I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

He doesn’t. He’s elsewhere, in another castle, in an enchanted
forest, swimming in a sea as the whale circles, circles, circles.
—
“Sweet Sam?” A voice. It’s faint, raspy. The throat that bore it hasn’t
been used in some time. “My sweet Sam, wake up.” Again, only this
time it’s not a call, it’s a reach.
I open my eyes to a still, dark room. The ventilator hums onward, a
machine of endlessness. But when I look up, the mask through
which it breathed isn’t on. Sam holds it away from his face.
He is awake. Sam is awake, eyes half-lidded but still brilliant, full of
light and life and him.
I shudder, pushing myself out of the chair so hard it falls over.
“I’m here,” I say, grasping the edge of his sheets, pulling the mask off
entirely. It catches in his hair, making Sam wince. I smooth it down
apologetically, but at the same time, I am relieved. I am relieved he
can express anything, even if it’s discomfort. I am relieved his face
scrunches up, and his body jumps on reflex. I am relieved his chest
rises and falls on its own, the sounds of the ventilator silenced by his
breathing.
“My sweet Sam,” he says again, a tiresome curve of his lips
revealing a crook of happy teeth. “My sweet Sam, could you hold my
hand? I don’t feel my best.”
“Yes,” I say, although it’s more a whisper. His palm meets mine, his
fingers slow, his skin cold but radiating. His cuts and bruises healed
while he was asleep, but there is still a mark on his wrist, a scar.
“You’re so warm,” Sam says, and like water, his light flows through
my veins.