Between Here and Forever

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She’s stil .

Silent.

The machines that keep Tess alive beep at me. I’ve been here so often that sometimes I think they’re her way of replying. But today that’s not enough. Sunday is a day of prayer after al , isn’t it? So here’s mine:

Today I want Tess to wake up.

Today she has to wake up.

I lean in, so close I can see the tiny blue lines on her eyelids marking where her blood stil pumps, stil flows. Shows that her heart stil beats.

“If you don’t do something, Tess, I—I’l sing for you.”

Nothing.

“I mean it,” I say.

Stil nothing. Tess’s eyes stay closed, and her body lies limp, punctured with needles and surrounded by machines. I used to visit Tess with Mom and Dad, used to wait with them for the doctor, but the news never changed and I got so I couldn’t bear to see my parents’ faces, washed out and exhausted and sad.

Like a princess in a fairy tale, Tess is asleep. Deeply asleep.

I guess “coma” doesn’t sound as good when you’re trying to sel stories where everything ends up okay.

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