by KJ Bell
“No,” I shout. “I can take care of myself.”
As much as I want Battle here, I think it’s best if I ask him to leave. Emotions are running high. I don’t want to upset anyone more than they already are.
I take Battle’s hand and walk a few feet away from my parents. “Thank you for bringin’ me here. It means a lot, but I think you should go. He’s a stubborn old man and now’s not the time to test him.”
It’s hard for me to get the words out when he stares at me with those unbearable blue eyes. Once I do, I wait for him to shoot anger at me. Instead, he places a gentle kiss to my forehead and says, “Whatever you want.”
I heave a breath. He makes it so easy to love him. “Thank you,” I whisper, on the verge of tears.
He kisses me again before he turns and walks away. My father’s eyes follow him until he disappears out of sight. His gaze slides over to me. I quickly turn my head, disgusted with my father.
Marty sits with Gunner’s mother, comforting her. I go to Mrs. Daughtrey to hug her, but she stops me with her hand.
“Don’t!” she screams. “You hurt my boy, and I can’t look at you.”
Mr. Daughtrey pulls her into his arms, and mouths, I’m sorry. I take a seat next to Marty. Mrs. Daughtrey’s words run slowly through my thoughts. Why am I here? I don’t feel wanted. Everyone wants to remind me how angry they are I left Wyatt. I consider leaving when I get a text that explains exactly why I’m here.
B: You loved him once. You may even love him now, and he needs you. My leaving was the right thing. Stay strong and text me when you know something. x
F: Thank you. x
No one speaks as hours tick off the clock. A doctor finally approaches. He’s here for Gunner’s mother. He tells her she’s extremely lucky that Gunner only suffered broken ribs and a concussion and will fully recover. There is no news on Wyatt, but if broken ribs and a concussion are good news, then I can’t comprehend his condition.
I try not to let the possibilities destroy my hope, but the more time that passes, the more devastated I feel and the more certain I become about Wyatt not surviving the night.
Marty and I visit the hospital chapel to say a silent prayer. My prayer turns to straight begging as I plead with God not to take Wyatt. While I kneel in the small pew with my eyes closed, I remember Evelyn needs my prayers, too. As tears fall, I argue with a God I strongly believe in to alter Evelyn’s fate. To spare her. To remember how much Erinn and Battle need a mother. I pray for a miracle.
After Gunner’s mother returns from visiting him, my parents convince her to go home and get some sleep. Marty and I trek to the cafeteria and bring back coffee for everyone. I find a seat away from my parents and Wyatt’s. The somber mood of the waiting room reminds me of being here for Gram. I wish Battle was here. I send him a text to let him know we haven’t heard anything, and I’m worried. He replies immediately.
B: I’m sure he’ll be okay. Praying for him.
I read the last line several times.
Battle hasn’t kept his dislike of Wyatt a secret, yet, he’s praying for him to recover. Battle and I discussed religion once. He believes in God and faith, but he doesn’t feel attending church every Sunday makes you a good Christian.
I haven’t been going to church since I started seeing Battle, another reason my father doesn’t care for him. Daddy thinks the only way to a Christian heart is church on Sunday; yet he didn’t treat Battle too Christian-like earlier. I think Battle praying for the health of a man he doesn’t much like makes him more of Christian and more of a man, than my father’s ever been.
“Mr. and Mrs. Daughtrey?” The voice from the man in blue scrubs brings all of us to our feet. Wyatt’s parents shake his hand. Concern layers the doctor’s expression and my heart sinks. “Your son suffered a severe head injury in the accident. We had to operate on his brain to relieve some pressure. The surgery went well, but he’s still in a coma, and we don’t know how much damage occurred to the brain, if any.”
The doctor goes on to explain Wyatt broke both his legs, several ribs, his pelvis, and fractured his skull, but he’s young and healthy and that works in his favor. His mother falls into his father’s arms, bawling hysterically. The doctor frowns, apologizing again and leaves. I don’t think any of us are any clearer on Wyatt’s condition or where his recovery stands. The only thing I heard was that even if he survives, he may have severe brain damage.
Wyatt would never want to live as a vegetable or carry on with a poor quality of life. We discussed it once during college. He has to fight, because his mother will never let him go.
Mr. Daughtrey goes home to rest. Mrs. Daughtrey stays. My parents say goodnight, and as I angry as I am, I cling to both of them when they hug me goodbye. I’m grateful Marty stays with me, for her company, and to use as a shield from Wyatt’s hostile mother.
I text Battle the confusing news, letting him know I’m going to spend the night at the hospital. He doesn’t reply, and I assume he’s gone to sleep. I borrow a blanket from one of the nurses and lie on a row of seats with my head in Marty’s lap. My emotions take over, combined with exhaustion, and I cry until Marty soothes me to sleep by brushing my hair with her fingers.
My eyes open when Marty stands, but when I lower my head, they close again.
“Faye, wake up,” Marty says, shaking my arm.
I open my eyes to her blurry form, holding two duffle bags. “What?” I groan.
She smiles. “Battle brought this for you while you were asleep.”
I sit up, taking the bag she hands me. Inside, I find my favorite yoga pants, a t-shirt, a toothbrush, and a pair of underwear. I blush, remembering I’m not wearing any. His consideration of my needs always amazes me.
“Your dad’s wrong,” she says. “He’s a good guy, Faye.”
Marty and I haven’t talked much about me and Battle. It’s nice to know she’s on my side. I smile and nod. “What’s in that bag?”
She holds it up. “He brought one for me, too.”
Happy emotions attempt to bring tears, but I think I’m all cried out. “He did?”
“He called Austin and told him to pack somethin’ for me. You better marry this one.” Her words crush me. I lower my head, hoping she won’t see my distress. “What is it?”
“Oh, Mar. Battle will never marry me.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s kinda fucked up. That’s why!”
Realization dawns over her features. “Oh…his mom. He’s just scared, Faye, but he obviously loves you.”
“It’s not only his mother. He hates his father, and I know he has secrets. He has a car in his flippin’ garage he won’t even drive. He won’t tell me why, but that’s not normal.”
“Hey, hey.” She rubs my arms, trying to calm me down. I smile, although it’s forced and uncomfortable. “I don’t give a shit what he says. I know when a guy’s in love, and he loves you. It will all work out.”
“I hope you’re right, because I love him somethin’ fierce.”
We go into the bathroom to change. I try to tell her she can go home, but she refuses to leave me. I find a note at the bottom of the bag from Battle.
He went above what any guy I’ve ever known would do in this situation, and I can’t wait to thank him for it. Battle is one of the most considerate people I’ve ever met. The mental list I keep of his amazing qualities keeps growing. Other than his fear of love, which I’m not convinced is unwarranted, finding a single flaw in him has proven to be difficult.
Neither Marty nor I slept well. By six in the morning, we give up trying and venture down to the cafeteria for breakfast. The coffee tastes as gross as it did the night before, but the French toast and scrambled eggs isn’t terrible, although I only manage a few bites as my stomach turns.
Marty and I barely speak as I pick at my food, silently praying for Wyatt to recover. I think about times when we were happy together, like the first time he kissed me.
We were under the tree in
his backyard in late November. I snuggled close to him to keep warm, and he leaned over and asked if he could kiss me. My first kiss brought with it a rush of nerves. I remember the cold of his lips, mixing with the warmth of his mouth. I had no idea what I was doing, but I moved my tongue at the same pace as his, following along. My mind overpowered the moment, questioning if I was doing it right, and if he was enjoying it. As he ended the kiss, he smiled against my lips and said, “Faye Callahan, I’m fallin’ in love with you.”
As mere teenagers, perhaps neither of us knew what love was, but as the years passed, we figured it out. There was a time when our love was unquestionable, and now he could die without ever knowing how much he meant to me. Sure we grew apart, changed and made mistakes, but he gave me a first love I can be proud of, a love I can tell my daughter to demand with her first.
Please don’t let him die.
Please.
The waiting room buzzes with happiness as Marty and I return from breakfast. My parents hug the Daughtrey’s, and Gunner’s mother. I meet the happy gaze of my mother, knowing my prayers have been answered. She runs to me, and throws her arms around my neck.
“Oh, honey, he’s awake,” she sings in my ear. “And he’s talkin’. There’s no brain damage.” Joy circulates through me, bringing with it happy tears. She lets go of me, looking directly into my eyes, “He’s askin’ for you.”
Machines beep and hiss as I enter Wyatt’s room. He’s connected to wires and tubes, his fingers look like hamburger, and his skin glows with purple and yellow hues. His blond hair hangs in his closed eyes from under his bandaged head. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him fragile, and I hate it. I want to see the strong arrogant asshole I’ve been angry with lately because that man is a fighter. His eyes flutter open. He turns his head, wincing.
“Faye,” he says coughing, which makes him wince more.
“I’m here,” I say, moving to the chair at his bedside. I take his hand in mine. “Don’t you ever do that again. Do your hear me? You scared us.”
“I won’t,” he says, squirming with discomfort. “Especially now that you’ve come back to me.”
I squeeze my eyes tight, holding off tears. He thinks I’ve come back to him. How can I tell him that I haven’t when he’s fighting this hard to recover? I can’t. With a smile, I stroke the hair from his forehead. “You should rest,” I say, standing.
His grip on my hand tightens. “Please don’t ever leave me, again. I can’t take it.”
I nod with a stiff smile and leave the room. His mother waits outside his door. The way she looks at me sets my skin ablaze.
“You told him I wanted him back?” I ask, accusingly.
“He needs a reason to live.” Anger consumes me, as I glance away, shaking my head. “He needs you.”
I grind my teeth as I lift my head. “You had no right. As soon as he’s in the clear, you tell him the truth or I will.”
“You can’t do that,” she screeches. “You don’t know how hard it’s been for him. He’s lost without you.”
The guilt she lays on thickly wraps around my conscious, but I remember the words of the man I love, stay strong.
“I care about Wyatt. Hell, I love him, but not in the way he needs me to, and not in the way you or my parents want me to. It isn’t fair to him to make him believe otherwise. I won’t lie to him.”
“You little, bitch,” she snarls. “You don’t deserve my son, and you never did, but he loves you. I feel sorry for you, because if you think that rovin’ cowboy can give you even half the love Wyatt can, then you’re a fool.”
A few months ago, I would have taken every word to heart and believed her. Her one mistake is not knowing Battle like I do. He’s already given me more love than Wyatt ever did. Battle’s love comes in the form of truth. He’s never lied to me. He’s never cheated on me. He’s always been honest in where we stand. Although it may not be what I want to hear at times, I savor his honesty like my last breath of air.
I grow furious staring at her satisfied smile. She thinks she put me in my place, but I’m not finished with her.
“You seriously need to take the nipple out of Wyatt’s mouth already.” Her mouth falls open as she gasps, but I ignore her fake alarm and continue, “He’s a grown man. Quit controllin’ him, give him some room to breathe, and he might actually find someone to make him happy, but I can tell you, it isn’t me. And not simply because of the ‘rovin’ cowboy’. If Wyatt were truly in love with me, he would never have strayed. That’s how real love works. So be angry with me all you want, but you should try lookin’ in the mirror first.”
She scowls and I walk away, leaving her standing with her stupid mouth still open, and palming her heart. With a smirk I glance up. Grammy definitely had a hand in that conversation. I’m more like her than my parents ever wanted me to be, and I’m perfectly content with that knowledge.
Marty joins me in the waiting room chairs, telling me my parents went for coffee. I’m in the mood to deliver a back off message their way as well. I check my phone to see a text from Battle.
B: Good mornin’, sweetheart. How are things? Miss you.
F: He’s awake, and I think he’ll make it. I miss you, too. Thank you for the clothes.
B: That’s good to hear. I’ll be home all day. Call if you need anything.
F: Thank you.
My mother and father return with Starbucks. I’m happy to accept a cup as my stomach can’t tolerate another sip of the tar-like substance the cafeteria offers. Marty leaves me alone when she goes to visit Gunner.
I frown when my parents fill a seat on either side of me. My father sighs as he leans forward on his knees, spinning his paper coffee cup in his hands.
Before he starts in, I say, “I love Battle, Daddy, and if you can’t accept that, then I’m sorry.”
He turns his head, meeting the eyes of my mother. “You’re so much like Grammy, kiddo.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. She was a wonderful woman, and I’m happy I’m like her.”
A grin stretches his face. “Me, too,” he says softly, surprising me. “Bein’ with your granddaddy was hard for her. He was older and left his wife to be with her.” Now he has my attention. I knew Grandpa was older, but I never realized he was married. “People weren’t kind to her, or to me. I guess that’s why I’m so controllin’. I want to save you from judgment. I decided the only way to do that was to plan everything out so you wouldn’t make any mistakes.”
His words settle and I yell, “Battle’s not a mistake!”
“That’s not what I meant,” he defends, but I’m too angry to let him speak.
“All of this is for you. You want the Mayor’s seat, and if I’m not perfect or I’m not with Wyatt, you don’t think you can win.”
“Calm down,” he says, and I try, inhaling slowly through my nose. “I’m ashamed to admit you’re right, but it didn’t start out that way. Wyatt was always a good choice, and when you broke up, I was worried it would affect my chances of winnin’. But I realize now he’s changed and you deserve someone who treats you right. But from what I’ve heard about this man you’re seein’, it isn’t him. He’s been in some trouble, and his Daddy’s covered up his messes. The McCoys are bad people. He isn’t good for you.”
It’s ironic to me that the one thing keeping my father from liking Battle is something they have in common; the McCoys are bad people.
My mother, in her usual place sits quietly, nodding her silent agreement with my father.
“His name is Battle,” I spit with rage, and stand up, not caring if I make a scene. “Makin’ judgments about a man you don’t know, based on town gossip, makes you no better than the people who judged Grammy. You should be ashamed. So keep tellin’ yourself how you’re a good Christian every Sunday when you step into church. I’ll pray for you, Daddy, for your soul, for the day you have to make peace with God. I’m gonna be with Battle, and if you want me in your life, you better find a way to accept him.”<
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He yells my name as I storm down the hall, but I keep going. How can one man be so unaware of his faults and so adamantly judge others. My feelings are close to hatred and if I turn around, I know I’ll say the words. I go into the bathroom and text Battle.
F: I need you.
When my emotions calm, I visit Wyatt. He smiles when I enter, holding his hand out. I take a seat at his bedside, holding his hand. How can I tell him I’m not here to mend our relationship? Forty-five minutes tick away without a word from either of us. I don’t want to hurt him after what he’s been through, while he’s in a weakened state, but pretending isn’t right.
“You aren’t back for me, are you?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
I suck back a sob as I glance up and faintly shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Faye, I’m sorry. I should’ve done right by you.”
“I forgive you,” I say, standing and lean over him. With his hand still in mine, I smile. “I will always care about you, but I’ve fallin’ in love with someone else.”
He squeezes my fingers. “I know, but if he ever hurts you, you tell me, okay?” I nod. “So I can kick his ass.”
We both laugh, and he grimaces in pain. “Don’t laugh,” I say, which makes us laugh again. “I’m sorry.”
“You look real happy, and I love seein’ you laugh again.” The sincerity in his words tug on my emotions.
“I love seein’ you laugh, too,” I admit, realizing how long it’s been since we’ve been happy in the same room with each other.
“Times up.” He nods at the door where Battle stands, leaning against the door frame. I wonder how long he’s been there?
“I’ll be back to visit you every day. You get better, okay?” He smiles as I lean down to kiss his forehead.
Our eyes connect as I lift my head. “You should tell him,” he says.
He knows me well. I don’t have to ask him to clarify. I know I should tell Battle I’m in love with him, but I also know he isn’t ready to hear it.