For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  Rods and bone grafts and what? My son’s widened eyes oozed fresh tears.

  Bile rose up my throat. This night was worse than when Margot died of an overdose. The only thing I understood with certainty at this point was that Carter would have a lifetime of back problems at best, and paralysis at worst. A silent “No, no, no!” in my brain made it impossible to process anything else.

  “Is his spinal cord severed?” I asked, trying to clear my head.

  “It’s unlikely, but the important thing is how the nerves recover after decompression.” He didn’t sugarcoat anything—that was for sure. But he also didn’t give me the answer I wanted. “Unlikely” wasn’t unequivocal. And what did “recovering” nerves mean? How would Carter’s future be changed?

  “So you plan to operate soon?” Sam asked, settling Kim onto an empty chair before returning to huddle around the doctor and Carter with me and grabbing hold of my hand.

  “As soon as possible, yes.”

  “Spinal surgery . . .” I looked into Sam’s eyes, unconcerned with whom I might offend: “Do we need a second opinion?”

  Sam settled his palm against my cheek to calm me. “This is the best facility in the state, Grace. It sounds urgent, so maybe we shouldn’t waste any time.” He waited for some sign of affirmation before turning back to Dr. Acharya, despite my needing time to slow down so I could catch up. “What happens after surgery?”

  “Fusion recovery takes roughly three to six months, but we mobilize patients as immediately as possible. The hope is that once the swelling subsides and the bone fragments are removed, your son will recover sensation and the use of his legs. Resulting muscle damage or weakness will make it a difficult recovery, requiring weeks or months of inpatient rehab.”

  “Months?” I gasped.

  He nodded, like this was business as usual instead of the beginning of a whole new life for our family. “The average inpatient stay for T-level burst fractures is in the mid-fifty-day range.”

  Fear suffused Carter’s face, striking me like a thousand needles to my heart. I couldn’t crawl into the bed and hug my child with the braces and the IV and all of it, but the urge overwhelmed me.

  “After that, he’ll be able to walk?” I wanted to shake the doctor until he gave us the answer we needed to hear, but Sam draped one arm around my shoulders to hold me tight.

  “Honey, he’s saying we should be optimistic.” He darted a glance at the doctor for confirmation. “The spinal cord doesn’t seem to be severed, so that’s the good news.” Then he smiled at Carter as if we’d been given a gift.

  How Sam remained calm defied comprehension. It was as if he wasn’t hearing what I was hearing or taking it as seriously. Or was I the one mistaken? I searched Dr. Acharya’s eyes for any flicker of positivity, but he must’ve been trained to avoid making false promises. To him, Carter was one of many injuries tonight. He didn’t know the sweet toddler whose mood had been affected by sad songs, the big brother who’d lovingly built sandcastles with his little sister, or the dedicated student who wanted to change the world.

  Dr. Acharya nodded. “We simply cannot know the extent of the damage until we get in there. Throughout my career, I’ve seen any number of outcomes.” He looked at Carter. “There’s significant swelling now, which could account for your deficits. Once that subsides, we’ll know more. Some of it will be dependent on your commitment to recovery as well. Also, as with any surgery, sometimes there can be complications. We can’t give a definitive answer at this point. But I have reason to remain optimistic, and you should, too.”

  I found the courage to look Carter in the eyes and smile so that he didn’t lose hope or fall apart. “We can do this.”

  Carter’s gaze grew distant, like it often did when he worked out a problem. If only my love could seep beneath his skin and mend his bones and nerves, I would squeeze him tight.

  Dr. Acharya said, “Since he’s a minor, we need your consent to operate. We’ll discuss all the risks when we go over the forms. But again, we’d like to get started as soon as possible to minimize the damage.”

  I nodded blankly, unable to take it all in. My mind remained mired in the lack of assurances. The thought of my baby in a wheelchair for the rest of his life unleashed a bloom of hatred for the football team. Not my norm. My school volunteering meant I’d known many of them for years. Seen them win spelling bees and football championships. Worked alongside their mothers to raise money and organize activities. We’d been a constant—if small—part of each other’s lives. Never had I believed any of them could cause this kind of damage, or turn me into someone filling with rage. But there it was. Rage and fury igniting because Carter was too young to be stuck in a chair for the rest of his life.

  Sam was too attuned to Carter and the doctor to notice how my entire body had gone cold and stiff. “Anything else we should know?”

  Suddenly my husband’s calm, collected demeanor made me feel isolated, adding to my upset.

  “Let me get the forms and go through the risks so we can get your son prepped for the OR.” Dr. Acharya left us without delay.

  Carter stared into space, eyes watery and unblinking. To what dark, terrifying places were his thoughts veering? A soul-crushing helplessness made me woozy.

  Mothers are supposed to protect their children, not feebly offer comfort after the worst happens. I’d let my guard down for one minute, and boom, his future was destroyed. The only thing I could do for him now was hide my worry to assuage his.

  I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, whispering, “This is an excellent hospital, and the doctor is very experienced. He sounds optimistic, so we need to keep the faith, okay? Dad and I will do everything possible to help you recover. Everything.”

  “What if he’s wrong? What if I can’t walk?” Carter croaked, his breath coming short and fast, which made him wince in pain.

  His fear dipped my heart in acid, leaving me speechless.

  Sam squeezed my shoulder before drawing closer to the bed. He leaned in to kiss our son’s head, too. “Bud, he’s seen hundreds of these injuries and seen your tests. He’s a straight shooter, so if walking was a long shot, he’d say so. We’re in great hands. I expect a good result.”

  Carter’s gaze darted to me, so I mirrored Sam’s confidence—not because I believed him but to decrease Carter’s anxiety. Our son relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained misty. “What about school?”

  “We’ll figure that out later,” Sam promised. “If you need private tutors to keep up, we’ll get them. But don’t worry about that tonight. Your only job right now is to stay positive and to pray.”

  Kim slid off the chair, grabbed her dad’s hand, and tugged. “Daddy, what happened to Carter?”

  Sam drew in a deep breath—the only sign that his energy levels were flagging more than he’d been letting on. “There was an accident—he had a big fall.”

  An accident. That’s what Mimi had told the police. But could a mere accident cause this much damage? I stopped short of accusing anyone of such malice, but those boys had been bothering Carter for two weeks. Had they pushed him on purpose?

  I didn’t share my thoughts.

  Sam continued, “Carter will have surgery, and before we know it, this will be behind us.”

  Life would be lived easier in his fantasy world. Had he not heard the doctor’s equivocation, or considered the difficulty that months of in- and outpatient rehab posed? And that didn’t even begin to cover the long-term effects of having rods and pins in one’s spine. It would be hard enough for Carter to get through this, but without the certainty of Sam and me being in lockstep as usual, I was untethered.

  Carter’s life would never be the same. This injury—this night—would never be put fully behind us. It was like Dad’s and Margot’s deaths all over again—the cops, the tragic news, the mistakes acknowledged in hindsight.

  Of course, that brought my mother to mind. I’d rather not share this news until we knew its full scope, but she lived near
by and could take Kim off our hands tonight. “Kim, honey, let’s call Grammy to pick you up for a sleepover, okay?”

  Sam looked at me with surprise.

  I shrugged to answer the question in his eyes as I dialed my mother. “She’s fifteen minutes away, and this isn’t any place for Kim to spend the night.”

  He ran a hand over his hair. “I rushed here without thinking to send her to one of her friends’ homes.”

  I didn’t blame him. I’d been frantic, too.

  Mom’s sleepy voice answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Mom, it’s me. I’m sorry to wake you, but there’s been an accident and we need your help.” I flushed. At forty-one years old, I’d yet to resolve our complicated relationship. She’d never been cruel, but her weakness had scarred me. Fair or not, I would always indirectly blame her for Margot’s death. Like Carter might now grow up blaming me for his injury because I’d let him go to that party.

  “What’s happened?”

  I downplayed the seriousness of Carter’s fall despite Sam giving me eyes about that. If she knew the full story, she might insist on sitting with us all night. Her love for my children was true, but I didn’t need the undercurrent of friction between us tonight. “Would you mind driving here to take Kim for the night?”

  “Of course. I’ll put on some clothes and come right over.”

  “Thank you, Mom. See you soon.”

  After hanging up, I took a deep breath to ward off the anxiety tightening my chest. Between my son’s uncertain recovery and knowing I’d probably need more of my mother’s help in the coming weeks, the future looked dim.

  Sam said, “I’ll take Kim to meet her so you can stay with Carter.”

  “Thank you.” I grabbed Kim into a hug and kissed her cheeks. “Be good for Grammy, okay? We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Kim’s expression seemed a mask of confusion—maybe even of fear. A first for my sassy, confident child. Until now, it hadn’t even occurred to me that Carter’s injuries would also affect her. “Okay.”

  Tunnel vision had me so focused on that thought that I jerked with surprise when Sam touched my elbow. “Call me if they come with the forms before I’ve handed Kim over.”

  “I will.” I waved them off, watching him and Kim disappear beyond the blue curtain. Oddly, my breath came easier with Sam gone—something I’d never before felt.

  “Mom, I’m still scared,” Carter confessed once we were alone.

  My watery eyes betrayed me. I cleared my throat and squeezed his hand. “It’s okay to be scared. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t. But you’re young and healthy. There’s no reason to think your body won’t heal well. I trust the doctor, Carter. We’ll follow every instruction to a tee. It will be difficult, but you’ve never shied away from difficult things before.”

  My calm tone belied the circus of emotions in my heart. I wanted to turn back time. To disappear and wake up anywhere else. Another scream gathered in my mouth, so I clenched my jaw to keep it inside.

  “But what if it doesn’t work? What if I am paralyzed?” Carter’s voice cracked before he started to cry.

  “Oh, honey, please don’t think that way.” I kept running my hand over his scalp to settle him so his shaking didn’t inadvertently make anything worse. “You know the science behind the power of positive thinking. And the doctor would’ve been bound to tell us if there was no chance. But even if it were a remote chance, you must believe that you could be the exception.”

  I kissed him again, but my words hadn’t relieved any of the tension in his face, so I said, “Remember that football player from Pittsburgh—Ryan what’s-his-name? They thought he might never walk again, but now he can. Have his attitude—stay determined and work for what you want. The mind is powerful, so start sending healing vibes right now.”

  “But what if we do all that and it doesn’t work?” Carter had reverted from a know-it-all teen to a frightened child, and I couldn’t blame him. The terror in his heart broke mine. Relentless self-reproach—that I should’ve fought Sam harder about the party—pounded in my head. Why had I given in?

  “If—and that’s a big if—but if that’s the outcome, then we’ll deal with it together.” I aimed to reassure us both while considering the worst-case scenario. “Think of all the people, from athletes to soldiers, who’ve lost the use of some part of their body and yet gone on to live amazing lives and accomplish the unbelievable. If you can’t walk, it won’t be the end of your life, Carter. You don’t need to be able to run to be a scientist or engineer. And you know as well as anyone how rapidly science is evolving—stem cells and robotics—so who knows what treatments there might be in the future? We will never give up hope. Never. I mean it. Till my dying day, I will research every option if we must. But right now I’m putting my faith in Dr. Acharya. You should, too.”

  He nodded, seeming temporarily emboldened, thank God. I wanted to believe everything I’d said, but my stomach wasn’t buying it.

  Sam returned at the same time the doctor and nurse came in to inform us of the miles-long list of risks and have us sign a bunch of papers. We listened as they spoke, me staring at my husband, remembering the gorgeous spring day we’d brought Carter home from the hospital. Sam’s fascination with Carter’s tiny fingers and the scent of his tiny fuzzy head could still bring tears to my eyes. The span of time between then and now bent in half as we signed form after form.

  As soon as they whisked Carter away, my torso caved in and I buried my face in my hands, crying. Sam rubbed my back, yet I felt nothing. This happened because we’d broken our pact. He’d changed the rules on me without warning, and now our unshakable trust seemed tenuous.

  His eyes were wet, too, as he squeezed my hands and set his expression to one of confidence. “We have to hold it together. And whatever the final news, Grace, we cannot break down in front of Carter. If the worst comes to pass, we can’t act like it’s the end of the world.”

  I jerked my hands free. “I know. Dammit, don’t you think I know that? I’m doing my best. Right now I’m terrified, so it’s a little hard to smile. But I’ll keep it together in front of our son.”

  Sam raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to upset you. How can I help?”

  “Only the doctor can help us now,” I snapped, unleashing pent-up anger now that Carter wouldn’t see me unspool.

  When Sam winced, I felt nothing. No regret for sniping at him. No empathy for his pain and worry. Nothing. My own pain and regret consumed me, so I couldn’t soothe him. The only person in the entire world I wanted to reassure right then was my son.

  “It’s going to be a long night. Let’s see if we can find something to eat, and get more coffee, okay? It won’t do Carter any good for us to get run-down.”

  Reluctantly I followed Sam out to the waiting room, where we saw a cop talking to a nurse at the main desk. When they spotted us, the nurse pointed and the cop walked toward us.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Phillips?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s us.” Exhaustion settled in my bones now that Carter had been taken away and I had room to breathe.

  “Hi. I’m Officer Jones. I’ve been sent to follow up on the incident that happened earlier tonight at the Gillette home. Can I talk to your son?”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s been taken into emergency surgery.” My attention split between Carter and wondering what the police had found out. Only then did Mimi cross my mind. She’d looked as horrified as I’d felt. So had Rowan. The cops might still be at her house. I didn’t know how to feel about that—my worry for Carter squeezed everyone else out of my heart. “Have there been arrests?”

  “We’re bringing in a few kids for questioning, but it’s an ongoing investigation. Once we complete that, then, if supported, charges will be filed.”

  “If supported?” I glanced at Sam. “The house was filled with alcohol and my son was injured. Surely there will be consequences. It’s hard to believe that Carter—who was sober—fell down a flight of stairs
for no reason.”

  “I’m very sorry about his injuries,” she said. “We’d like to get your son’s version of events as soon as possible. As time passes, details get forgotten. Do you think he’ll be able to talk to us in the morning?”

  It would have been kinder of her to ask how he was doing rather than lament her inability to question him, although I supposed she had a job to do.

  “What are those boys saying?” I asked, growing aggravated at the injustice of their able-bodied, uninjured selves crawling into their beds tonight.

  “Like I said, we’re still investigating. But you’ll get a copy of the final report when it’s done.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, some of those boys had been giving Carter a hard time all week.” I would make an allowance for Rowan, but only him. He’d been too much a part of our lives for me to conceive that he would purposely hurt Carter. “All because of the damn budget debate, if you can believe it. I admit, it seemed a little suspicious when they suddenly invited Carter to a party this week.”

  The expression of disapproval on Sam’s face didn’t dissuade me or slow my train of thought.

  The officer made a note. “Opinions aside, we need firsthand accounts from eyewitnesses.”

  “Like my wife said, now isn’t a good time.” Sam frowned. “We’ll call when Carter’s settled and able to talk.”

  “All right,” she said. “Good luck to him. I hope everything turns out okay.”

  “Thank you.” I watched her exit the hospital.

  If those boys had pushed Carter on purpose, I wouldn’t shed a tear upon seeing them in handcuffs. An almost vengeful glee slithered through me until I pictured Mimi panicked and dealing with the fallout on her own. A stab of sympathy for my friend pierced my chest, but the mother in me wanted everyone responsible to pay for my son’s injuries. Mimi had knowingly rolled the dice by allowing boys to drink at her house since last year. My son’s needing spinal surgery as a result of such a party dampened my empathy.