by Sierra Riley
Russ didn’t sleep the night before Ryan’s surgery.
He told himself it was just to make sure his son didn’t accidentally—or intentionally—sneak any food in the middle of the night, since he was supposed to go without until after the surgery. But Ryan was a good kid, and if he was told not to do something, he usually listened.
No, Russ was awake for one reason and one reason only: sheer panic.
Jake had tried to console him earlier in the day, even sending him tons of statistics about how very unlikely it was for anything to go wrong. But Russ just needed to tough this one out. This was his kid, and since Russ had never been put under before, he had no frame of reference. Nothing to tell Ryan to put him at ease.
That was what scared him the most.
Worse still, Ryan’s mood was obviously affected. When he woke his son in the morning and helped him get ready, he seemed even more withdrawn than usual. It went beyond introversion. Whatever he was feeling, he’d tamped it down.
Probably because his dad was a fucking basket case.
Russ resolved to get his shit together, going over everything Jake had sent him while Ryan finished getting washed up. On the car ride to the hospital he talked about all of the things they were going to do after the surgery. He’d planned a trip to Cape Canaveral later in the year, and that perked Ryan up a bit.
Until it didn’t.
“If they can’t fix my eye, am I going to be able to fly a plane?”
It had been Ryan’s dream to join the Air Force, just like his mom. Russ’s words caught in his throat as he glanced at his son. He knew the answer. The Air Force required near-perfect vision, and Russ couldn’t imagine them allowing a pilot who could only see out of one eye.
But he wasn’t stupid enough to say that.
“There won’t be any ‘if,’ bud. They’ll fix it. Dr. Patel is really good at what he does, and Jake and I will make sure he does everything right.”
Even then, Dr. Patel had made it clear it wasn’t a 100 percent chance. There could be lingering scar tissue. The eye could drop to a pressure that was too low to function. Dr. Patel had described about ten different “ifs” to Russ in private, and they all had him on edge.
It seemed his non-answer had Ryan on edge, too, because there was a weighty silence. He reached over and patted his son’s knee.
“Hey. It’s going to be okay, Ryan. We’ll get this over with, and then everything will be back to normal.”
Ryan just nodded, looking down at the floorboard. Russ didn’t like his son like this. He wanted to keep talking; keep trying to convince him. But Russ knew that was only really going to help him. It wasn’t going to do anything for Ryan.
So instead he turned up the radio a bit. Ryan really liked country—probably because Carrie had, too—and he flipped it to a country station on satellite. They didn’t say anything else to each other the entire ride to the hospital, and Russ tried his best not to freak out about it.
When they pulled up to the guest parking lot, he spotted Jake’s blue Prius. “Looks like Jake beat us here.”
Ryan looked up at that, seeming at least mildly interested. They made the walk up to the front doors together, and Jake was there waiting. He had a reassuring smile on his face that at least put Russ a little more at ease. He didn’t know where Jake got that power, but he was thankful for it.
“I took care of the paperwork already. They’ll just need to get you fitted for a bracelet and then they’ll take you back. The bed’s all ready.”
“A bracelet?” Ryan asked, making a face.
“Don’t worry. It won’t clash with your shoes,” Jake said with a grin.
He had no idea why he and Jake seemed to seesaw so much, with one of them sunk straight to the bottom and the other one buoyed up by some immovable force, but he was eternally gratefully for it.
“Thanks for taking care of all that. I really appreciate it.”
Jake smiled at him; a shy little smile that made Russ’s insides do a strange little tumble.
“Figured you’d like one less headache to deal with.”
His friend started inside, the automatic doors opening for him, but Russ suddenly remembered something.
“Shit, do you have your ring?”
He fished his out of his pocket and slipped it on his finger. When his gaze returned to Jake, he was getting the strangest look. Like Jake didn’t believe what he was really seeing.
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
Jake’s tone was wary, and Russ hurried to explain.
“They won’t let you back with us if you’re just a friend. Best to stave off the worst of the questions, right?”
“Are you sure?”
He probably should have made a bigger deal out of it. But now that the paper was out, he assumed they were going to get called out either way. He was surprised his parents hadn’t given him an earful yet, honestly. And while he didn’t exactly relish the idea of being under that much public scrutiny, right now he had to focus on one thing at a time.
Today, that thing was Ryan’s surgery.
“Not saying we should take out an ad on closed-circuit TV, but yeah.”
Jake offered him a half-assed smile, then reached under his collar. A silver chain glinted in the sunlight, and when he pulled it all the way out, Russ saw the gold band hanging on it.
The fact that Jake kept his ring close made him feel… good. Better than he should feel, honestly. Just a moment of giddiness that seemed to justify the fact that he tended to keep his ring in his pocket whenever possible, too.
Jake pulled the ring off the chain and put it on his finger. Ryan was quiet throughout, and again Russ wondered what his son was thinking. It seemed he was always going to be wondering, and he knew it would only get worse in a few years when Ryan stopped giving him the benefit of the doubt.
But thankfully, with Jake here, he wasn’t as quick to worry about it. Irrational fears about his son hating him ceded into the background. He had to be strong today for Ryan’s sake. And Jake was the one who gave him that strength.
* * *
It took no time at all for them to get Ryan situated in a bed. The nurse who saw to his operation prep was nice, if not all that engaging. She got the hard part out of the way—the IV line. Ryan had tears in his eyes at that, and he’d turned his head so Russ couldn’t see. But it was done now, and now Russ had to keep his cool while they hooked his son up to a bunch of different monitors.
No one asked them why Jake was there. Dr. Patel drifted in at one point, shook both their hands, but otherwise seemed wholly uninterested in their presence.
About an hour into it, and a half hour from Ryan’s surgery time, the anesthesiologist dropped in. He was a soft-spoken man with kind eyes, and thankfully he focused most of his attention on his patient.
“Hey, you must be Ryan. My name’s Dr. Weylan, and I’m your anesthesiologist. I’ll be the one in charge of making sure you sleep through the whole surgery.”
He moved to the side of Ryan’s bed, opposite where Russ and Jake waited. He gave them a smile, seeming completely unconcerned about the fact that it was two guys with him.
“Are you Ryan’s parents?”
Whether he’d noticed the gold bands or just seemed to sense it, Russ was glad. Even if he felt Jake stiffen beside him, hearing his friend suck in a breath. Russ just greeted the man with a smile.
“Yeah. I’m Russ, this is Jake.”
“Scott,” he said, reaching his hand over the bed to shake both of theirs in turn.
He returned his focus to Ryan then, whose attention had drifted to the TV. At least Russ knew he could count on his son not to try and explain the complicated situation that existed between him and Jake. It was much easier for everyone involved if the hospital staff thought they were just happily married.
Considering how much Russ had already needed to lean on his friend today, it might not be far from the truth.
“So I just came by to let you know what I’ll be doing du
ring the surgery, and answer any questions you might have.”
“How are you going to keep me asleep?” Ryan asked.
“I have a special medicine I’ll give you through your IV. No new needles or anything, I’ll just put it in this tube right here,” he said, pointing to the tube attached to the IV needle, “and within a couple minutes you’ll get really sleepy. I’ll stay in the room with you and make sure you’re asleep the whole time, and then give you another medicine to wake you up.”
Ryan tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. “Will it hurt?”
He wasn’t surprised Ryan was asking so many questions about this part. It was the scariest element to the whole process in his mind, too. What if he wasn’t given enough medicine? What if he was given too much? They were questions Russ didn’t want to think about, and was afraid to even ask.
“It won’t hurt at all when I give you the medicine, nope. And you won’t feel what the surgeon is doing. Basically, I’ll give you the medicine, have you count backwards from ten, and then you’ll wake up after it’s all over.”
Ryan nodded, and the doctor looked up to Russ and Jake.
“Do you two have any questions?”
Not any Russ was willing to hear the answers to. He shook his head, but of course Jake actually had something of value to ask.
“What are you giving him to put him under? Propofol?”
The anesthesiologist nodded. “It seems to be the easiest for kids to handle. Less risk of nausea.”
“How many ccs?”
Russ tried to follow, but when Jake and the other doctor started talking in unitary terms, he was lost. Instead he searched out Ryan’s hand—the one that wasn’t hooked up to the IV—and gave it a little squeeze.
“You ready?” He mouthed.
Ryan just shrugged, but it wasn’t indifference Russ saw. It was fear.
When the anesthesiologist left, Ryan fidgeted a little in his bed. He rubbed at his arm, a sure tell that he wanted to say something. He’d been doing that since he was old enough to talk.
“What’s up, bud?”
His son looked up at him, and for a moment he saw Carrie’s bright green eyes. The faintest hint of moisture shone in Ryan’s, though, and it ripped through his heart like nothing else could. God, he wished he could just unhook him from all these machines and bust him out of this place.
“What if I don’t wake up?”
The question chilled him to the bone. It was one he’d thought about often; one that had kept him awake at night, and plagued his dreams when he did sleep. He didn’t know what to say, because he hadn’t been able to tell himself anything that would actually help.
He knew the rational answers. He’d told himself every one of them a million times. The odds of that happening were so small. It was more likely that the hospital would be swept away by a tsunami before that happened. But those answers hadn’t eased his fears at all, and he knew they wouldn’t ease Ryan’s.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jake reach into his pocket. He pulled out something small. “I was keeping this for myself, but I think you need it more than I do.”
Jake opened his hand, revealing a little wooden bear. God, he’d almost forgotten about that. He’d gone to the university bookstore and had bought it for Jake during their sophomore year, when he’d been afraid to tell his grandmother he was gay. It was just a silly little joke. A way to make him smile.
Russ had no idea he’d kept it all this time.
“What is it?” Ryan asked.
It looked well-worn, like it had been scraping around in his pocket for years.
Russ was beginning to think it had.
“Your dad gave this little guy to me when I had to do something scary. Said he would make sure nothing bad happened to me.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, the way kids did when they suspected they were being talked down to. “Yeah, right.”
“That’s exactly what I told him. It’s just wood, right? Not like it has magical powers. But I took it with me anyway, and… your dad was right. Nothing bad happened to me.”
Russ couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t sure he’d go that far. Jake was still practically shaking when he came back. But his grandmother had taken the news all right.
Ryan, of course, looked skeptical.
“I held it in my hand the night you were born, too. And nothing bad happened then. I’ve had it with me for every scary thing I’ve ever had to face, and they’ve all turned out okay. So I want you to keep it with you. We’ll sneak it into the gurney with you.”
Russ knew they wouldn’t be able to do that. One of them would have to pull some sleight of hand and retrieve it before he went into the OR. But the intention was good, and it seemed enough to calm Ryan down. He watched his son’s chest rise and fall in a few deep breaths before he took the figurine from Jake.
“You think it’ll really work?”
“I do,” Jake said with a smile.
“So do I,” Russ added.
And then Ryan finally smiled, and the dark clouds hanging over Russ’s head—clouds that had been there for weeks—let up for a brief moment. Just long enough to let a bright ray of sun shine through. But he would cling to that and use it to get through the next few hours.
Even with Jake by his side, Russ knew he would need it.
18
Russ
Ryan was wheeled back fifteen minutes later.
He and Jake walked alongside his gurney, all the way through the winding halls of the surgery center until they reached the operating room. There the orderly in charge of transporting him stopped the bed, and Russ was able to say his “see you in a little while, bud,” while Jake managed to snatch the wooden bear from the tangle of blankets.
And then the door was opened, and Ryan was taken into the one place Russ couldn’t follow. His heart pounded. His throat threatened to close. And it took Jake’s arm around his shoulders, guiding him toward the waiting room, to get him to even move.
Once there, the clock was his constant enemy. He looked at it every five minutes. When it ticked past four hours and the sun set behind the large glass windows, Russ started to panic.
“What’s taking so long? He said three-to-four hours, didn’t he? You heard him say three-to-four hours.”
“Sometimes procedures take a little longer than planned. It doesn’t mean anything’s gone wrong.”
Jake’s voice was soothing, and he wanted to cling to that. But instead he curled in on himself, burying his hope in and endless sea of worry.
“What if something has gone wrong? God, Jake. I should’ve never agreed to this. I should’ve had them try something else first, or just. I don’t know. Anything but this.”
He was on the verge of hysterics, and falling fast.
“That’s my son in there. My son. If something happens to him. I can’t—”
It felt like everyone in the waiting room was looking at him suddenly. He couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t manage to remember how to breathe properly. Oh, fuck. This happened to him once before. A panic attack. An honest to fucking God panic attack, in the middle of a waiting room.
“Breathe, Russ. Lean your head down and breathe.”
Jake’s arm came around his shoulders again, warm and comforting. His friend leaned close so only Russ could hear him. Dropping his head down below his shoulders, Russ tried to focus on his own breathing. He followed Jake’s example, in and out, in and out.
“That’s it. Just take deep breaths and listen to me. Don’t look at the clock or anyone else,” he said as Russ’s gaze started to predictably drift.
Instead, he met Jake’s gaze. Calming pools of blue enveloped him, wrapping him in what felt like a warm embrace. His world was falling apart. But Jake was here. Jake had always been here. He reached out, clutching his friend’s arm like it was the lifeline he needed to survive.
Russ was starting to think that wasn’t far off the mark.
“Good. That’s good. Everything’s going
to be okay, Russ. I won’t let anything happen to you or Ryan, I promise.”
He believed that. Even if it was completely irrational. Even if some distant part of his brain chided him, since there was no way Jake could protect him from absolutely everything. But right now, his protests lacked weight or substance. Right now, he felt like Jake could protect him.
He nodded softly, finally able to speak. “I think I’m okay.”
Jake gave his shoulder a squeeze, then slowly rose. Russ hadn’t even realized that his friend had gotten off his chair to kneel in front of him. God, he was such a wreck. He glanced around, at a bunch of strangers who seemed suddenly interested in the TV.
These people probably thought he was nuts.
A few minutes passed, with Jake constantly watching him, making sure he was okay. The doors back to the hospital proper opened, and finally Ryan’s surgeon walked out, still in his scrubs. Russ and Jake both stood immediately, and Russ tried not to make a huge deal out of Dr. Patel’s decidedly neutral expression.
“The surgery went very well. Ryan is in the recovery room now, waking up from the anesthesia. Someone should be by to get you shortly so you can see him.”
Russ almost felt as if his legs were going to collapse beneath him. It was such a relief to hear, but all of that anxiety and adrenaline that had apparently been propping him up all day suddenly fled. He didn’t even question it when Jake put out a hand to help steady him.
“And the eye?” Jake asked.
“Doing well, also. We injected a gas that—”
Again Russ tuned out the doctor. He hated doing that—he wanted to know the answer to the questions Jake asked—but right now, he was fixated on only one thing. Ryan had made it through the surgery. He was going to wake up and they were going to take him home and this whole experience could be put behind them.
Once the doctor left, Russ slumped back into his chair, feeling like every bone in his body had suddenly crumpled into a pile of useless goo. He was so, so tired. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight, either. He wouldn’t leave Ryan alone. He needed to stay awake to watch over him, just in case.