“Jesse!” I screamed.
“Miss, you need to stay back,” a firefighter said, but I ignored him.
He lay on that gurney, his left arm swollen and red. I swallowed some bile, my throat burning. Layers of his skin had been melted away. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. His sleepy eyes stared at nothing. I touched him gently, afraid my touch would hurt him.
“Jesse,” I whispered, my throat dry and hoarse. His light blue eyes blinked in recognition to the sound of my voice. “What were you doing in there?” I cried.
The paramedics began to lift the gurney up into the ambulance before he had the chance to answer me.
“Let me ride with him,” I said and coughed. My chest ached.
“Miss, you need to be examined,” the paramedic told me.
“No,” I argued. “I don’t want to leave him.”
The paramedic looked over my shoulder and moved his eyes to the right, giving a signal to someone. I turned and saw another paramedic standing right behind me. “We need to examine you,” this one said to me. Before I could protest, he gently took me by the arm and led me to the other ambulance.
“No.” I tried to jerk away, but I was too weak.
He sat me down inside of the ambulance and began to check my vitals. I watched as Jesse was lifted up into the other ambulance. The doors closed and then the ambulance rode away.
“We need to take you to the hospital. What’s your name, Miss?”
“Finley Hemmings,” I answered. “Will he be okay?” I looked at him desperately. “Will he be okay?”
“He should be,” he answered. “You’ve inhaled a lot of smoke.” He pointed to the gurney. “I’d like you to lay down here.”
I did as he requested and lay down while they poked and prodded me with needles and other medical equipment. An oxygen mask was placed over my nose and mouth. The clean, fresh air was an instant relief.
Chapter 22
I lay on a hospital bed, in a crowded room, surrounded by nothing but sick people. The cries of toddlers and babies screaming at the top of their lungs, heart monitors beeping in constant rhythm, doctors and nurses moving hurriedly to each patient, and the agonizing sound of people in pain were all that I could hear. My pulse beat rapidly. It was too difficult to relax with all of that commotion.
My head continued to throb; my chest ached. I was a wreck, a literal wreck. No one had come to check on me. When the paramedics took me into the emergency room, one of the nurses’ found me a bed and then forgot about me. I continued to lay on that stiff, uncomfortable flat mattress for a long time.
A nurse finally came and checked my vitals. “We need to take you up to Radiology to have a chest X-ray,” she said to me. She didn’t ask me my name. She didn’t introduce herself. I was just another patient in a row of many.
“Jesse Quinn. Can you tell me how he is?” I asked.
“Who?” She checked the monitor and then looked at me with a confused expression.
“Jesse Quinn,” I repeated. “He was in the fire, too. He was burnt.”
“I don’t know. Sorry,” she said in a curt tone. It really bothered me that she apologized, but was being insincere about it. What’s the point? Why say sorry if it’s not sincere?
A few minutes later, I was wheeled up to Radiology and I still didn’t know anything about Jesse.
***
After sitting through a series of X-rays, I was wheeled back down to the emergency room. They wanted to keep me there for a few more hours to monitor me and to take more blood tests to check my oxygen levels in my blood–which they said were low. I’d have to go through another series of chest X-rays, too. I had inhaled a lot of smoke. Too much smoke, they said. It all seemed so insignificant when I thought about what happened to Jesse–his skin’s layers ripped away. The incomprehensible pain he must have experienced. Why did he go into the diner?
I couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to me. I wanted to talk to my Nana. But in the sea of chaos, I was just a part of the daily problems they had to deal with, and as problems go, mine were minor.
It could have been an hour or even longer, I’m not sure. I lay there and watched as nurses and doctors rushed to patients’ bedsides trying to save their fragile lives.
The minute I saw the look of frenzied worry on both of their forlorn faces, I sobbed hysterically. The tragic events and the uncertainty of what had happened to Jesse, were too much for me to handle.
Nana leaned into me and gently stroked my face. Her warm, soft fingers felt good against my clammy skin. “Finn,” she whispered. “Thank God you’re okay.”
My dad took my hand and held it. “We didn’t know what happened to you,” he said and frowned. “We’ve never been so scared in our lives.”
Having my family with me made it better. I wasn’t as afraid.
“Jesse?” I asked. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. They only mentioned you, and we came as soon as we got the call,” she answered. “Jesse was hurt?”
“He was in the fire,” I started and then the tears began to fall again. “I don’t know why he went in there, Nana. It doesn’t make sense. I’m so afraid,” I confessed, peering into her eyes and searching for comfort.
“I’ll go see what I can find out,” my dad said. He gave me a “don’t you worry” expression and walked toward the nurses’ station. It was the first time I’d ever seen him take charge of a situation.
“I’m so worried,” I fretted.
“I know, honey. I’m sure Jesse’s going to be fine,” she said.
I think deep down she was just as uncertain as I was. I couldn’t get the image out of my head–his arm burnt beyond repair. Every time I thought about it, my insides hurt and my heart ached. Jesse was somewhere in that hospital, in pain, and I couldn’t help him. I felt so helpless.
No one would tell my father anything. They told him that since he wasn’t related to Jesse, that meant no disclosure. They didn’t realize that Jesse was a part of our family and that we had the right to know what was happening to him. I was desperate to know something and considered getting up off of that bed and pounding my fists on the table and shouting until I got my way. That’s what they do in the movies. It always seemed to work. But, I knew that wouldn’t get me anywhere, and I was still a little weak from the fire. The oxygen was helping. My breath was becoming more even, and the rattle in my chest had all but subsided.
Nana and my dad continued to sit by my side as I lay there slowly going crazy wondering when I was going to know something about Jesse and when I would be released from that awful hospital. As I lay there, I questioned why I ever intended to be a doctor. I hate hospitals. I hate the smell–the horrid disinfectant that permeates the stifling sterile air. I hate that everyone is either sick or dying–that people are taking their last breath in an environment that isn’t welcoming, that isn’t home. But that was the old Finn–the Finn who wanted to be a doctor because her mother told her that was what she should be. I wasn’t that Finn anymore.
“Does Matt know about Jesse?” I asked. Matt was one of the few relatives he had in Graceville. His Uncle, Matt’s father, was a truck driver and wasn’t in town that often. I had never met him.
“I’m not sure,” Nana said.
“You should call him,” I said. I realized I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t have anything in my purse. All of its contents were now ashes.
“I will, honey. I need to call Sidney, too. I left the house in such a hurry and didn’t leave a note for her.”
“Call them both,” I ordered and then watched as her face became crestfallen. I kicked myself internally for being so inconsiderate and impatient. She was in just as much shock as I was. Her husband’s diner had just burned to the ground and it was one of the few things left living that was a part of hi
m. Now it was gone–with all of its memories.
“I’m sorry,” I said remorsefully.
“It’s fine. You’ve had a bad night,” she said to me, giving a half smile. “Pete,” she said to my father, “get Finn and me a Coke, will you please?”
“Nana, I didn’t mean to be so...,” I started. I hated that I had hurt her.
She interrupted, “Finn, don’t. Let’s just try to get through this night.”
***
Finally, after waiting around for several hours, I was cleared to be released from the hospital. Nana, Dad, and I filled out the numerous stacks of seemingly useless paperwork and exited the emergency room in search for the front desk, hoping that a hospital employee would tell us something about Jesse. To my right was an open waiting room, covered in olive green carpet and maroon chairs. Wallpaper with fruit baskets bordered the olive green walls. A large flat screen television played the news. The room was full of stressed people who were waiting to hear any updates about their loved ones. Hannah, Meg, Matt, and an older man with salt and pepper hair and light blue eyes, who must have been Jesse’s uncle given the resemblance, sat in that crowded waiting room with stressed expressions.
“Meg.” We held onto each other tight.
“We were so worried,” she said with a sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. We didn’t know what happened,” Hannah added. They both huddled around me and held onto me with firm, tight grips, as if this were the last time we were going to see each other. I flinched, feeling a little smothered.
They both let go of me. “Finn, oh my gosh, we saw the diner and thought the worst,” Meg said with a sad expression.
“I’m fine,” I lied, giving them a plastic smile. Physically I was better. Mentally, I was a mess.
“What happened?” Meg asked.
“How did it start?” Hannah asked.
I felt surrounded. I was being inundated with questions that I wasn’t prepared to answer. I didn’t want to tell them how the fire started. I didn’t want to relive that moment. I just wanted to know about Jesse.
“Has anyone heard anything about Jesse?” I interrupted them.
“They haven’t told us much of anything,” Matt answered in a frustrated tone. “We’ve only asked them a million times,” he said with annoyance and loud enough for the hospital employee to hear. He glared at her. Hannah touched him and mouthed “stop,” trying to calm him. He ran his fingers though his dark hair. “They have to know something by now.” He folded his arms against his chest, standing in a defiant stance.
I moved to an empty chair and sat down. “Finn, don’t you want to go home and rest a little?” Nana asked, standing over me. She touched my cheeks, her expression was thoughtful.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere until I see Jesse,” I said. “Can one of you call Mom and let her know I’m okay.”
“I will,” my dad said. “I’ll call her for you, Finn.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed to him.
He kissed me on the cheek and left the room. Nana and Meg sat down next to me. Hannah gave me a warm hopeful smile and watched as Matt continued to pace the entire room. Jesse’s uncle stood against the wall watching the television as it blared the twenty-four hour news. We all sat quietly and said nothing. Jesse was on everyone’s minds.
“Mr. Dunne,” a hospital employee said.
“Yes,” Jesse’s uncle answered, as everyone stood up and moved closer to her.
“We have some news about your nephew. He sustained a severe second degree burn on his fore arm. He won’t need skin grafting and is expected to fully recover within eight weeks. They’re more concerned about the amount of smoke he inhaled and are keeping him overnight to monitor him. He’s been moved to room 232.”
I felt a major sense of relief like the whole world had been lifted off of my shoulders. “Can we see him?” Matt asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
We didn’t hesitate for even a second and moved in haste toward the elevator. I impatiently hit the “up” button several times in frustration. I wanted to see him. I had to see him.
The elevator bell rang as the six of us squeezed into the small, confining space. I hit the second floor button, and the door closed. The elevator slowly made its way to the second floor. It would have been faster if I had run up the stairs, I thought. We exited the elevator and searched for room 232, which was all the way down the long corridor.
One-by-one, we entered his hospital room. Jesse lay on the bed, oxygen tubes running through his nose, an IV hooked into his one arm, his eyes barely open. His other arm was completely covered in white bandages. He was drained of all color, the palest I’d ever seen him.
“You look like hell,” Matt nervously teased. Jesse looked awful, frail, not like his usual strong self.
“Thanks,” Jesse said weakly, his voice hoarse and scratchy. “Your mug is not so great, either.”
Nana shook her head and gently touched the top of Jesse’s head. “My sweet boy, we were so worried,” she said.
He smiled weakly and then looked over at me. “Are you okay, Finn?” he asked me. There he was asking how I was, when he was the one on lying on that hospital bed. He was the one in pain.
“I’m fine. It’s you we’re all worried about.”
“I’m good,” he lied and then coughed again. “Have y’all been waiting around all this time for me? You should all go home and get some rest. It’s late.”
“We want to stay here with you,” Meg insisted and Hannah nodded her head in agreement.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that. They said I can’t go back to work for eight weeks.” He coughed and a low rattle hummed from the depths of his sternum. I watched as his chest rose and then fell flat. “I’m pretty beat. Y’all go on home and get some rest.”
Everyone relented, complying with Jesse’s wishes and said their goodbyes. “Let me talk to him for a minute,” I whispered to Nana as we stood near the door about to exit. She gave me an understanding nod and walked out the door, giving us our privacy. I moved toward him and sat in the chair beside his bed.
I laid my hand on top of his palm. “I’m so glad you are all right,” I said. “Jesse, I need to know. Why did you go in the diner,?” I was desperate to know.
He took another deep sounding breath. His tired eyes searched mine. “I thought you were in there, Finn.”
“What?” I asked in disbelief. “Why?”
“I was on my way to the pool and saw the fire. The whole place was up in flames. Then I saw my father lying outside on the ground in front of the diner. He kept saying your name over and over again. I asked him where you were and he just kept saying your name. He was so drunk. I thought you were in there,” he said and grimaced. “I ran inside the diner and searched for you. The smoke was so thick. It was hard to see anything. I couldn’t find you and worried you had passed out from the fire.” He gently squeezed my hand and continued, “The heat was so intense and the fire was spreading so fast. It was getting hard to breathe. Everything in the back of the diner was on fire and coming at me with full force. I knew I couldn’t save you. It was too late. I thought I had lost you,” he said quietly, his lips twisted into a frown. “It was the one of the worst moments in my life, short of losing my mom and Charlie. The thought of losing you, Finn,...” He trailed off and paused for a minute and then said, “As I walked through the thick cloud of smoke toward the door, flames were spreading all over and caught onto my arm. I ran outside and rolled onto the ground to get them off of me.”
I leaned down and lay my head against his heart. Tears fell from my eyes. “It’s my fault. You got hurt because of me. If you hadn’t gone in there,” I began. I hadn’t felt that much guilt since my grandfather died.
He stroked my hair with his han
d. “Shh,” he said soothingly. “It’s not your fault. You and your martyrdom.” He sighed.
I shot up and looked at him. “Yes it is,” I protested. “If I had just cooked for your dad when he came in the diner,” I shook my head “the fire wouldn’t have started and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
His forehead creased, and he gave me a bewildered look. “Cook for my father?”
“He came in when we were closed and wanted something to eat, and I just sent him away when I should have cooked for him,” I cried. “I didn’t know he was so hungry. I just thought he was drunk.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “He broke into the diner and started to cook. I tried to warn him, to tell him not to add so much grease.”
His head tilted forward, his eyebrows burrowed. “He started the fire?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “But not on purpose, Jesse.” I stared into his eyes, trying to get him to see reason, but I could see the look of contempt in his light blue eyes. “All that oil started a grease fire,” I paused, “and he poured water on it. It wasn’t his fault, Jesse. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Quit making excuses for him,” he growled and let go of my hand. “He’s my father, Finn, and he could’ve killed us both!” he shouted. “He. Burned. Down. The. Diner! Not you. He’s a lousy drunk that doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” He placed his hand up to his forehead and ran it down his tense face, his lips turned down. “How will you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” I said in disbelief. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“He’s my father, Finn. And every time you see me, you’ll think about the fact that he’s responsible for burning down your grandfather’s business and that he almost killed you.” His facial expression was stressed.
“You’re wrong, Jesse. You’re so wrong.” I reached for him, carefully touching him.
“Maybe you don’t feel that way tonight, but in time you’ll resent me for being related to him. You’ll blame me for what he did. Finn, what has he done!” he cried, pounding his fist against the bed, and wincing in agony at the same time.
The Year I Almost Drowned Page 23