Metal Urge

by Wilbourn, E. D.

  “Nigel has opened his eyes.”

  As Deanna grabbed his hands crying “Thank God,” he patted her hands gently and shook his head. “The doctor said it’s a good sign but not to get our hopes up, at least until they've done another brain scan.”

  “It’s the first time he’s opened his eyes in almost two weeks, yeah?” Thom said. “I’m gonna take that as a very good sign.”

  “I agree with Thom,” Deanna said, squeezing Neville’s hands. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she was desperate to see Nigel. If he knew she was there maybe it would help him, especially if she could talk to him, encourage him with her love and support.

  “Neville, I don’t want push but…”

  He smiled at her and nodded, “I’ve finally convinced mum and dad to let you see him when the doctors say it’s alright of course.”

  “Thank you, Neville!” Deanna cried, hugging him with all of the strength she could muster.

  Thom nodded his agreement. “I think she’s just what he needs right now. I’ll be chuffed to tell the lads they can visit him as well. They come by or call the hospital every day hoping to hear some good news.”

  “I’m sure we can arrange a visit for all of you,” Neville smiled. He was rather surprised that Thom had been able to put aside his feelings of hurt and betrayal to lend support for Nigel. He was almost positive that he wouldn’t be so noble if thrust into the same situation of losing his wife to his best mate. He clapped Thom on the back and told Deanna he would let her know about visitation as soon as the doctor gave his approval.

  She gave Thom a hug after Neville left, murmuring her thanks for his support. It didn’t really surprise her all that much. That was exactly the kind of man Thom McCordy was and always would be.

  ****

  “Deanna?” Neville touched her shoulder gently.

  She jerked her head up and looked around. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  Sighing, Neville sat down. He handed her a steaming cup of coffee prepared just the way she liked it. “You’ve been here all night, love.”

  With a bittersweet smile, she thanked him and took a sip of the scalding brew. Staring at Neville, tears filled her tired, red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t want to leave him…he needs me.”

  “Indeed he does, but he needs you to stay healthy and keep up your strength.” Neville looked at her, concern furrowing his brow, “You need to get some proper rest.”

  “I will,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

  They finished off their coffee, and Deanna stretched her sore, stiff muscles which were cramped from sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chair all night. “Do you think I’ll be able to see him today?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Thank you, Neville! Thank you so much!” She ran her fingers through her hair to get some of the tangles out. “Can I see him now? I have to clean up a bit; I don’t want him to see me looking like…”

  “I need to talk to you first,” Neville began as Deanna stood up and started for the ladies room. “Wait! Deanna, please wait!” He jumped up and went after her, grabbing her arm and leading her back to the seating area.

  She looked at him oddly then fear clouded her features. “He’s okay, right? Neville, please tell me he’s okay.” Her voice was high and turning panicky.

  Neville held her shoulders, massaging them gently, hoping to calm her down. “He’s stable at the moment, but you need to understand that he…well, his injuries...they’re quite severe.” He cupped her face gently, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before, but he doesn’t look like the Nigel you said goodbye to on Christmas morning. It’s going to be quite a shock I’m afraid.”

  Deanna sagged against the chair and swallowed hard. “What…what does he…?” She was unable to finish her sentence as tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Neville rubbed his face, looking down at the floor while he worked out what to say and how to say it.

  “Just tell me the truth, Neville. I need to know.”

  Taking a deep breath, Neville leaned back and crossed his arms. He cleared his throat a couple of times, feeling Deanna tense up beside him. “His head is shaved. It was necessary to do so in order to perform a procedure to help alleviate the pressure on his brain. His nose was crushed and most of his front teeth knocked out. His left arm was nearly severed at the shoulder, and they don’t know if he will have the use of it until it heals.”

  Deanna moaned and covered her face with shaking hands. When he asked if she wanted him to go on, she nodded, trying desperately to keep from screaming in anguish.

  “Both of his hips were shattered, as well as his knees and his right ankle. The doctors don’t know if he will…ever walk again.” Neville stopped and wiped his eyes, his breath hitching. “He has some bleeding internally and they still haven‘t found the cause. He’s covered in cuts and bruises, some quite severe.” Neville took a deep, shaky breath, “and his larynx was crushed.”

  He turned to Deanna, his face a mask of pain. “The throat specialist believes the injury was caused by the steering wheel given the nature of the damage. He has no idea if surgery will help. Nigel may never be able to speak again.”

  Pushing herself out of the chair, Deanna apologized and stumbled towards the ladies room.

  After the door closed with a soft whoosh, Neville heard a faint keening sound that seemed to go on and on and on. When the door finally opened, Deanna walked towards him, her shoulders back, and her expression composed.

  “I’d like to see Nigel now. I want him to know I’m here for him and that I love him and always will. No matter what.”

  Neville held her hand tightly as they approached the lift, praying that she could hold it together when she saw Nigel laying in that cold, sterile room, hooked up to so many tubes and wires that he looked like something out of a horror film.

  She smiled up at him as they entered the lift, trying to conceal the gut-wrenching pain ripping her heart and soul to shreds. “Dear God, give me strength,” she prayed silently. “Please, God…for Nigel’s sake.”

  ****

  Nightmares are born of cold, dark spaces permeated by the smell of impending death and despair.

  Deanna sagged against Neville when she entered that frozen, nightmarish room, void of any illumination other than the blinking sickly white and yellow lights on ticking, gurgling, beeping machinery. Nigel lay as immobile as a statue, covered in heavy white plaster casts, blood-stained bandages, and black zigzagging stitches holding his torn and swollen flesh together. It seemed as though there were needles and tubes attached to every part of his exposed skin. Her knees turned liquid as she shook her head whispering “no, no, no” under her breath. She could feel Neville frantically trying to keep her upright as she struggled to regain her balance and her composure. It took several minutes for her to stand on her own. She staggered towards the bed, her eyes taking in the devastated body of the man she so desperately loved. His right hand lay palm up surprisingly unscathed except for a large IV needle inserted deeply into a vein and taped to his wrist. Carefully laying her palm against his, she stroked his thumb and fingers gently.

  “Nigel, my love, I’m here.” She stared at his eyelids hoping to detect even a small movement at the sound of her voice. “Baby, its Deanna, can you hear me?”

  She heard the door shut as Neville left the room. A slight movement against her fingers startled her. She watched as Nigel’s fingers closed around hers, and looked up to see him staring at her, tears trailing over his cheekbones and dripping onto his pillow. “Oh, baby am I hurting you?”

  He made a small movement with his head and blinked, bruised and blackened eyes bright with unshed tears. He reached up to stroke her face, and she pressed her lips to his palm, murmuring how much she loved him against its chilling coldness. Crying softly, Deanna held his hand against her cheek with her left hand so he could see that she was wearing the carved rose ring he had given her on Christmas Eve while lightly rubbing his forearm with her rig
ht hand to warm his cold skin. Sighing, he closed his eyes and after a few moments the tears stopped. He looked at her once again with love and relief on his battered face.

  “I’m not going to leave the hospital. I promise I’ll be here day and night so that I can spend as much time with you as possible.” She kissed his hand and then his fingertips. “I love you, Nigel Guilford. Don’t you ever forget that, you hear me? We're going to get through this together, and before you know it we'll be going home to start our new life together, okay?”

  He blinked as if to say “yes” just as a nurse came in to tell Deanna it was time to leave. Nigel gripped her hand tightly, his eyes begging her not to leave.

  “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Deanna squeezed his trembling hand and brought it to her lips, kissing each knuckle before letting go.

  Nigel’s eyes followed her as she approached the door.

  “I love you,” she said, hoping he could hear her over the machinery as the nurse closed the door behind her.

  Neville was standing a few feet from the door, and Deanna ran to him, throwing herself into his arms as she sobbed, haunted by the look of fear in Nigel’s eyes. Why couldn’t she stay with him? How could they leave him alone in that horrible room?

  “Nigel…my sweet, precious, Nigel,” she cried against Neville’s chest. “Please God, don't let him be afraid,” she pleaded silently. “Please.”

  ****

  “Have a look at this,” Thom said, laying a large bag overflowing with mail at Deanna’s feet. She looked around at all of the members of Metal Urge. They were smiling at her a bit sadly, but seemed glad they were finally going to be allowed to visit Nigel after almost three weeks in the hospital. He was still in intensive care but some restrictions had been lifted as he continued to recover from his devastating injuries.

  “We thought you might like to read some of these cards and letters to him,” Alistair said, pulling an envelope out of the bag and handing it to her. “It might lift his spirits, yeah?”

  She opened the envelope and pulled out a get well card covered in signatures. The return address was in Austin, Texas.

  “There was a story about Nigel on the news and in the papers after the accident,” Thom said. “You wouldn’t believe how many calls Andy’s office has taken from fans in Britain and the States. Hell, there were calls from all over the world. Bloody fantastic, yeah?”

  She nodded and placed the card back in its envelope. “Is Andy stopping by?”

  “Yeah, absolutely, in fact he should be here any minute,” Brad smiled reassuringly at her.

  The band members settled into chairs around Deanna and talked quietly amongst themselves until their manager arrived. Just moments after Andy walked into the waiting room Neville came by to let them know they had fifteen minutes with Nigel. As he thanked each man, he shook their hands, glad they were here to visit his brother. Physically Nigel was making strides but emotionally he seemed depressed, and at times, extremely agitated over the fact that he couldn’t speak. Surely his band mates’ support would help lift his flagging spirits. He noticed that Deanna seemed preoccupied as she sifted through a large bag of mail.

  “Did you go home to take a shower and have a kip?”

  She looked at him and nodded, still distracted.

  “Is something bothering you, love?”

  Deanna sighed and let go of the mail bag. “I know what your family thinks of me. I’m not blind. I can see the disgust on your parent’s faces every time they look at me.”

  “I'm sorry, Deanna. This hasn't been easy on them, yeah? They don't really understand the situation.”

  She turned to him and shook her head. “What is there to understand, Neville? I love Nigel. I’ve been in love with him since last May when I saw him standing on the stage in that grimy pub in Soho. He was covered from head to toe in leather and studs…I'd never seen such an fascinating guy in all of my life,” she said, her voice breaking.

  Neville held up his hand, “I know that Nigel dated you. He told me all about his lovely American girlfriend. I also know that he broke it off with you.”

  “And you think that I used Thom to lure him back, right?”

  “Well, no, I mean…”

  Deanna laughed, a grim, unpleasant sound, and stared at Neville, her eyes filled with pain. “Thom is my best friend. You have no idea what he’s done for me or what he means to me. I married him because I loved him. I still love him.” She hugged herself and bowed her head. “But, Nigel is my soul mate,” she said quietly. A moment later she looked up at Neville almost defiantly. “I never stopped loving him, and I never will. I refuse to apologize for the fact that we found our way back to each other again. I didn't mean to hurt Thom or anyone else and Thom knows that now. He said he's forgiven me so why can’t your parents just let it go?”

  “I’m sorry, Deanna, I truly am, but you must understand that my parents don’t know about any of this, nor did I until you told me. All they know is that they watched you marry Nigel's best mate only to discover that you’re living with Nigel a few months later. You can see where that would be a bit of a shock, yeah?”

  Before she could respond a group of hospital personnel ran past, heading towards Nigel’s room, shouting to get the visitors out of there. One man was pushing a crash cart.

  The bewildered band members and Andy were being herded out of the room, and Neville had to grab Deanna as she screamed “What’s happening?” at one of the nurses rushing past carrying some sort of breathing apparatus. “Is he dying, Neville?” she whimpered, clinging to his shaking arms. “Answer me, damn you!” She screamed out Nigel’s name in terror as Thom rushed to her side.

  “Deanna, look at me. Look at me!” Thom commanded, trying to get her to focus on him. “He was having a bit of trouble breathing so he panicked and his heart rate spiked. The crash cart is just a precautionary measure.”

  “Why couldn’t he breathe?” she said, twisting around to watch Nigel’s door.

  “It was probably just a bit too much excitement with all of us yobs talking to him at once.”

  “No, you’re lying!” Deanna tried to pull away, but Thom held her fast.

  Nigel’s parents exited the lift as Neville was chasing down one of Nigel’s doctors. Mrs. Guilford screamed and pulled at her husband’s jacket when she saw the flurry of activity around Nigel’s room. Two of his specialist’s, the Cardiologist and the Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor spoke quietly to the Guilford’s’, assuring them that their son was going to be alright. Everyone started to calm down, and Deanna felt Thom tense up against her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Thom looked at her with something cold, and strange in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared as he smiled and hugged her tightly. “Nothing’s wrong, love. Everything's gonna be just fine.”

  ****

  Each day passed exactly as the one before it. Deanna could have performed her routine in her sleep: a bittersweet visit with Nigel cut short by some heavily starched harpy, a taxi ride home, shower, eat---if she could stomach it---sleep fitfully for a few hours, dress, then back to the hospital for another torturous round of “What will the doctors proclaim about his condition today?” He had improved, but his doctors would only commit to “he isn’t out of the woods yet.” Their reticence pissed her off, Nigel’s parents pissed her off...the whole world pissed her off.

  She watched happy families strolling by with vases full of bright flowers and fluffy teddy bears holding “Get well soon” signs in their fuzzy little paws. Why should they be allowed to go about their business when her beloved Nigel was hovering between life and death; suffering alone and frightened while being held prisoner in that torture chamber filled with cold, unfeeling machinery; attended to by even colder, indifferent hospital staff. She noticed Neville slip out of the room, his parents close behind, his mother crying as usual and clinging to her husband. A nurse led his parents away, and Neville lifted his hand, signaling Deanna’s turn in Nigel’s icy priso
n.

  She opened the first of the twenty or so envelopes she had carried in with her that day. She rested her elbows on the bed, feeling Nigel’s fingers in her hair then trailing along her cheek, down her neck, and back up again. He continued the prolonged caress as she read the get well cards one by one. Some included drawings or photographs so she showed those to him, pleased to see the grateful smile in his eyes. When she finished reading all of the cards, she put them aside and rested her cheek against his palm, gently caressing his arm with her hands. It was a poor substitute for holding his body close, but it was all they had, and they both relished the tender contact. The heart monitor beeped slowly as Nigel relaxed under her soothing touch. When the door opened Deanna could feel his muscles tense as the beeping increased signaling his fear and distress at her leaving.

  “You may spend an hour with him today,” the nurse said and closed the door quietly.

  Deanna kissed his hand and listened to the steady beeps and gurgles while Nigel’s finger traced her lips.

  “Deanna.” Thom’s voice intruded on their private moment irritating her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you.” He entered the room and greeted Nigel in a mock-cheery voice.

  “I’ll be back in a minute, babe.” She stood up and placed a gentle kiss on Nigel’s swollen lips then followed Thom into the small waiting area where the members of Beastrage sat staring at hospital staff rushing about with looks of extreme discomfort lining their young faces.

  “They were wondering if they could visit Nigel for a few minutes.” Thom gestured for the lads to join him and Deanna.

  Piper Howlen clasped Deanna’s hands and shook his head, “I'm so sorry about Maggi. It was bloody awful losing her and Nick.” He looked away for a moment, swallowing hard before he could continue. “We’re chuffed that Nigel...well, that Nigel pulled through, and we want to wish him well if that’s alright with you and his folks.”