TUESDAY TALES - "TWO OF HEARTS" - WORD PROMPT "ACTIVE"

Howdy Doodles and welcome to Tuesday Tales. 

Each week a great group of authors gets together to write their own stories to a communal word prompt. This week the prompt is "active." My story is again, a snippet from my women's fiction book, "Two of Hearts." When you're finished, don't forget to hop on over to the other authors' terrific stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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Marcy dragged an empty chair into the small area and sat on the other side of her father’s bed. 

“Look. I don’t have the energy to prop you up, too. It’s all I can to do keep my head above water. Your father is my life. My life! You’ll leave, go on a date, go to your job, back to your life. Stan is my life. My life is right here, in this bed, struggling to survive.”

“I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s try to pull together. Be civil to each other. For Stan’s sake.”

“Right,” she said in a small voice.

 They sat in silence, staring at Stan. At noon, when there had been no change, Marcy offered to go to the cafeteria and bring up sandwiches. Jen slipped her a twenty and thanked her. She returned with two ham and cheese on rye.

“Dad’s favorite,” Marcy said, handing one to Jen.

They ate in silence while Stan slept. Jen dozed until two. There was no change in Stan. She left to walk Willie, then returned. By five o’clock, she was exhausted. She and Marcy went down to the cafeteria together. Although not interested in breaking bread with a stepdaughter who hated her, Jen figured it’s what Stan would have wanted.

They returned to their vigil by six. With her eyes closing, Jen almost missed the first signs of activity. Stan shifted in bed. He raised his right hand a few inches.

“Marcy! Look!”

The young woman’s eyes widened. “Dad?”

His eyelids fluttered for a moment. Jen’s heart swelled. Stan was waking up. Hot damn!

“He’s alive,” she murmured.

“Dad?” Marcy called.

Jen’s finger flew to her lips. She stared at Marcy and shook her head. “Let him do it by himself.”

As quiet as he had been, suddenly his eyes were open. She saw fear and confusion. With the breathing tube, he couldn’t speak. His eyes darted wildly around the room. His right hand flailed.

“Stan. Stan, darling. It’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You’ve had an accident. Get the nurse, Marcy.”

The young woman fairly flew out of the room, returning in seconds with a nurse, who removed the breathing tube.

Jen took his good hand and squeezed it. Stan stared at her with blank eyes.

In a hoarse voice she almost didn’t recognize, he croaked out, “Who are you?”

That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by.