packing up the game.

"I'll be along shortly. I just need to talk to your father for a minute. Okay?" Thankfully, she seemed fine with the arrangement. As soon as the game was packed up, she leaned over Dean's bed and gave him a tentative hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She whispered and skipped from the room.

Dean's face was a combination of love and pain. Clearly, he's enjoyed getting to know his daughter, but she still had a wall up, and I could tell he was struggling with the emotional separation she kept.

"She'll come around, Dean. She's talking about you more and more every day. I think her young brain doesn't know how to process all these feelings she's having."

A sad smile appeared on his face. "She's not the only one." I knew his comment wasn't meant to hurt me, but it stirred my guilt just enough. He shook the moment off and looked at me. "You wanted to talk?" He gestured to the empty chair beside his bed.

It took a moment, but I was able to guide myself onto the chair. I undid my coat and shrugged it from my shoulders. When I finished settling in, I looked at Dean, who had tears running down his face. "Oh my god, Dean? Are you okay?" I motioned to get up, but he waved me back into my seat.

It took a few minutes for him to compose himself, but his tears stopped as he blew his nose. Once that was completed, he leaned back into his bed and closed his eyes. "Sorry about that." He whispered.

"You never have to apologize to me, Dean. Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

"No, nothing like that." He kept his eyes closed. "Just a flash memory. I've been getting more of them lately."

"That's good, right? Dr. Chow said some things would come back eventually." He silently nodded his head. I don't know why, but I wanted to know what caused him to tear up. "Can you tell me what the memory was?"

It took a few moments. It was like he was trying to decide if he should share. "I walked into the bathroom. You had just gotten out of the tub and were drying off. I think you were about six months along with Dee..." His voice cracked. "God, you were so beautiful!" His words sounded exhausted. "It was the moment I knew I was the luckiest man on the planet. I married my best friend, and we were about to be parents..." He couldn't continue.

I remembered that moment immediately. I caught him staring at me from just inside the door. When I asked him what he was looking at, he simply said, "Perfection". The love in his eyes... in his voice, pierced my soul. A soul that was already woven to his. Suddenly all the emotional safeguards that Dr. Murphy helped me construct seemed insignificant. There was no denying what my heart was telling me, but it was too late.

I reached for his hand, squeezing his palm until he opened his hand and held mine back. "I remember that moment too, Dean." I quietly acknowledged it out loud. The connection was undeniable. The familiarity, the legacy, the love. I was almost lost in it when I finally regrouped and snapped out of it. "You and Dee seem to be finding a path together."

Mentioning his, our daughter brought him back to the present. He opened his eyes and turned his head towards me. His smile shot straight into my heart. He rarely smiled in the beginning, but since Dee started visiting, I would see it from time to time. While not as sharp and glowing as I remembered, it still gave me butterflies.

"You and my parents were right; she's amazing. You and Jim have done an awesome job with her."

I noticed that that was the first time he said Jim's name in my company. Despite some progress in certain areas, the topic of Jim was still a tough one. "Barb and Peter were instrumental too. I don't know what I would've done without your parents, Dean. They kept me together and were just what Dee needed to grow and flower."

He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. He was always close to his parents, but now more than ever. They were still holding things together, for all of us.

"Dean? I know you're not ready yet, but do you think you will eventually see your way to letting Jim come and visit? He's not the enemy in all of this. He stood by you as much as I did. He made sure the company stayed afloat and wouldn't even consider taking or buying my share... well, your share. He's been a rock to Dee and me. He's dying on the inside that you won't see him."

There were numerous things I could've added to my statement, but I always knew how to read Dean, and in this case... more wasn't better. Instead, I let the silence in the room insulate his thought process. Whatever he was toiling with mentally, I could tell he was really trying to figure out what the right words were to use.

"I understand that." He spoke, still staring up at the ceiling. "Mom and Dad have been very clear about how things developed and how, over time, they supported what was happening." He sighed heavily, like a weight was pressing down on his chest. "I guess... I mean... part of me is thankful that you didn't go through this alone. That he was there for you and Dee. I understand it also cost him his own relationship."

His words sounded encouraging. I knew that this situation was killing Jim, my husband. He thought he lost his best friend forever, and now that he's back... well, he understands how his position in my life looks contrary to being a good friend. He knows that their relationship will forever be affected, but being kept outside the room... outside the loop, was hurting my husband.

"I tried to explain it to my parents." Dean turned his head to look at me. "All of you have had 8 years to deal, mourn, and watch as life changed around you. I get that it took years to manifest, but..." His eyes turned colder. "For me it's been like waking up from a nightmare one evening. Except you realize that it's all real. Your best friend is not only fucking your wife and stealing her from you, but he also stole my daughter and raised her as his own." Tears began flowing down his face. "I KNOW it's not true, but it feels true to me. Everything I had in my life, that I had... that I loved... HE TOOK FROM ME!"

His outburst shocked me. Were we all so ignorant of what he just said? He was right, of course. Out of all of us, it took me the longest to move on and accept the changes in my romantic life... it was years! Poor Dean woke up thinking it was just a few days, not 8 years. No wonder he feels like he's been left in the dust, forced to swallow what we've been feeding him! I immediately stood up and embraced him. His whole body was shaking as he tried to control his emotional outburst. I didn't think it was possible, but my heart broke a little bit more.

"Shhhh... Shhhh." I whispered into his ear. "What can we do for you, Dean? What can I do?" I asked that question multiple times, hoping he could give me some guidance, but nothing came.

>>>>

It's been over two months since I last saw Dean. Two days after his emotional breakdown, I went into labour. Mathew arrived at a healthy 8.4lbs and although his skin colour made it obvious who his father was, he had many of Jim's features, including his eyes and dimples. I was worried that with so many years between babies that I would struggle all over again, but everything came back like comfortable muscle memory. Jim was over the moon excited and was driving me crazy being overly attentive. He loved and cared for Dee as his own, but the twinkle in his eyes left no doubt that this was altogether different.

I was nursing Mathew in the living room when Jim walked in with Barb following close behind. "Sweetie? You have a visitor." Barb slapped Jim's shoulder for his over-the-top introduction.

"That's quite enough, young man!" She teased Jim back.

"Hi, Barb. Did Pete come with you?" I genuinely would've liked to have seen him too.

She gently shook her head. "He knows how much the boob gets pulled out at this phase, and he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." The comment made us all laugh.

Jim excused himself, and Barb put her purse down and crowded the chair. "Peter thought it would be a good time to spend some time with Dean and Dee." I nodded in agreement. "Look at this handsome young man! My gosh, he is a spitting image of his daddy!"

I pulled my nipple from his sleepy mouth, tucked myself back in and looked at Barb. "Would you like the honours?" A wide smile broke out across her ageing face.

Like a duck to water, Barb tucked Mathew into her shoulder and gently bobbed up and down, gently patting his back. "Gosh, I miss this phase." She whispered to me. "They always grow up so fast."

I nodded in understanding, thinking about how quickly Deanna has grown. Inevitably, my thoughts went back to Dean. "How's Dean doing?" As soon as I asked my question, Mathew burped and farted simultaneously, causing us both to giggle.

Barb took a few more minutes to answer. "He's... well, he's doing the best he can. Looks like he'll be coming home to live with us in a few days."

"Barb? What's he going to do? Where's he going to live?" I was genuinely worried. I had sold our house when Jim and I got married. The lawsuit money had been used to pay for his palliative care. "Jim is thinking of offering Dean a buy-out of his share. It would be a substantial amount of money. It would help him..." I stopped before I could finish the sentence.

"Get on with his life." Barb finished it for me. "It would make sense. I can't see him going back to work ever. Even if he could, I'm not sure he could remain partners with Jim."

"It's not his fault, Barb." I was defensive of my husband.

"It's nobody's fault, dear. Heck, if you wanted to affix fault, there would be enough to go around for all of us. No... we made rational decisions with the situation and information we had in front of us. Dean's mad at everyone, including me and his father. He's just too polite to say it out loud. I believe he knows that it's misplaced, but the therapist says he needs someplace to channel his pain."

I quietly let that tidbit of information sink in. When I wasn't being a new mom, my thoughts kept returning to Dean and the last time we spoke. I know deep down that feeling guilty isn't overly productive for anyone, but holding my ex-husband like that stirred up so many emotions... including the love we shared.

"How are you, dear?" Barb's question jolted me back to the present.

"You know. Tired. Looking forward to dropping the weight."

Barb stopped rocking and gave me a deadpan look. "No, really. How are you doing, honey?" The intent of her question was loud and clear.

I looked out the window and saw Jim walk by, pushing the lawnmower. I could feel Barb's eyes resting on me... waiting. "I never stopped loving him, Barb. It was hard to move forward, but with support from you and Pete," I sighed. "And Jim was so understanding. He never expected me to relinquish my love for Dean. Not only did he understand it, but he respected it. In essence, I was in love with two men. One I could no longer be with and one whom I could move on with. But..." I choked up and stopped talking.

"Things have changed." She finished my sentence again. Barb handed me my sleeping Mathew and sat beside me on the couch. Her right hand rested on my leg. "I can't imagine what you're dealing with, sweetheart. It was like everything was finally going to be okay, and then... boom." She flexed her fingers to mimic an explosion.

Without even thinking about it, the words just flew out of my mouth. "I still love him." It took me a moment to realize what I just admitted. What I just admitted to the mother of the man I was once married to.

To her credit, Barb said nothing. She simply wrapped her arms around my son and me and rocked us like she rocked Mathew earlier. Emotionally, I was a wreck. Saying the words that I kept bottled up and under safe keeping stirred me deeply. My love for Dean was clearly not a secret, but when I said it out loud, I felt the first real doubt that my marriage to Jim would be okay. I quietly struggled with my dark emotions, as Barb stroked my hair and soothed me like her own child.

>>>>

It was Dee's birthday. She was turning nine, or 16, depending on your take of her attitude. Mathew was now four months old and had become a major focus of my daughter's time. She loved having a baby brother, and quickly turned to mothering him in my brief absences. Jim was still as excited as he was the day he was born, but today I could see the stress on his face, even with his dimpled smile. I... well, we, all knew why. Deanna made it clear that she wanted Dean to be present at her very first shared birthday. There was no way Dean would ever decline such an offer, but we all knew the hidden subtext of a storyline we've successfully kept Dee mostly ignorant of. It's been over six months, and the two former best friends have never said a word to each other. Hell, they've never been in the same room since Dean awoke from his coma.

I did not doubt that neither man was interested in doing anything to mar their daughters' special day, but the unspoken, unfinished business between the two loomed large. Other than the odd parent of one of Dee's friends, the adults consisted of Jim and me, my parents, and thankfully, Peter and Barb. I love my folks, but they have been completely hands-off throughout this whole situation, going back as far as my marriage to Jim. Barb had arrived early, knowing I was in need of both physical and emotional help.

I was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window, when I felt a presence behind me. A gentle set of arms wrapped around my shoulder. "It's okay to breathe, dear." Barb lightly chuckled.

I let out a deep breath I wasn't even aware I was holding. "Oh, Barb." I turned to look at her. "I feel like I'm going to be sick." Her smile faltered enough for me to know she truly understood what I was feeling.

"This isn't an intervention, honey. I know my son and Jim well enough to know that they will bend over backwards to keep this day focused on Deanna. Neither of them wants a confrontation, trust me."

"I know." I agreed. "But... this is huge. Right?"

Barb grabbed my hands and held them tightly. "In some ways, honey, this is no different than what we had to deal with years ago. Life goes on. It has to. It's up to us to accept that and learn how to navigate the stormy weather when it comes at us." She paused to consider her next words. "If you think of it this way, what better way could be the start of this next chapter than during Deanna's special day? She adores them both. It's as neutral a setting as you could have tried to imagine." She was right, of course, but I still felt like my guts were being spun in opposite directions. "Nothing gets decided today, dear. It's just the first step of many to come."

My affection for this woman and Peter was without boundaries. Can you secretly wish someone else were your parents? Too Late. I've done it hundreds of times already. Peter came into the kitchen and wrapped his big arms around both of us. It was something Dean would've done.

"Dean's outside, getting his bearings. He'll be in shortly." He whispered to the two of us.

"How's he doing?" The question shot out of my mouth before I even identified the words.

Peter pulled back and put his arm around Barb's shoulders. "As best as he can, Honey. Just like the rest of us." No truer words were ever spoken.

By the time I had finally got my emotions under control, Jim was playing a version of charades with Dee and her friends. The few adults were standing around the perimeter of the room, chuckling at the frantic voices of the girls screaming out answers. Jim was being overly animated and goofy, which made everyone laugh even harder. Suddenly, he stopped amid one of his movements and stared at the front entrance. A collective gasp of silence overtook the party as Dean had finally entered the house. It was likely seconds, but it felt like eternity.

"Daddy!" Dee bolted from the group and wrapped her arms around Dean's waist, giving him a huge hug.

I think everyone appreciated the diversion from that heavy moment. Soon, she was introducing her newer dad to all of her friends. Thankfully, we had put in the time to explain things to all the parents, and they had coached their kids well. I watched as Jim stared at his long-lost best friend. I could feel his pain from across the room, and just as I moved towards him, he quietly exited the living room under the guise of getting more snacks. I caught Dean's eye and could read his discomfort just as easily.

"I'll go see if he needs a hand." Barb came up from behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder as she walked by.

I walked over to Dean and helped extricate Dee from his hip. He was using a cane now, and while he's become more mobile, he still has balance issues. "Hey hu... uhm, Dean." Like muscle memory, I almost called him honey. "I'm glad you could make it. Can I get you something?"

He always had the best smiles. Some were friendly, some were goofy, some were suggestive, but this one was hard to place. "Uh... actually, a glass of water would be great."

"How about a bottle?"

"Even better. Thank you." I patted his arm and set off to the kitchen

Barb and Jim were talking quietly when I entered. They stopped momentarily. "Everything okay?" I looked at them.

"We're fine, dear." Barb looked at Jim as she answered for both of them.

Once I pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, I walked over to my husband and hugged him. I could tell he was trying very hard to keep his emotions under control. As I released him, he finally looked at me.

"He... he looks so different. Yet, he looks just how I remembered him." My eyes scanned his as I tried to figure out what he was thinking. "I mean, he's skinnier, but I can still see the real Dean. Does that make sense?"

I nodded my head and hugged him again. Barb gave him a side hug. "He's got a long way to go, but you're right, Jim. I see it too." She whispered.

Realizing that I promised Dean a water, I asked if they needed my help, but once they cleared me, I headed back to the living room. I was confronted with a sight that momentarily stopped my heart. My mother was talking to Dean. That in itself wasn't the shocker. She was holding Mathew, and Dee was standing close by, playing with the sock on his foot. Dean couldn't take his eyes off of Mathew. No doubt he wasn't hearing a single word my mother was saying.

"It's good to see you up and around, Dean."

I cut in. "Mom, could you check Mathew's diaper for me?" At first she looked miffed that I cut her off, but she finally shrugged it off.

"What do you say, sweetie? Want to help Grandma check for poopies?" Unlike most 9-year-olds, Dee happily followed my mother.

I looked at Dean as his eyes followed them as they left the room. "Uh, here's your water, Dean." He raised his hand, but his eyes still followed Dee.

When I placed the water in his hands, he finally looked at me. "Thanks, Val." He took a sip. "They're close." He stated. "Dee and Mathew." He finished.

"Yeah. She's got a strong maternal instinct."

"Like her mother." He smiled. "Uh... Mathew. He... he's a handsome-looking boy. Gonna be a real lady killer when he gets older."

I had no idea what to say, so I simply nodded my head. "I... uh, think Jim needs my help getting the cake ready."

"Of course. Duty calls." He smiled.

Why was this so hard?

If you didn't look for the awkward moments, the rest of the party went off without a glitch. Deanna had a great time and received a boatload of gifts and attention. As I helped Dee say good-bye to her friends, it hit me that Jim was nowhere to be found. I looked over at Barb, and like she could read my mind, she walked towards me.

"If you're looking for Jim, he and Dean are outside on the back deck... talking."

"What! When did that happen?" I was about to sprint into the kitchen, but Barb gently held my arm.

"It's okay, dear. Peter is sitting at the kitchen table, keeping an eye on them. Peter saw them talking, and when they headed outside, he let me know he was going to make coffee and watch from a distance.

My heart was in my throat. My breathing became laboured enough that Barb slowly escorted me back to the couch. My mother surprised me with Mathew. The distraction was effective and welcomed. "I think he's hungry again, Valerie." My mother was never one for terms of endearment. I can't remember a single time she called me anything other than Valerie.

Dee and her grandmothers cleaned up the living room as I nursed Mathew. With the bulk of the work completed, my parents made a quick exit after hugging Dee and waving at the rest of us. Barb looked at me but said nothing. She's known my parents long enough to know that they will avoid anything uncomfortable in any manner that passes as polite. She sat with me, and we talked about the party, Dee, Mathew, and of course, the fact that Dean and Jim were talking.

"Things are tough right now, but this will only lead to better things... eventually." Her sentiment was sound, but it still didn't remove the knot from my stomach.

Mathew became fussy, likely due to my stress levels. Barb assisted me by taking him. While I put his snack back in its holster, Dean limped by. He was so quiet, we almost missed him. "Dean?" I called out.

He stopped for a moment but never took his eyes off the floor. "Honey? Is everything okay?" Barb jumped in.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just really tired. Uh... Can you hug Dee for me? I'll call her later." With that, he walked, limped out the door.

Barb looked back at me, and I'm sure my worried look was obvious. Before she could address me, Peter walked into the living room, looking like he too was spent. "I'm going to take him home. I'll come back and get you, honey." He looked at me. "I think you should check on your husband, dear." I stood up quickly, but he quickly diffused my concern. "Physically, he's fine. All they did was talk, but if the look on Dean's face is any indication, I suspect Jim could use the support."

I quickly looked at Barb, as she held a sleeping Mathew. "Go on, dear. I got this little man, and I'll get Dee to help me. I have the kids; go be with your husband."

I wanted to cry. They were such amazing people! I thanked her and gave Peter a quick peck on the cheek before he left to drive Dean back home. I walked into the kitchen and slowed as I approached the patio doors. There he was, sitting on the top stairs of our deck, facing the backyard. His head was slouched forward, buried in his hands. I carefully slid the door and closed it behind me. I walked carefully and quietly until I was beside him. When I sat down beside him, I could hear it. He was crying. I don't know how many more times my heart could break like this!

I curled myself around him and held him as he went through his stages of grief. We've all had months to deal with our first interactions with Dean. He was forced to play catch-up all at once. Time had no substance as we sat together. I waited him out until I felt the opportunity to speak was warranted.

"Are you okay, Jim?"

He shook his head in his hands. "No. Not even close."

"When you're ready, I'm here to listen."

He finally lifted his face from his hands; the view was disheartening. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Even the skin around his nose looked irritated and red. He looked off into the distance and began to speak with a voice that initially cracked.

"He called me a thief." That statement took a lot out of him, as he tried to restart himself. "He... he told me..." He paused again. "He told me that he'll never stop loving you. That he'll never give up hope."

I felt something inside me shift. I couldn't put my finger on what it was. It was deep, painful, and if I'm being honest... unsettling. I wrapped him up in my arms, rocking like a mother instinctually does.

Later that evening, when our house was empty and the kids were down for the night (or 4 hours for Mathew), Jim and I sat on the loveseat and talked at length about his time with Dean. He assured me there was no yelling or name-calling. Dean was honest with his feelings, and Jim did his best to explain how things developed the way they did. It was clear Dean understood the truth and reality of those eight years; however, he fundamentally could not just forgive and forget. As Jim explained it, Dean said he doesn't hate him, but he can't be around him. Jim represents every change that turns Dean's world upside down, and his heart just doesn't have the capacity to look the other way. It was the same as he's expressed to everyone he's opened up to. It was clear that whatever special friendship the two men had had was gone forever. Replaced with a sterile version of an occasional acquaintance, that you could do without seeing very often.

Later on, after a brief two hours of sleep, I was in Mathew's room nursing him. My talk with Jim was both exhausting and unfruitful. I had nothing to add to make him feel better, and the more we spoke about things, the more confused I got. Jim was incredibly paranoid that Dean would win me back, just by existing. He claimed our connection was too real... too perfect. I tried to downplay those feelings, but deep down they did pull on some once-dormant strings. I never considered another man other than Dean, right from the beginning. Not a stray thought or a lingering doubt. He was, as they say, my soulmate. I truly believed that, and even when I felt convinced to move on from him, there was still a piece that remained tied to him forever. I suppose, if he had died, that tie wouldn't have the same weight on my future. Knowing that he was still, technically, alive and breathing was always enough to keep my hopes alive, if hidden.

It wasn't the first time the thought entered my brain these past months, but sitting here in the dark, I was having some real emotions. I denied and tried very hard to keep these thoughts from creeping into my psyche. Doing so would only cause more pain... more suffering. Try as I may, I could no longer deny my feelings that, perhaps, marrying Jim wasn't the right thing to do. Mathew had fallen asleep, and as I looked across his sweet, innocent face, my tears began to fall.

6 months later...

I was just returning home with Dee, who had spent the entire day with Dean and his folks. I was getting home a little later than expected. I had gone inside to get Dee and ended up spending another two hours with them. It was all so familiar and comfortable. Dean was laughing more as his relationship with our daughter only got closer. Sometimes she didn't want to leave, and that caused the occasional friction between her and me. Nothing serious, and we were able to talk our way through the issues eventually. Today, she threw me a curveball that no slugger would've seen coming.

"Mommy? Do you think Daddy could live with us? I know he wants to get out of Grandma and Grandpa's house."

Initially, my mouth had gone dry, but eventually I gathered enough saliva to speak. "Oh, sweetie. I don't think that would be a good idea. You know how difficult things are between your two dads."

"But, growing up, Daddy Jim told me they were best friends. Why aren't they friends anymore?"

"Well..." Shit! How do you explain this to a 9-year-old? "You know that I used to be married to Dean, right? Well, when he got injured, and we didn't know if he would ever wake up... well, Jim and I got closer and eventually fell in love."

A glance at my daughter's face confirmed she was trying to understand my words. She remained silent for a few moments. "So, you loved Daddy before he got hurt." She turned towards me. "Do you still love him?" Before I could muster an answer, she carried on. "Can you love more than one person, Mommy? I know they both love you."

"How do you know that? What have you been talking about at Nana and Papa's house?" She giggled... the little brat, actually giggled!

"I asked Nana one day, and she said that was a question for my Daddy to answer. So, I asked him." She smiled at me like she was the smartest person in the car.

"I see. Well, I think it is possible to love more than one person, but there should be only one person whom you love the most. That's the person you spend your life with."

"So, you love Daddy Jim more than Daddy Dean? Is that because Daddy Dean slept for so long?"

I honestly don't know how, but I was able to speak in circles enough to answer her question without answering it directly. While many a politician might have been impressed, I hated having to do it. Thankfully, Dee was out the car door the moment I put it in park. She bolted inside to see her little brother. With a few bags around my arms, I followed behind more slowly and found Dee on the floor playing with Mathew, and Jim standing beside the couch watching the reunion.

Things have been tense between Jim and me for quite some time. Our sex life had dropped off considerably as well. Initially, I chalked it up to post-delivery and recovery, but in truth neither of us was pursuing the other very hard. The look on Jim's face told me that things hadn't changed.

"You're late." His statement was void of anger or accusation. He was simply stating a fact.

"Yeah, sorry. She didn't want to leave, and then I got caught up with Peter and Barb."

He nodded his head in acceptance of my excuse. "How's Dean?" That question sounded a little more loaded. His tone had risen just enough for me to notice.

"He's good. He's still using the cane, likely a permanent thing now." I tried to answer as casually as I could. Dean's recovery was slow and steady. He was having some issues with some of his internal organs, but I never probed for details. Not everything about him was better, but he was reminding me of the man I knew before his accident.

Jim looked at me, analyzing my statement. He simply nodded his head. "I'm sure he'll prove everyone wrong again. Supper's in the oven, staying warm. I guess we should eat." He left for the kitchen, leaving me with an awkward feeling.

Dinner was manageable, thanks to Dee. If she could sense any of the awkwardness, she didn't show it. She entertained us with stories, jokes, and still found the time to help Mathew with his food. It was adorable and a welcome break from whatever Jim and I were dealing with. The night carried on, and when Dee was finally asleep and Mathew down for the night, I walked into the living room, where Jim had hunkered down during the nighttime rituals of getting the kids to bed.

"You okay?" I asked.

My question was initially met with silence. I knew he heard me, so I waited for a response. "Actually? No." He looked up at me. "We need to talk, Val. You should sit."

Nothing good ever came from the sentence... we need to talk. I carefully sat on the couch and turned towards him. I had a sinking feeling this was going to be tough.

"Do you love me, Val?" Before I could answer the obvious, he put up his hand. "I'm not looking for answers you think I want, Val. I need honesty. Please, give me that."

I swallowed and licked my dry lips. "Yes, Jim. I love you." My voice was firm without cracks.

He nodded. "Do you still love Dean?"

He wanted honesty, so I gave it to him. "Yes, Jim. I still love Dean. You know that."

"I mean... are you in love with him?"

"What's the difference?" I was a little more defensive than I should've been.

Jim exhaled heavily. "Val. I was able to live with the memory of Dean. I love the man like a brother, and his being in our life was doable."

"When he was in a coma, you mean." I quickly interjected.

"Yes. When he was in a coma, we were reliving memories... good memories. Now that he's back, I can feel you slipping away, Val. When you first visited him, I asked you point-blank if we were going to be okay, and you quickly said we were the future. Do you still believe that? If I asked you to walk away from Dean with no more interactions, would you do that... for me, for us?"

"Jim! What you're asking isn't possible! Dee is his daughter, and he deserves to be a big part of her life! She's developing a true relationship with him! How can we cut him out now?"

"Wait a minute! I didn't suggest we remove him from Dee's life. I asked if you would remove him from yours."

Of course, he said it that way, but I immediately interpreted it as an all-or-nothing request. "I... I don't see how that could happen without impacting Dee." I offered weakly.

"Impacting Dee, or impacting you?" He leaned towards me. "People get divorced all the time, Val. They're able to co-parent without being involved with each other."

"I didn't divorce Dean because we fell out of love, Jim. I did it as an attempt to move on!"

Jim shook his head slowly from side to side. My words had unsettled him greatly. "There it is." He whispered. "That's the big question, isn't it, Val? Did you? Did you move on? Truly?"

I was already forming my next sentence when that simple question crushed me. Did I? Did I really move on? I thought I had. I thought having a baby would put any latent concerns to rest, and it did. At least it did until Dean woke up. I shivered with the revelation of what I tried to keep buried and under control. I denied its origin to keep the status quo. To keep the people around me happy. To keep Dee happy. But there it was... laid bare by the simple questions of my now-husband. I wanted Dean back in my life. Initially, it was all smothered in good intentions for Deanna, but as time went on, I could clearly see that I also wanted access to Dean. I needed him to be a part of my life again. I thought I could balance it all and keep everyone happy, but clearly I've done more damage than I wanted to admit.

Despite that revelation, I still tried to smooth the waters. "Jim..." I was crying now, so the words came slowly. "This... this situation. There's no manual. I... I'm trying my best to do what's right for everyone. Don't you see?"

"What I see is a woman who is clinging to a memory. I know, in some way, you love me, Valerie. I know you tried, and without you, Mathew would never have been born." Jim was crying as well. "BUT... but I can't do this anymore. I can't compete with the living version of your one true love. Maybe if he never awoke, we would have made it." He slowly stood up and looked down at me. "I can't, nor will I, compete for your heart, Val."

The words were so final. The emotions rattled my soul as my crying burst like a dam. I struggled to catch my breath between sobs, dropping my face into my hands. I could feel Jim's hand on my shoulder, still trying to comfort me after all of these years. Before he walked away, I felt him kiss the top of my head. I wanted to respond, to say something, but I had lost any ability to speak. I could vaguely hear his cadence making his way upstairs. Part of me wanted to run after him, yet another part told me... it was inevitable.

18 years later...

I felt his warm, large hand caress my shoulder as we sat in the backseat of the black Lincoln. "You okay, Dee?"

I let my head rest on the broad shoulder of my husband, Byron. He had been nothing short of a miracle these past few months. My rock. When we first got married, it was like my childhood fairytale had come true. I'd dated a few guys before I met Byron, but none of them had the fortitude to stick around. My family life has been one for the books, and it wasn't everyone's cup of tea. I never held any ill will toward those men before Byron. My weird family and I were a package deal. It was that simple.

"Yeah. I'm just not looking forward to this." I sighed quietly. His grip tightened ever so slightly, like a protective move. My poor husband had nothing to say. What could he say? Instead, he left me alone with my thoughts, silently letting me know he was there for me.

Eight months ago, my family all gathered, but for much happier reasons. My little brother graduated high school, and he had an entire army cheering him as he crossed the stage to the podium. Class Valedictorian, a picture on the school's honor wall, the only athlete in the school's history to win State... twice. He had a full athletic scholarship to UCLA, but we all knew his dream to be an orthopedic surgeon would be his primary focus. He had the auditorium in stitches with laughter, only to bring the majority to tears when he talked about his family. He singled me out... his big sister DD, as the glue that kept him together when times were tough. And trust me, there were some tough times. Byron acted like he was offended that Mathew could call me DD. It was his first words. Nobody else called me DD unless they wanted a thorough tongue-lashing. I hated that short form. Mathew was the only one who could call me that and get away with it. The truth was, I loved that he did.

Mom and Dad were there. It was a rare outing for him. He had been back in palliative care for almost a year, but he swore he wouldn't miss Mathew's big day, and he delivered. Jim was there, of course, with his wife Jeanie and their daughter April. April was a little introverted but beautiful. Like, slam your brakes, twist your neck, rear-end the car in front of you, beautiful! She and Mathew had more in common because of their ages, but she accepted me as her older, weird white sister.

I was drawn back to that fateful night when my mom and Jim began their separation. Yeah, I was sitting on the top of the stairs and heard the whole thing. Up until that moment, I had no idea there were any problems. Sure, things between my dad and Jim were obvious, but it didn't seem to be that big a deal... until that night. Hearing their words, filled with so much pain, I felt like my eyes were opened for the first time. I suppose I grew up pretty quickly in that moment. Subconsciously, I knew I had to. For my baby brother and for me.

I remember crying uncontrollably the day Jim moved out. I was so angry! Angry at everyone. Mom, Dad, Jim, Nana, and Papa. I was even angry at school, which got me into some fights. Fights that I started. Right after that, I was seeing a therapist weekly. In fact, we all were. Sometimes Mom and I. Occasionally, Dad was sitting in too. One time it was all of us... even including Jim. It was weird. No one outright hated anyone, but there was so much pain and resentment to work through.

It took time, but I'd like to think we all improved. Mom and Dad were back together, trying to rebuild what was ripped away from them so many years ago. My anger slowly turned to pride. I was beginning to see how deeply they loved each other, and it gave me a perspective on love that set the bar pretty fucking high. It wasn't all rainbows and unicorns, that's for sure. Dad could never work again. Not only did he have physical limitations, but his brain was also impacted. His short-term memory was hit-and-miss, and at times he would have to stop talking because the words would just disappear. Internally, many of his organs were struggling to function properly. The hidden effects caused by the length of his coma were no longer hidden.

Being a nosy teenager, I overheard many of their 'secret' talks. Some of the information made me smile, yet others made me sad. Overhearing that my father was having problems responding to sexual stimuli was heartbreaking. But hearing my mother's resolve and unflinching support was the foundation of what I learnt to be love. Nobody would have ever guessed there was an issue in their bedroom. Her connection to my dad never faltered in public or in private. My mother was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. Not perfect. Just solid.

She and Jim were more than amicable after the divorce, which helped Mathew develop into the type of man you felt honoured to be around. Yeah, I got him placed very high up on a pedestal. He was the beacon that held us all together, even if he had no idea. As an infant, he was primarily with us, but as he got older, he would spend more time with Jim. I think we were all worried about how Mathew and my Dad would get on, but it turned out to be a nothingburger. Even when he was old enough to understand everything, he never flinched. My Dad, to him, was like Jim was to me. I don't call Jim Dad anymore, but he's still a big part of my life.

When Jim married Jeannie, it almost made things easier. Jeannie is amazing! She walked into his life and effortlessly navigated the complexity of our family's dynamic and fit like she was there the whole time. I don't want to give you the impression that we were doing regular big family get-togethers or BBQ's. Almost like distant acquaintances, they maintained a congenial relationship, while Mathew and I bounced back and forth between them.

I suppose that my wedding was the first true test of our eclectic units. They shared a table at the reception, which was a huge step. But the biggest thing was when my Dad agreed, with no hesitation at all, that I could have both of them walk me down the aisle. My Dad teased that it was a good idea in case he fell, but I knew he made his decision with his heart. Mathew's graduation was the next big test, as four proud parents sat side by side and shed an awful amount of tears. It was almost embarrassing, but I was crying too, so there's that. We were all gathered in the foyer waiting for Mathew when I saw Dad and Jim off to the side, talking. I tapped my mom's shoulder to get her attention. We watched as they quietly conversed, wondering what was being said. There was no tension, and I could see them both smile from time to time. Then... out of nowhere, my dad stepped forward and hugged Jim. Jim was surprised at first, but he quickly reciprocated. Both my mom and I gasped at the sight, causing everyone around us to look. I later grilled my dad about the conversation, but he simply smiled and said it was between him and Jim.

As I said, I am a nosy daughter, and I wanted to know what they talked about. Sadly, I found out 5 weeks later, at my dad's funeral. He had developed so many complications due to his lengthy coma that his poor body could no longer cope. I was devastated, but my poor mother was destroyed. She lost the love of her life, for a second time. However, this time was truly permanent. Nana and Papa were old, but they were still full of life, and once again, they became our rock. My mom's parents (who I barely knew) said the right things and made the phone calls, but couldn't step up and be there for their daughter. It was both sad and angering.

Mathew and I did a little speech, honouring my father. I stopped so many times; I almost walked away, but Mathew held my arm and whispered the encouragement I needed to continue. Just before the minister could bring the service to an end, Jim spoke up and asked to say a few words. Most funeral services are quiet, but the whole church went silent. Even the mice in the rafters.

I know, I'm the last person you'd expect to see up here, but I felt compelled to talk... about Dean. Dean was the salt to my pepper. We made everything better, including each other. When Dean suffered his accident, I... I wanted to die. I blamed myself for something I had no control over. As much as I wanted to roll over and give up, I knew a person who was worse off than me. So, I made a promise to my unconscious brother that I would make sure his family would be okay.

Like everyone else, I held out hope that he would come back to us. I prayed like I never prayed before. We visited and did all the things people do when they try to communicate with a loved one in that situation. As the years went by, things changed, and I felt I needed to do more. More turned into a marriage that perhaps should not have happened. Not because there wasn't love, because there was. But... it was but a mere shadow of what their love was before all of this. Still... wrong decision or not, I have no regrets. That marriage gave us Mathew, and that's when I grew as a person, a parent, and these things made me a better human being.

When I first saw Dean, after he had woken from his coma, he called me a thief. His words wounded me deeply, but in reflection, I understood how he could feel that way. Any other man would have hated me... despised me, but he never used those words. He just simply couldn't be around me. Sadly, I began to fear him. Not because he was a threat to me personally, but because his love for his wife and daughter was... was... God, I'm sorry, but every word I consider using seems so pathetic. It radiated off of him, like the rays of the sun.

The fear was unfounded, because it was inevitable. I knew that I stood in the way of something truly magnificent. I knew Deanna would always be in my life, and of course, I had Mathew. Through all of this, Dean was honorable and compassionate. In other words, he was being typical Dean. When I found my reason to radiate, I finally understood the error in my efforts to help my friend.

Not too long ago, at our son's graduation, Dean pulled me aside. After a brief moment of congratulating each other, he caught me off guard. He said, "I'm so sorry for what I put you through, Jimmy. At the cost of your own happiness, you stepped in and did what only a best friend could do. Even marrying Valerie. If I were looking down from heaven, I would've smiled the smile of a lifetime, knowing my wife and daughter were in the hands of the only man I trusted. Sometimes I wish I never came back. Not because I didn't want to see my family, but because I didn't want to hurt you. Please forgive me for that."

I remember the church was filled with the sounds of quiet coughs, sniffing, and the occasional sob. It took Jim several minutes to get his emotions under control enough to continue.

He said, "I know I don't have much time left, Jimmy. I need to know that whatever burden you still may carry, I've long forgiven. I hope you can forgive me too. I love you dearly, and when I'm in heaven (I hope), I will watch over you and your family, as if it were my own."

"You okay, baby?" Byron's voice brought me back to the present.

"Uh, yeah. I was just thinking of Dad's funeral." He sighed heavily and kissed me on the head.

We pulled up in front of the same church where we had recently said goodbye to my father. Byron guided me up the stairs and through the doors with care and precision. We sat down beside Mathew, who hugged me like it was the last time we'd ever see each other. There were no words. There were none worthy to be spoken. Thankfully, the minister began his thing, walking us through the whole death only leads to life speech.

When it was time, Mathew and I made our way up the pulpit. I shivered with the recent memory of just being here. I wiped my eyes and looked at my husband and then over to my brother. Both were feeding me as much positive energy as they could muster through a look. I looked a little further and saw Jim and Jeanette sitting right behind with their beautiful daughter. Mathew put his hand on my shoulder, reminding me I had to do what needed to be done. I took a series of deep breaths, cleared my tight throat, and began my short speech.

"They say cancer is a silent killer... and they're right. No one knew my mom was even sick until the day she collapsed. They gave her six months... she made it to five. I can't help wondering if we knew... if she knew, would that have made a difference? My mom... gosh... our mom," I looked at my brother, "was the strongest person I knew. Not strong for a woman, but strong period. She had a heart full of compassion and love. Her heart had to be bigger than normal, because loving was her sole purpose. Mathew and I knew, without a doubt, that our mom was right behind us, guiding us through with a lens filled with love. Watching her with my father was love on steroids. It's that memory that drives me to be like her. To love, with no excuses... like her. Maybe it was the cancer..." I had to stop for a moment, to push the grief back down. "But I knew much of our Mom's fight left her when my dad passed. If it was a fair fight, I would bet on our mother every... single... time. But cancer doesn't fight fair. My mom's greatest strength, her huge heart, had been broken with the loss of her husband, my Dad. She loved that man in ways that cannot be defined." Another pause.

"So, I will grieve her loss heavily. She wasn't just a mom but my best friend. However, I treasure the thought that my Mom and Dad will now be together forever. No cancer, no broken-down body. It's how I vow to remember them. Now and until I see them again."