Николас Спаркс - The Choice

He wondered whether her husband had watched her from the corner of his eye the way Travis watched Gabby when their kids frolicked on the swings in the park. He loved the way Gabby’s expression would light up with pride. Often, he’d reach for her hand and feel like holding it forever.

He wondered whether her husband had found her beautiful first thing in the morning, with her hair askew, the way Travis did when he saw Gabby. Sometimes, despite the structured chaos always associated with mornings, they would simply lie together in each other’s arms for a few more minutes, as if drawing strength to face the upcoming day.

Travis didn’t know whether his marriage had been especially blessed or whether all marriages were like his. All he knew was that without Gabby he was utterly lost, while others, including the woman in the cafeteria, somehow found the strength to go on. He didn’t know whether he should admire the woman or feel sorry for her. He always turned away before she caught him staring. Behind him, a family wandered in, chattering excitedly and carrying balloons; at the register, he saw a young man digging through his pockets for change. Travis pushed aside his tray, feeling ill. His sandwich was only half-eaten. He debated whether to bring it with him back to the room but knew he wouldn’t finish it even if he did. He turned toward the window.

The cafeteria overlooked a small green space, and he watched the changing world outside. Spring would be here soon, and he imagined that tiny buds were beginning to form on the dogwoods. In the past three months, he’d seen every kind of weather from this very spot. He’d watched rain and sun and seen winds in excess of fifty miles an hour bend the pine trees in the distance almost to the point of snapping. Three weeks ago, he’d seen hail fall from the sky, only to be followed minutes later by a spectacular rainbow that seemed to frame the azalea bushes. The colors, so vivid they seemed almost alive, made him think that nature sometimes sends us signs, that it’s important to remember that joy can always follow despair. But a moment later, the rainbow had vanished and the hail returned, and he realized that joy was sometimes only an illusion.

Nineteen

By midafternoon, the sky was turning cloudy, and it was time for Gabby’s afternoon routine. Though she’d completed the exercises from the morning, and a nurse would come by later in the evening to do another workout, he’d asked Gretchen if it would be okay if he did the same thing in the afternoon as well.

“I think she’d like that,” Gretchen had said.

She walked him through the process, making sure he understood that every muscle and every joint needed attention. While Gretchen and the other nurses always started with Gabby’s fingers, Travis started with her toes. He lowered the sheet and reached for her foot, flexing her pinkie toe up and down, then again, before moving to the toe beside it.

Travis had come to love doing this for her. The feel of her skin against his own was enough to rekindle a dozen memories: the way he’d rubbed her feet while she’d been pregnant, the slow and intoxicating back rubs by candlelight during which she’d seemed to purr, massages on her arm after she’d strained it lifting a bag of dog food one-handed. As much as he missed talking to Gabby, sometimes he believed that the simple act of touch was what he missed most of all. It had taken him over a month before he’d asked Gretchen’s permission to help with the exercises, and during that time, whenever he’d stroked Gabby’s leg, he’d felt somehow as if he were taking advantage of her. It didn’t matter that they were married; what mattered was that it was a one-sided act on his part, somehow disrespectful to the woman he adored.

But this . . .

She needed this. She required this. Without it, her muscles would atrophy, and even if she woke—when she woke, he quickly corrected himself—she would find herself permanently bedridden. At least, that’s what he told himself. Deep down, he knew he needed it as well, if only to feel the heat from her skin or the gentle pulse of blood in her wrist. It was at such times he felt most certain that she would recover; that her body was simply repairing itself.

He finished with her toes and moved to her ankles; when that was done, he flexed her knees, bending them both to her chest and then straightening them. Sometimes, while lying on the couch and glancing through magazines, Gabby would absently stretch her leg in exactly the same way. It was something a dancer would do, and she made it look just as graceful.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

That feels wonderful. Thanks. I was feeling a little stiff.

He knew he’d imagined her answer, that Gabby hadn’t stirred. But her voice seemed to arise from nowhere whenever he worked with her like this. Sometimes he wondered whether he was going crazy. “How are you doing?”

Bored out of my head, if you want to know the truth. Thanks for the flowers, by the way. They’re lovely. Did you get them from Frick’s?

“Where else?”

How are the girls? Tell me the truth this time.

Travis moved to the other knee. “They’re okay. They miss you, though, and it’s hard on them. Sometimes I don’t know what to do.”

You’re doing the best you can, right? Isn’t that what we always tell each other?

“You’re right.”

Then that’s all I expect. And they’ll be okay. They’re tougher than they look.

“I know. They take after you.”

Travis imagined her looking him over, her expression wary.

You look skinny. Too skinny.

“I haven’t been eating much.”

I’m worried about you. You’ve got to take care of yourself. For the girls. For me.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

I know. I’m afraid of that, too. Do you remember Kenneth and Eleanor Baker?

Travis stopped flexing. “Yes.”

Then you know what I’m talking about.

He sighed and started again. “Yes.”

In his mind, her tone softened. Do you remember when you made us all go camping in the mountains last year? How you promised that the girls and I would love it?

He began working on her fingers and arms. “What brought that up?”

I think about a lot of things here. What else can I do? Anyway, do you remember that when we first got there, we didn’t even bother to set up camp—just kind of unloaded the truck—even though we heard thunder in the distance, because you wanted to show us the lake? And how we had to walk half a mile to get there, and right when we reached the shore, the sky opened up and it just . . . poured? Water gushing out of the sky like we were standing under a hose. And by the time we got back to camp, everything was soaked through. I was pretty mad at you and made you take us all to a hotel instead.

“I remember.”

I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. Even though it was your fault.

“Why is it always my fault?”

He imagined her winking at him as he gently rolled her neck from side to side.

Because you’re such a good sport when I say it.

He bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

“I miss you so much.”

I miss you, too.

His throat clenched a little as he finished the exercise routine, knowing Gabby’s voice would begin to fade away again. He moved his face closer to hers. “You know you’ve got to wake up, right? The girls need you. I need you.”

I know. I’m trying.

“You’ve got to hurry.”

She said nothing, and Travis knew he’d pressed too hard.

“I love you, Gabby.”

I love you, too.