𝑱𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔

     Adrienne sits on the window sill, immersed in one of the books she’s been reading. She doesn’t notice me as I enter the room with her pills and a glass of water on a plastic tray. I near her and move toward the sill, setting the tray by her side.

     She faces me and closes the book. “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

     I smile at her. “You were engrossed in your book.”

     “I sure was.”

     “It’s time to take your pills.”

     “What time is it?”

     “Eight in the evening.”

     Her face puckers. “Then you’re home early. You don’t come home till ten.”

     “Darling, I haven’t gone to work since the accident. Remember?”

     She lifts a brow. “Really?”

     “Yes. It’s been a month since you came out of the coma.”

     “I remember that.” She stares blankly into my eyes, and I finally break contact.

     “I think you should take your pills.”

     She nods as I hand her two capsules. She dips them into her mouth, and I follow it with the glass of water. She takes it and sips dutifully.

     Threading my fingers through her hair, I say, “Good girl.”

     She looks up at me and grins. The water in the glass sloshes suddenly, and my eyes widen as I notice she’s shaking.

     “Are you all right, darling?”

     She struggles to speak. I quickly take the glass from her hand and set it aside, holding her shoulder. “What’s the matter, Adrienne?”

     She doesn’t reply. She starts to convulse and falls to the floor when I accidentally lose her hand. I kneel swiftly beside her, unable to do anything. What’s happening to my wife?

     Blood spills from her eyes and spatters on my face. I hold her back onto the floor to stop the convulsion, but it only gets worse. She grips my hand and mutters, “You killed me, Jeff. Why? I trusted you. You betrayed me.”

     Tears stream down my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please forgive me.”

“You lied to me. You lied. You lied. You lied . . .”

     I wake up instantly with an earsplitting yell and sit bolt upright on the couch, yanking off the duvet to the floor. I’m sweating profusely. I tremble as I remember the nightmare. Running my hand through my hair, I heave a sigh.

     I crouch down, rest my chin on my knees, pulling my arms around my legs and sobbing. “I’m sorry, Adrienne. I didn’t mean to do it. It was a mistake,” I say to myself amidst tears.

     “It was a mistake. I should have told you the truth. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

     I hear the flick of the switch. The light in the living room comes on, brightening the room. Ella walks toward me and straps her nightdress. I glance at her, then blink back tears.

     “Another nightmare?”

     I bob my head. “I killed Adrienne again. I killed my wife.”

     She nears me and sits on the floor by my side. “You didn’t kill Adrienne.”

     I jerk my head in her direction. “I killed her. I know I did. No one’s talking me out of it.”

     “All right. Why did you do it then?”

     I shrug. “I don’t know.”

     “See,” she says, “you didn’t kill her. If you killed her, you’d have had a reason.”

     “Really?”

     “Yes.”

     She holds my face and directs it to her side so that our eyes are meeting. “You’re struggling between what’s real and what’s not. Adrienne died, but you didn’t kill her. You betrayed her, and you have to live with it.”

     “How?”

     “Simple. The doctor we saw today, she’s a friend of mine. I trust her. She can help you recover. You just have to do as she says. Is that all right?”

     “I don’t trust her.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to trust her.” She takes my hand and places it on her belly. I feel a little movement. “I’m asking you to trust us. Little Jeff and me. Can you do that?”

     I nod. “Yes, I can.”

     She smiles at me, and I smile back.