Meena #34

Days and nights rolled by until I lost count. I sat by Meena’s bed all night, showered in the morning, and returned to her side, trying to catch up on work when I could. Each morning brought hope; each night dashed it. This day was no different, with no hint that the tide would turn and my dream of seeing Meena awake would come true. It happened in the most ordinary way imaginable, with none of the drama of machine volume rising to a crescendo or doctors and nurses flinging helter-skelter, shooing me out. I was busy on my laptop, sending and responding to emails, when the private investigator sent pictures to my phone. They showed Hawa’u and my PA at a car park, and whatever they were discussing looked important. My PA looked stressed, while Hawa’u looked angry, with a look I had never seen on her face. It bordered on evil.

I had long stopped trying to decipher Hawa’u, but I wished many times that she wasn’t Meena’s friend. I didn’t trust her, but she never gave me any reason not to. I had tried, as she was Meena’s friend for a decade, but there was just no love left between us, and Meena had long given up on making us more than casual acquaintances. I kept my distance from Hawa’u despite her being in my wife’s life as a strong pillar. Sa’a, the third in their trio, was a rare gem. The lady was grace and sweetness personified. I was glad Meena had her in her life, and she was the one person who balanced their friendship. She was always on my side, defending me, as I had heard from Meena, while Hawa’u was the devil’s advocate, but I was not surprised. If I wasn’t being over the top, I could sense Hauwa’u in the earlier days coming on to me, but there were always mixed signs until I gave up trying to understand her. She was a complex character. She was Meena’s friend and the one who encouraged Meena to go out with me, and I am grateful to her for that. Because that gave me the short window to prove to Meena that she was my forever love and remove all her insecurities.

I reached for my phone to speak to the private investigator when Meena’s croaked voice broke the silence. I lifted my head so suddenly I must have had whiplash; I still had time to put my laptop away, though I couldn’t remember doing it. Still, it sat on the chair beside me, evidence that I had. I rushed to Meena’s side, and though it was not far from where I sat, every second and every inch of distance felt like forever. I held her hands and motioned for her not to speak, as her voice was so weak. “I love you, Meena, I love you,” I kept saying over and over, unaware that the tears were pouring down my face onto my beard until I saw them on her face. She tried to speak again, but this time no words came. Then I saw the flicker of panic in her eyes. To reassure her, I said, “The baby is doing well, and so will you,” but at the mention of the baby, her eyes widened in confusion, and the panic intensified, immediately replaced with fear as she tried to raise herself and failed. Every second revealed a flood of emotions flickering in her eyes. At that moment, I quickly pressed the button to alert the nurses, which I had failed to do when she first opened her eyes.

The doctors and nurses appeared in Meena’s room immediately. The doctor asked Meena questions, gently asking if she felt pain anywhere and where, or whether she could feel as he touched her body—asking her to blink if she felt anything. I could see the exhaustion on her face from such a small task, but I didn’t want to give in to the worry building in my head about what could go wrong. They gave her injections, adjusted her drip, and I watched her eyes droop as she fell asleep. It all could have taken up to 15 minutes, but I held my breath, and it felt like a lifetime. Most of the time, she blinked at the doctor’s questions, and I took that to be a good sign. Once she had drifted to sleep, I could not wait to ask the doctor if she would be okay now that she was awake, which was what we had been waiting for. The doctor gave no sign. He had that poker face that says everything and nothing. “She’ll be fine,” the doctor responded. “We’ll carry out other tests once she’s awake and fully rested. She is out of the coma, and that is a good sign.” I casually mentioned to the doctor how she panicked when I mentioned the baby, but what was concerning was the confusion and fear I saw in her eyes rather than relief. The doctor was thoughtful but said little as he scribbled on his note. “We’ll check that too when she wakes up, but it is too early to draw any conclusions.”