by L. M. Carr
“He’s alive physically, but there’s no guarantee what he’ll be like when or if he wakes up.”
An ache fills my heart.
“He’s so young.” I turn watery eyes on Tyler and sigh, feeling remorseful for having treated him indifferently, and sometimes even unkindly, over the years.
“And handsome,” she adds before turning to the door. “I’ll be back soon. His sheets need to be changed and he needs a sponge bath. He could use a haircut, too.”
I shiver at the thought of this nurse touching him intimately.
My arms cross over my chest in anger when I picture him having sex with Penny that night at the bar. I remember her legs were wrapped around his bare ass and her hands ran wildly through his hair and over his neck. According to the intimate stories Alex had told me, Tyler enjoyed a rather colorful sex life. He doesn’t seem like the type of man to depend on anyone, and though I don’t know Tyler well at all, I’m pretty sure he’d be mortified at the idea of some stranger caring for him.
It’s hard to determine if what I feel is anger or sympathy. Where are all the people who cheered him on? Where are all the people who came to my husband’s funeral? Where is Penny? Why isn’t she here caring for him? Why isn’t she holding his hand, talking to him or bathing him?
And his family? As far as I knew, Tyler had no family. His parents split up when he was a kid and his mom lived out west. I thought that’s why he gravitated toward Alex so much. The years between them were plenty, but they were the best of friends. One might even have thought they were brothers.
I run my palms over my face and release a deep breath of exasperation.
So many questions and no answers.
Judging by my internal clock, I realize it’s time to go home and get some rest. My body is weary and my lids are heavy. I yawn as I walk over to the chair and toss my bag over my shoulder. A series of pictures grabs my attention.
They all appear to be of Tyler at different ages. Tyler on a dirt bike. Tyler on the pitcher’s mound. Tyler at the Grand Canyon. Tyler playing hockey. Tyler smiling with an elderly couple. Tyler holding an infant swaddled in a hospital blanket.
Each photo tells a story of his life, but it’s the black and white picture that calls to me. I lift it, inspecting the image captured along a beach. A young Tyler stands alongside a boy who looks just like him. Their white polo shirts and board shorts match the color scheme of the pretty woman and handsome, dark-haired man who stand behind them as each embraces a child lovingly. The joy of this family is apparent in the smiles on their tanned faces. It’s obvious how much love is shared amongst them.
“You have a twin.” I glance to the side at Tyler. “I didn’t know that about you.”
I chuckle humorlessly and wonder how I would have known that anyway. The only glimpse into Tyler Strong was through my husband’s perspective, through his words, through his eyes.
I yawn again and set the picture back in its place.
“I’ve got to go Tyler. I worked all night and as much as I don’t want to go home, I have to. Can I tell you something?” I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. It’s not like he’s going to answer anyway.
“It’s so quiet at the house. I miss the sound of the trucks. I miss Alex talking about racing. I miss seeing you wait by the truck. I’m surprised you never took off a coat of paint with all the waxing you did while you waited for Alex to come out.”
Laughter erupts when I realize how crazy I must look talking to myself.
“I’ll be back in a few days. I might even bring something back for you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see the fingers of his left hand curl inward.
“Have fun. Be safe,” I utter quietly.
I close the door behind me, hoping Tyler has a good ride even if it’s only in his dreams.
***
THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY after dodging phone calls from Alex’s attorney for several days, I finally slide my finger across the screen and accept his call.
“Hello, Roger. What can I do for you?” My voice is even and stiff. Roger had not only been Alex’s attorney and closest confidante for years, but also the one who’d saved his ass so many times in their younger days. I still can’t believe how reckless they had once been. The women. The sex. The parties.
“Karrie,” he starts then pauses with a raspy timbre. It appears the years of hard alcohol and smoking cigars have finally caught up to him.
“I’m so sorry. I got back from Africa late last night and just heard about Alex. My God, I don’t know what to say.”
That makes two of us. Words evade me as thoughts scurry away from my brain.
I hear him sigh on the other end of the line. “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, I tell Roger about the accident. I spare him the horrific details I witnessed at the hospital when he was brought in.
“I am so sorry.” It’s obvious he’s fighting a losing battle with his emotions. “Alex is gone.” The resolve in his voice wanes as reality sets in. Alex is gone.
“You were a good friend to him. I know he cared about you very much.”
“He was like a brother to me.”
I nod even though he can’t see me.
“Can I come see you?”
“Why?” I blurt out and then restate my words. “What do you need to see me about? Is this about his will?”
“Karrie, please. I need to see you…in person.”
“I’m working all week,” I lie. “We can meet next week.”
“I’d rather see you sooner than that if you don’t mind.”
“What’s the rush?”
“I need to tell you something before you get ser—”
“Served? Is that what you were going to say?” I spit as a flood of disgust rips through my tense body.
“Oh God.” I hear the pity in his voice and the creak of his chair. “You know already, don’t you?”
“Know what? That my husband filed for divorce before he died?”
A rush of air releases from his lungs. The silence builds until he utters on simple word, “Yes.”
“Does it really matter now? He died! My husband died!” Tears spring to my eyes and release in a torrent.
“I’m coming to see you. Don’t leave.” The line goes dead instantly.
An hour later, I answer the door and am hauled into Roger’s chest. His button-down dress shirt reeks of smoke and stale whiskey. Minutes tick by as he offers and receives comfort for the death of his friend Alex.
I lead him into the living room and we sit adjacent to one another. I sit in the single chair as he takes a seat on the oversized sofa.
“Karrie, I have to tell you how shocked I am by this almost as much as I’m sure you are. I had no idea. He never said a word. He didn’t seek advice from me. He didn’t file with me. I’m completely dumbfounded by this whole thing. And what makes matters worse is the bastard isn’t even here to answer any questions.”
I search into his gaze, trying to find a shred of deceit in his eyes, but I find nothing but pure shock and surprise. He really didn’t know Alex was going to leave me.
“How did you find out then?” I wonder aloud. “If he didn’t file with you, how did you know?”
“I received a certified copy of the letter seeking the divorce with a Post-It note attached that said, ‘I’ll explain later. I need to do this.’ ”
I sit there solemnly, absorbing his words, knowing I’ll never have the opportunity to ask Alex the millions of questions I have.
“There’s more I need to tell you.”
Roger rises and sits closer to me, taking my hand in his, preparing me for more bad news. A lump forms in my throat, and I force it down.
“Alex changed the beneficiary of his will.”
Goosebumps dot my skin as my blood runs cold.
“He what!? Why?” I scream, pulling my hand away and yanking at my long hair. “Why would he do that? I don’t understand!”
“I don’t know! He had be
come distant and…secretive. I thought he was having a mid-life crisis or something.”
“Who is it?”
“What?” Roger’s eyes widen, rounding like giant orbs and he swallows nervously.
“Who is it? Who’s the beneficiary?”
With shagging shoulders, Rogers sighs in what seems like relief.
“Tyler.”
“Tyler?” I breathe. “Tyler Strong?”
Roger tightens his lips and he nods a glum confirmation.
“I,” I stutter. “I don’t understand any of this. We had a good marriage. Was it perfect? No, we had our problems. No one’s marriage is perfect, but this—
I race to the bathroom, slam the door shut and vomit what little sustenance I was able to keep down at lunch.
Ignoring the soft knock on the door and Roger’s pleas, I kneel over the porcelain bowl and continue to unleash the involuntarily purging of my stomach. It feels as though my soul is being expunged, too.
An eternity seems to stretch as the afternoon sun descends in the sky, its light shining brightly through the window as if taunting me with happiness.
“Call me later. We can talk about your options.”
When I’m sure he’s gone, I open the bathroom door, go upstairs to shower and drive over to get some answers. I’ll wait forever if I have to
SIX DAYS LATER stiff and stone-faced, I lean forward with my elbows bent, resting on the cushioned arms of the chair. I carefully watch the rise and fall of Tyler’s chest. My blinks become few and far between as my eyes focus on his every movement. I don’t speak to him today. I can’t be responsible for the hateful words I’ll spew.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” An older nurse asks after she checks Tyler’s vitals.
I draw my eyes up slowly and meet hers. I shake my head subtly, wordlessly.
“He’s not going to be too happy to see you like that when he wakes up again.”
Again, my eyes snap upward. “What did you say?”
“He’s going to want to see you healthy with a pretty glow on your face.”
My lips curl upward. “What are you talking about? When did he wake up?”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “A few days ago. He opened his eyes and looked directly at the chair you’re sitting in. He let out this deep howl and then closed his eyes. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”
I blink and return my eyes to Tyler. “No.”
“I think he was looking for you.”
My breathing quickens as my heart beats harder.
I don’t respond.
“I know what all the young people around here think. I’m a nurse. I get the science behind it all, but I also see the connection between people’s souls. I feel it in here.” She flattens her palm against her heart. “His soul was looking for yours. He’s waiting for you to bring him back or let him go.”
Tears fill my eyes at the thought of letting go. I’ve lost so much already.
“He needs to come back,” I whisper.
The plump, kind-hearted woman walks over, pats my shoulder and smiles.
“Then tell him that.”
Moments later, I’m left alone with Tyler.
Dragging the heavy chair closer to his bed, I rest my chin on the rail and stare at the man who conspired with my husband to take everything from me.
“I hate you,” I whisper through gritted teeth as angry tears spring from my eyes.
“I hate you so much. You and Alex…I hate you both so much. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but you’re not going to win. You are not going to take my life away from me. I won’t let you.”
I swipe my sleeve across my nose as I hiccup through tears.
“I will find out why you guys did this to me and I will never forgive you.”
Beep, beep. The monitor increases its usual pattern. Beep, beep, beep.
“What’s the matter? I know you can hear me.” I rise to my feet and lean over the bed, my mouth inches from his face. “Open your goddamn eyes and look at me!”
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
“C’mon you stupid jerk! Open. Your. Eyes!”
Tyler’s eyes, although still closed, move erratically as if he’s trying desperately to open them. His lips twitch and purse.
“That’s it! Wake up!” I raise my voice, encouraging him. “I need you to wake up.”
Again his eyelids flutter but then close.
My voice drops to an ominous tone, my words emerging through gritted teeth. “It’s okay, Tyler. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you wake up.” Little does he know that my wrath also awaits him.
I sit back in the chair and stare at him. He holds the answers to my questions. I’ve got time. Plenty of time.
A few hours later, after his vitals have been checked for the umpteenth time, Barbara, the grandmotherly nurse looks back and forth between Tyler and me.
“There’s a lot of negative energy in the room. I feel it. Why don’t you take a walk? Go get some fresh air.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as I shake my head and decline her recommendation.
“What does he like?”
“Excuse me?”
“Tyler. What things make him happy?”
“How should I know?” My forehead wrinkles with disdain.
“Aren’t you two together?”
“No! I hate him!”
It’s her turn to look confused. “If you hate him, why are you here then?”
“Because…well, because…I…it’s complicated. He has something I need.”
She smirks. “I’m sure he does.” Then she winks.
“He has answers. I need answers.”
“In God’s time, darling. In His time.”
I stare at her blankly.
“I’m going on lunch soon. Care to join me?”
“Thanks, but no. I’m going to wait for him to wake up.”
“And when he does, be kind. Whatever this animosity is, you can’t bombard him with it right away. He’s been through enough hell; don’t you think?”
My cell phone rings and my mom’s name appears on the screen.
I stand, walk to the door, and step into the hallway toward the waiting area before I answer the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, love. Where are you?”
I trace the joint line of the linoleum tile with the tip of my shoe. “At the hospital.”
“Oh, you’re working? I thought you had today off.”
“No. I’m here with Tyler,” I confess quietly then close my eyes as if that might drown out her next words.
“Why? Why are you torturing yourself? Sweetheart, he can’t bring Alex back.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I open my eyes and exhale through my nose. “I need to talk to him. I need to be here when he wakes up.”
“Your dad and I want to take you for dinner before we leave.”
“Okay,” I agree, knowing my stomach won’t be able to retain much anyway.
“Are you sure you’re okay with us leaving for a few weeks?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. Go. You’ve had this trip planned for so long.”
“Call me when you get home. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Just as I turn to reenter Tyler’s room, a petite woman with shoulder length hair walks in, towing a cute little boy gently behind her. I move closer to the door and watch through the small rectangular window as she lifts the boy onto Tyler’s bed.
“Barbara,” I call as the nurse heads down for lunch. “Who’s that?” I motion with my chin.
“That’s Stacy, Tyler’s mom.” A smile spreads on her face, pulling her full cheeks back, revealing high cheek bones. “And the little guy is Tre.”
“His mom?”
“Yep.”
“Is that his son?”
She shrugs.
“That I don’t know.”
“Thanks.”
I stand against the wall, lurking for several more minutes unt
il I hear a child’s cry and instinctively, I rush into the room.
“What happened?” I ask, noticing a few blood drops on the floor near Tre’s feet.
“Oh, baby. Let me see!” Stacy inspects Tre’s fingers and hand, assuring him that it’s only a small cut and that he’ll be fine. She scoops him up and brings him to the sink to wash his hands off.
I move closer and ask if I can have a look.
She tosses me a suspicious look and asks who I am.
“I’m a nurse. I actually work here.”
My words must convince her because she sets Tre on the small counter and allows me to inspect the cut.
“What happened?”
“He accidentally knocked over the vase of flowers. He’s an accident waiting to happen.”
I set about cleaning the superficial wound with antiseptic, smiling at the adorable boy.
“I’m Karrie, by the way.”
“Stacy.” She offers her hand and stares at me for a long while. She then smiles warmly and turns her sights on Tyler. “My boy’s still not woken up again, huh?”
My eyes follow and land on him as well.
“No, but he will.” I clear my throat. “He has to.”
“I can’t lose another son.” Her voice drips with pain.
I gasp. “You lost a son?”
“Four years ago,” she mumbles quietly. “Still feels like yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry.” And I truly am. The death of a loved one is almost unbearable.
An awkward silence permeates the room until Tre asks to get down.
“Let me clean up the glass. We don’t need any more injuries, right buddy?”
From my squatted position, I can hear Stacy talking to her son, urging him to wake up if not for her sake, for Tre’s.
I deposit the broken pieces of glass into the garbage and wash my hands all before grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
“I’m going home. It was nice meeting you.”
Another warm smile beams from her face. “Hope to see you again. Thank you for taking care of my boy. He and Tre are all I’ve got left.”
My legs carry me quickly to her as my arms wrap around her thin shoulders.
“He’s going to make it.”
“Thank you,” she sniffs.
Walking to the door, I pull it open and step through.