Off Her Rockers (Loving All Wrong #3.5)

by S. Ann Cole

“He could have a seizure?” Tex interrupted, looking horrified.

  “Seizures are common in patients who suffer TBI. Especially non-convulsive seizures—that is seizures that are not visible to the human eye. For this reason, Mr. Xander has to be monitored with EEG for at least the next 72 hours.”

  “Oh my God,” Xena whispered ghostly, leaning onto me as if she could no longer hold her own weight.

  Chest expanding and deflating with a sigh, the doctor looked at Xena sympathetically and suggested, “I think it is best to be seated for what I have to tell you next.”

  Her eyes went wide. “There’s more?”

  Tex came over and pried Xena from my arms. Whispering something in her ear, he led her to the nearest chair, sat down beside her, and held her tight in his arms.

  Feeling it safe to continue, the doctor dropped the anchor on us, “As you might already know, Mr. Xander was pinned and had to be cut out of the wreck. His left leg was crushed. Beyond repair.” Pausing, he swept over all of us with his stare, as if to make sure we got it. “Mr. Xander’s left leg has been amputated.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SILENCE.

  A sound of the world being swallowed whole.

  A sound of a bomb diving into the ocean.

  Everyone stared. Too shocked to speak.

  Mr. Xander’s left leg has been amputated.

  I moved first. Finding a wall to lend my weight. Needing its support.

  Samson. My king. My man. My powerful, deep-voiced, macho man. Of great height and great strength. Of great looks and great talents.

  Mr. Xander’s left leg has been amputated.

  What did we do with that? How did we react to that?

  Leo spoke first, hoarse and scratchy, “But he’ll live, right?”

  Sounding and looking exhausted, the doctor replied, “Right now that is up to Mr. Xander. He is in a coma. He will wake up whenever he is ready.” He looked at us one by one. “But be prepared. If he does wake up, amnesia and mental disorder is a sixty percent possibility.”

  “Jesus,” someone muttered.

  Xena tried to stand, but Tex kept her tight to him as if his life depended on hers. “Can we see him?”

  “You may, but I suggest no more than two people at a time in the room. And…prepare yourself for what you will see.”

  Xena glanced at me and started to say something, but Tex spoke over her, giving me a direct look. “I wanna go with her. Please.”

  He made it seem as though he needed my permission to start making big moves with Xena. I nodded, because that was all I could manage at that moment. Once again, I was numb. So numb I couldn’t feel my heartbeat. My feet gave out, failed me, and I slid down the wall to the ground and buried my face between my knees, focusing on my breathing to keep conscious, to keep from passing out.

  I felt a warm breath at my ear, Xena’s pain-filled voice as she whispered, “It’s like you said, they gouged Samson’s eyes and cut his hair, but he was still the strongest man alive. Still the best.”

  I raised my head. She gave me a forced smile. “He lost a leg. So what? He’s still Xavier Xander. Still the best.”

  “Still the best,” I agreed in a hoarse whisper.

  Squeezing my shoulder, she gave me another struggling smile and straightened. Tex tucked her in his side and I watched them follow the doctor down the hall.

  Jake walked over, sat down on the floor beside me, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. He didn’t speak. Just held me. I was certain no one knew what to say even if they wanted to say something. We needed to digest it all first.

  Jake sat there with me for the 13 minutes and forty-seven seconds it took Xena and Tex to return. She was bawling audibly now, her face buried in the crook of Tex’s neck.

  My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a cement block. Up until now, Xena had been strong through it all. Xavier had to be a sight to make her break down like that. She couldn’t even raise her head to speak when I asked directions. Tex did the speaking.

  With cold, trembling hands, I declined Jake’s offer to accompany me. I had only one thing to say to Samson, and it was for his ears only.

  I moved slow, steady, one-step at a time, dreading reaching his room. Preparing, steeling myself…

  But no matter how slow I’d walked, how much I’d tried to “prepare”, I couldn’t have prepared myself enough for what I saw when I walked in that room.

  Xavier was unrecognizable.

  Hooked up to a plethora of wires and tubes, his face, or at least what I could see of it through all the paraphernalia, was so swollen he almost seemed plastic. There was some kind of brace around his neck that looked like it was keeping his head attached to his body. And all his bountiful golden waves, gone. Shaved off in a patchy, horrible mess. A long, bizarre stapled scar snaked down the left side of his head. I guess that’s where they did the surgery.

  I held it together, proud of myself for not breaking at the sight of him, until my eyes drifted down his battered body and saw the outline of his amputated leg under the white sheets. Cropped below the knee.

  It was too much.

  I doubled over and held my stomach as a sob launched from the deepest part of me and exploded from my mouth. Knees buckling, I grabbed for the nearest thing to me to steady myself—the metal railings of his bed.

  I cried, and I cried, and I cried. Like I’ve never cried before. Not even when my parents died. Pain I’ve never felt before. Not even when Davian broke my heart.

  I cried for him. Because until that moment, I didn’t realize how much of me he owned. He was a colossal part of me. He ran through my veins evenly with my blood. Seeing him like that was excruciating. It slaughtered my soul and tortured my heart. I was in pain from head to toe and I hadn’t been in an accident.

  For him to go from being in my bed, in all his six-foot-five, blond hair and amazingly perfect lips glory, to being in a hospital bed looking like…this. I didn’t even know what I was looking at. He was mangled. This wasn’t my Xavier. A strong, fierce, heart-stopping man reduced to tubes and wires.

  I sobbed for who knows how long before an African American nurse walked in and asked if I was okay. I stammered that I just needed a few more minutes with him. With an empathetic nod, she checked on the machines and adjusted some of the tubes before leaving me to Xavier again.

  My feet felt like lead as I forced them to move to the side of the bed. Looking down at a dead-to-the-world Xavier, I had a brief flashback of him unconscious in my elevator. That time, he’d been unconscious but still whole. Still in control of his life. The peace of that unconsciousness was knowing for a fact that by morning he’d be back in the world. Back to being a sensation. Back to being Xavier Xander.

  But this unconsciousness was uncertain. Whether or not he returned to the world was a matter of “maybe”. A “possibly”. An “it’s all up to him”.

  Earlier I’d assured Xena that Xavier would definitely choose to return to us because he knew we loved him and were here waiting, but that was before I spoke with Jessica and learned that he never did wait for me. Even though he knew I loved him.

  He’d given up.

  With that knowledge, I no longer trusted him to return us. That revelation from Jessica changed everything, but I couldn’t tell Xena. I couldn’t tell her not to hold her breath because her brother was a quitter.

  How do I sleep? How do I sleep from now on knowing he might give up and never come back?

  I wanted to punch him, shake him, and scream at him to wake the hell up. I was so scared. So frickin’ scared.

  Leaning over him, I brought my mouth down to his ear and whispered, “You are a liar. You never waited. You are an asshole. You gave up on me. You are a dick. You never once told me you love me, but I forgive you, because I love you. Wherever you are right now, whatever you are doing, know that I’m waiting for you. ‘Do what you must, I won’t hold it against you. However long it takes, I’ll wait’.”

  Straightening, I turned and walked out o
f the room without looking back.

  Six days later, Xavier came back…well, at least part of him did…

  Xena had decided against telling Mick Xander about the accident, as she wasn’t sure how he would take the news what with how their mother had gone mad after their brother’s death and committed suicide, and how Mick went mad after their mother’s death. However, it could only be kept from him for so long because Xavier was the one who dealt with his father, not Xena. Sooner or later he was bound to suspect something was amiss.

  We’d tried to have Xavier moved to a more private hospital but was cautioned that transporting him while on a ventilator was highly dangerous, so I rented a larger hospital room and had it customized to fit him. Placed his great grandfather’s old guitar above his bed, and blew up his favorite black and white photo of his great granddad, framed it and hung it on the wall.

  His room was bursting with flowers and cards and gift baskets and chocolates from fans, which kept the nurses busy.

  I saw him at 6 pm each day. Got in his—much bigger—bed with him and told him all about how my day went, hour by hour, the sweets and the sours.

  He never responded.

  I always left sobbing.

  The day he opened his eyes was the only day I got to the hospital late. Jacob had had some kind of stomach ailment and I’d had to take him to the pediatrician and spent the day soothing him.

  The second I stepped off the elevator and saw Xena in tears, and the rest of Ninety Miles slumped against walls with somber faces, I knew something was up.

  Xena stopped pacing when she saw me, stared at me through her tears and shook her head.

  Thinking the worst from that gesture, I panicked and broke into a jog, trying to get past everyone to get to Xavier’s room.

  “Alina!” Xena yelled, running after me.

  I didn’t stop until I got to Xavier’s door. As I was about to turn the knob, the door opened and Mrs. Baynard, the nurse who had been attending to Xavier since we moved him, walked out.

  She looked at me with a soft, apologetic smile and pulled the door closed behind her.

  “Why are you closing the door? I need to see him,” I demanded. “What’s happened?”

  I felt Xena come up behind me just then.

  “I’m sorry, Miss O’Hara,” began Mrs. Baynard, “but as of today, no one but Mr. Xander’s next of kin and Miss Stucco will be allowed to visit Mr. Xander until he says otherwise.”

  My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Until he…you mean he’s awake?”

  Mrs. Baynard nodded. “He woke up at 7:12 this morning. I’m sorry, Miss O’Hara, but I have to run.”

  She stepped around me and walked off and I reached out for the door handle, but Xena jumped in front of me, blocking the door.

  “You can’t, Alina,” she croaked with the same apologetic look the nurse had given me. “I signed off on it.”

  “What do you mean I can’t?!” I screamed at her. “What did you sign off on?”

  “That no one but me and Jess can see him. He—”

  I chucked her, and when she stumbled, I took advantage of her position and shoved her out of the way, then turned the doorknob and stomped in. Though I didn’t get far before I was halting again.

  Jessica was sitting beside Xavier on his bed, running her fingers along the side of his bruised face, softly crooning Air Supply’s Out of Nothing At All.

  Xavier’s eyes were on her, but they seemed a little unfocused. Jessica glanced up at me, but she didn’t stop singing. Wow, I had no idea, but damn that girl could sing. For a second, I was stunned speechless by her voice, completely thrown off guard. Then I remembered I was angry and snapped out of it at the victorious gleam in her eyes.

  I moved closer into the room, to the bed.

  “Alina…” Xena tried to warn from behind me, but I wasn’t listening.

  Jessica watched me approach, but she just kept on singing, caressing the side of his face.

  “Xavi?” I said hoarsely.

  No response. Eyes fixated on Jessica’s moving lips.

  I drew up to the side of the bed. “Xavi?”

  Still nothing. No indication whatsoever that he heard me.

  “He’s only responding to ‘Xander’,” Xena spared. She was right beside me at the bedside now, her sniffles growing. “And he doesn’t remember anyone. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. He calls Jess by her name, but we can’t figure out if it’s because he remembers her or if it’s because she was here when he woke up and she told him her name. She won’t admit that she told him her name, but I think she did. And, you know, it’s the first thing he heard so he remembers it.”

  Even as we talked about her, Jess still didn’t stop singing, just watched us with this “I’m winning” expression.

  My heartbeat was nonexistent as I stared down at the man I loved staring at another woman’s mouth. “So what’s with the whole you and Jess only thing?”

  Xena sighed. “I’m told she’s been here since 6 am. When he woke up, she was there. I don’t know what happened between that time and the time I got here with the band, but when we came in, he didn’t remember any of us. He freaked out. Clung to Jess. He was terrified of us. The nurse asked us to leave, but he wouldn’t let go of Jess.

  “The doctor later suggested that the best thing for Xavi’s recovery right now is to have the person he’s attached to the most to be around as often as possible…and the rest of us have to wait.” She laced her fingers with mine, both of us staring down at him. “Alina, the only reason I’m allowed is because I’m family. I signed off on Jess because I love him and want him to regain his memory, but he doesn’t want me in here either. His own sister. You have no idea how much that hurts.”

  We stood silently for a long time, watching Xavier watch Jessica. Her soulful singing filled the room like a soothing balm. Girl. Could. Sing.

  “I don’t trust you,” I hissed at Jessica. “I don’t trust what you’ll tell him or what you’ll remind him of.”

  Jessica stopped singing, and a smirk formed. “Well, you don’t have a choice now, do you?”

  Following the direction of Jessica’s stolen attention, Xavier’s head finally turned, slowly, to us. His eyes landed on Xena first, and he made a slight shake of his head as if displeased to see her there.

  At the rejection, the look of displeasure, Xena burst into tears. I squeezed her fingers; it was the only comfort I could offer right then.

  Xavier’s eyes shifted to me next.

  In a long, sorrowful moment of silence, he just stared at me. My heart leaped with the hope that he might remember me, and I waited with bated breath for those perfect lips to form my name.

  Remember me. Remember me, goddammit!

  He cocked his head just a fraction, like a curious bird, and a frown marred his already marred face.

  Xena was the one squeezing my fingers this time, and I knew she held the same hope as I did.

  Xavier studied me for a few beats longer, before turning his attention back to Jess and saying something to her in…was that French? His speech was a little impeded and scratchy, but it wasn’t English, that’s for sure.

  “That’s another thing,” Xena spared before I could ask the question. “He’s only speaking French. We’re not sure if he’s forgotten how to speak English or what, but French is our first language, so…I don’t know. This might also be another—understandable—reason why he’s clinging to Jess: before I got here no one but Jess understood his ramblings. She speaks a little French.”

  Jessica spoke French? Seriously? This girl was my worst nightmare!

  She bent her head and mumbled something back to him in French. He looked back at us, frowned again, and shook his head.

  “What did he say to her?” I whispered.

  Unlacing her fingers from mine, Xena ruffled around in her handbag for a handkerchief and blew her nose. He said, “’Why did you make her come back? And who is the dark one? Please let them leave and sing for
me some more.’”

  “The dark one?”

  “Maybe he means your hair?” She shrugged. “I dunno.”

  A stifled giggle came from Jessica. I glared at her.

  “And what did the witch say?”

  “She told him I’m his sister and you are my nosy friend. That if he says ‘hi’ to us, we will leave.”

  Rage boiled up inside me. Nosy friend? A nosy friend? Why was she doing this? A week ago she was crying, confessing, and apologizing, saying how sorry she was. Now at the first opportunity she got she was taking advantage and shutting everyone out? She was the one who put him in that hospital bed to begin with!

  “Leur faire quitter,” Xavier mumbled, slow and laborious, head turning back to Jessica. “S'il vous plaît, leur faire quitter.”

  Jessica glanced up and arched a brow at her as if to say, ‘you heard him’.

  Emitting a defeated sigh, Xena started to turn, taking my wrist. “Let’s go, Alina.”

  I stepped out of her reach. “No.”

  “Alin—”

  “No!” I shrieked, panic drowning out the rage. “I’m not leaving him to her. How could you leave him to her? She’ll make him forget about me! She’ll tell him lies. She’ll—”

  “Clue in, Alina,” Jessica chipped in. “He’s already forgotten about you.” Bathing in smugness, she trailed her finger along the snake-shaped stapled scar on his head. “Turns out I’m not so sorry about the accident, after all.”

  Nope. Nope. She did not just say that.

  Before I could think, I was leaping across the bed and clawing at her face. She squalled and jumped back, scampering away. I heard people screaming my name, but I was too focused on trying to tear every red strand out of that bitch’s head.

  Just as I caught a handful of her hair, someone tagged me around my middle, hefted me off the ground and did a 180 with me. I struggled and railed until I was set down on my feet again. I spun around and was met with a disapproving Dr. Beharry. Xavier’s doctor.

  Behind him, I could see a nurse frantically reconnecting tubes and wires that disconnected from Xavier when I leapt over his bed.