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It was six A.M when Emma missed the bus. Maybe it was because she brushed her teeth for a bit too long, or perhaps she shouldn't have taken out Mrs.Viagas's trash that morning. Either way, she was late to the stop.
Her feet padded on the sidewalk as she shrugged on her leather jacket. The black coat seemed fitting against her white shirt and bright orange hair. The concrete below her was barely visible, only seen through the cracks of the colorful fallen leaves. She shoved her hands in her pockets and continued on her way through the big apple. Taxi's and cars drove by, and tourists took note of her appearance.
It was unlikely that she would make it on time. After all, the hospital opened at seven, and it was a 1 1/2 hour walk. She would get there about half an hour late. So she started running. Even shaving off five minutes would have been nice. For once, Emma was glad she was in Cross country during high school.
When she finally did make it, her legs were numb, and it was 7:09. "Good morning, Emma," The Nurse called out to her. She just smiled weakly back instead of returning the favor. Emma started to the cafeteria, grabbing an apple and some oatmeal on a red plastic tray. Her fingers wrapped around a second fork before heading down hallway A.
Before heading to her destination, she stopped in room 208. "here's your fork, Mr.Bailey," she said, handing the metal utensil to the man. His eyes widened in shock.
"Who are you?" He asked, "How did you know I didn't have a fork?" Unfortunately, Emma had already left.
She had known Mr. Bailey wouldn't remember her. His Short term memory made sure of that. For some reason that nobody could understand, he always forgot his fork for breakfast on Saturdays. The only reason why she knew this was because she had overheard him a couple of times complaining about it.
She fumbled with the tray, which had been heating up because of the steaming oatmeal on top of it. Each step was a step closer, and she couldn't waste another moment. It was bad enough she was late, even by a few minutes. Norman could die in two minutes. Every second counted, especially when the love of your life is on his death bed.
In thirty less than thirty seconds, she was there in front of room 156B. The metal door swung open to reveal miss Charlene Sang sitting and waiting for her breakfast as usual. "Good morning, Ms.Sang," Emma stated, "Here's your breakfast, sorry I'm late." Why did she bring this old woman breakfast on Sundays and Saturdays? Well, it was for one simple reason, she already brings her dinner Monday through Friday. "Any updates on Norman?" Emma asked, or maybe it was because Charlene was Normans' hospital roommate.
"I'm sorry, dear: they haven't said anything since yesterday." She explained. Emma sighed and took out the book from her back pocket.
"Thanks anyway, Charlene," She mumbled. Her hand pushed the blue and white curtain out of the way before she stumbled forward into Norman's world.
There he was, lying on the bed. The movement in his body had stilled almost completely. The only thing that made him seem alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest and the quiet beeping sound from the heart monitor. "Good morning, Honey," Emma said, "I brought your favorite." She sat down in the guest chair and grabbed his left hand. His hands were always warm before, but now his wedding ring wasn't the only thing that felt icy to the touch. Without another moment to waste, she began to read, "Sleeping Beauty, written by..." She would read and re-read that story a million times because he liked it when he was alive. No, when he was awake. Even so, Emma knew the real reason why she would come here and say every line of this book. It was because it gave her hope, so until Norman wakes up, she would work on memorizing its contents.
"...and they lived happily ever after the end," she finished. "Hey Norman, in this situation, I think I'm the prince, and you're sleeping beauty!" He would've laughed at that. Norman loved jokes about fairy tales. "Let's test that theory," Emma said, before bending over and giving him a light kiss on the forehead. After a few moments of nothing happening, she sighed. "Why did I think that would work," She criticized herself, "This isn't a fairy tale."
She used the rest of the time she had to grade her student's homework assignments. Every once in awhile, she would randomly tell Norman that she loved him because she did that when he was awake and didn't want to stop.
The hospital staff had felt guilty at kicking her out at the designated closing time. She was there every day, in that same seat, reading the same story, for every moment that she could be. As each day went by, she lost more hope. It had been four months since the couple had been in that car accident. Emma lost an ear, but Norman, Norman, had damage to his skull and internal bleeding. He went through multiple surgeries, and by some miracle, he was still alive. The treatment wasn't enough, though. He was still trapped in a deep sleep. It might just be his very own eternal slumber.
The Next day Emma repeated her steps once again, except this time made sure to catch the bus. She arrived at the hospital at precisely 7:00 AM, before- "Excuse me, but you're going to have to sign in," A young-looking nurse that was not the one usually behind the counter. "You work here, right?" she asked, "You're not asking for a room number so, I assume-"
"No, I don't." Emma replied, "I just- My husband is in room 156B." She clutched the sleeping beauty book tightly in her hands. "I know the way. If you ask any of the other staff members about Emma Minerva, then they should tell you about me." She continued down the hall to the cafeteria to pick up an apple and oatmeal. Just how long has she been here? Enough time for the staff members to change shifts once or maybe more. Her pace quickened. If Norman woke up, then she wouldn't need to come back here. She began running down the hall until she came face to face with the door labeled 156B.
While she opened the door, her fake smile went up, forcing her to close her eyes a bit. "Good morning, Charlene," Emma said, happily.
"Good morning, Emma," Came a rough masculine voice that was most definitely not Charlene. The tray clattered to the floor as she looked up and saw him. Oatmeal scattered on the floor as he spoke again, "I've missed you, my love." She ran to him, arms open, in longing. Her sleeping beauty had finally woken up.