Man's Wife Was in a Coma for Two Months, and Their Son Never Left Her Side – Until He Revealed What Happened Every Saturday - Page 21

The interpreter.

The protector.

The person who stayed.

I moved my chair beside Emma's bed.

Noah surrendered his spot without argument.

I took her hand.

"Hey," I said. "It's me."

Her fingers were warm.

Noah leaned back in his chair.

I thought about what question to ask.

Then I smiled.

"Emma, is Noah ever going to learn how to spell 'separate'?"

Noah groaned.

"That's not funny."

I kept watching her hand.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then one finger moved.

Once.

Yes.

Noah stared at it.

Then he started laughing.

I did too.

For the first time in months, the sound didn't feel wrong inside that room.

I'd spent so long thinking my son wouldn't leave because he couldn't accept what had happened to his mother.

I finally understood.

Noah stayed because he believed somebody had to.

And without meaning to, I had taught him that somebody was him.