Presently Perfect (Perfect #3)

by Alison G. Bailey

More than likely, Tweet was already back in the holding area getting prepped. We both agreed to shelve any discussion about what happened the other day at the condo. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a priority at the moment. Tweet getting better was our focus. Last night I tried to talk her into letting me ride with them to the hospital this morning, but she said no. Just because she had to be here at the ungodly hour of 5 am, there was no reason for both of us to suffer. Tweet wasn’t a morning person and she wasn’t allowed to have her Diet Pepsi before surgery, so I knew she was helping me dodge a bullet by having me hang back and come in later.

  I skidded around the corner into the waiting area at 6:48 am. The place was practically deserted, no sign of the Kellys anywhere.

  I landed in front of the admit desk where a blank-faced woman, who looked to be about twenty-five, sat, tapping furiously on her keyboard.

  “Good morning,” I said, between gasps of air.

  Never looking up, her tone was flat when she asked, “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Amanda Kelly.”

  Ms. Friendly clicked something on her monitor. “She’s already gone back for prep.”

  “Have they taken her to the operating room yet?”

  “Sir, I’m not allowed to give out that information in accordance with HIPPA regulations.”

  “Sorry. It’s just… I really need to see her before she goes in for surgery.”

  “Even if she were still in the holding area, they only let family go back to see the patient.”

  “I’m her brother.”

  Her gaze stayed focused on the monitor as she continued clicking.

  “Family members are instructed to leave the holding area twenty minutes prior to scheduled surgery in order for the staff to do final prep of the patient. Final prep is already in progress for 7 am surgeries.”

  Damn, she was hardcore. I angled my head trying to get a glimpse of her name tag.

  “Maryann…”

  The sound of her name caused her head to pop up and she finally looked at me.

  My eyebrows shot up into my forehead as I jerked back in surprise. “Wow!”

  Her flat expression turned to concern. “What?”

  “You have the biggest and brightest blue eyes I have ever seen.”

  Concern melted away, replaced by soft eyes and a huge toothy grin. “They’re actually cerulean, overlapping into the azure hue on the color spectrum. People mistake them for blue all the time, though.”

  “I don’t know anything about the color spectrum, but they are off the charts on the gorgeous meter.” The side of my mouth cocked up into a smirk while I gave her a wink.

  She glanced at the computer and then back at me. “So she’s your sister?”

  “Yep.” I nodded.

  Maryann reached for a Post-it note, scribbled on it, and handed it to me with a smile.

  I looked down at the paper, noticing two things written on it.

  “The first number is your sister’s room.”

  “Thanks, Maryann.” I took a step back away from the desk.

  “And the second number is mine.” She giggled, shrugging her shoulders. “I work ‘til five, Monday through Friday.”

  I tapped my temple with the corner of the note, as I backed farther away. “Good to know. I’ll keep that info in mind.”

  I tossed one more wink in her direction, turned, and went searching for Tweet.

  My hand was on the doorknob to room three when a stern voice stopped me. I looked up to see a pocket-sized, gray-haired nurse walking toward me with a determined expression.

  “Young man, you can’t go in there now. She’s about to go back to surgery.”

  “I’m her brother.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She didn’t seem like a flirter, so I gave her the most pathetic sorrowful look I could muster.

  “She’s my only sister. I’ll only stay a second.”

  “We’re on a strict schedule. You should have been here earlier.”

  “I got caught in traffic.”

  The door opened slightly and a guy wearing scrubs appeared. I assumed he was the anesthesiologist since they were usually the last doctors to see the patient before heading into the OR.

  “He can come in for a few minutes,” he said to Nurse Tweet-blocker.

  Blowing out a sigh of relief, I smiled at the doctor in appreciation. Nudging past the nurse, my smile widened at her, before entering the room.

  Tweet’s face lit up at the sight of me. She looked so small on the stretcher, covered in a pile of white sheets and a blanket.

  “I just gave her some medicine, so she’s pretty loopy,” the doctor explained.

  “Thanks.”

  He left the room, closing the door behind him, as I moved toward the stretcher and sat next to Tweet.

  The medicine was in full effect. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, but still gorgeous. I lifted my hand to the side of her face and let my fingertips trail down her cheek and over her jaw.

  “Hey, Tweet. How are you feeling?”

  “Gooood.” Her head wobbled slightly from side-to-side, causing me to chuckle.

  Wasted Tweet was adorable.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. There was an accident and I was stuck in traffic.”

  “That’s alright, my brother. It’s all good. You’re here now. Grab my clothes and let’s go.” She grasped the edge of the sheets and sat up, bringing us face-to-face.

  I placed my hand on top of hers. “Tweet, you can’t leave right now.”

  Her eyes narrowed and a crooked grin slowly took over her lips. “You wanna hook up?” She leaned toward me like she was about to tell me a secret. “This gown has easy access and I got nothing on underneath it.”

  My gaze inadvertently dropped down, getting an eyeful of Tweet’s chest through the flimsy hospital gown. I swallowed hard and forced my eyes up to hers.

  We stared, not saying a word, exchanging I love yous in our own way.

  The door abruptly opened, startling both of us. Nurse Tweet-blocker appeared. Her expression a little less harsh than when we first met. I wanted to lean forward and give Tweet a quick kiss, but opted for squeezing her hand instead before I stood up. The nurse walked around to the back of the stretcher, unlocked it, and pushed it toward the door.

  It was time.

  “Nurse Sarah, has anyone ever told you, you were a buzz kill?” Tweet slurred.

  The nurse and I both laughed.

  “I’ve been called worse,” she said.

  Tweet’s head lolled from side-to-side, as she raised her arm, waving it around in an attempt to point at me. “This is my Noah. Isn’t he hot?”

  “He’s very handsome,” the nurse responded, smiling at me.

  “He’s an awesome kisser too. His tongue tastes like thin mints. He kissed my thigh under the dinner table with our parents sitting there. Hey Noah! You remember when you touched my boob-bahs… boobesses… booob-aaayz… that’s a really funny word,” she slurred.

  “Tweet, I don’t think the nurse cares about any of that.” I interrupted, shoving my hands in my pockets.

  “It wasn’t his fault Nurse Buzz-kill. He accidentality touched my boob-aaayz.”

  The nurse took one step toward me. “I thought you were her brother?” She glanced between Tweet and I, then a flash of recognition appeared in her eyes.

  “We’re a very close family,” I said.

  I got a knowing look from the nurse before she stepped back behind Tweet’s stretcher and pushed her out the door.

  I stood in the hallway, staring as the stretcher moved farther away from me. The sound of the rubber wheels squeaking along the sterile floor bounced off the walls. The urge to run after her and make all this go away was overwhelming. My purpose in life was to love and protect my girl, but I was completely useless to her when she needed me the most.

  I thought the MRI scan Tweet had was the longest hour of my life. That didn’t compare to the two hours s
he was in surgery and recovery. I circled the hospital at least ten times trying to shake my nerves.

  The first couple of days they had Tweet so doped up on morphine that she didn’t know what was going on. Her mom stayed with her during the day while her dad and Emily visited at night after they got off work. I took the overnight shift. There was no way in hell I was letting her spend one night alone in the hospital. Fortunately, I knew a couple of the nurses on the unit. When visiting hours were over, they brought me a blanket, and pillow and conveniently looked the other way. I told my mom I was staying at Carter’s and I never mentioned anything to the Kellys. I wasn’t in the mood for anyone trying to talk me out of being there for Tweet. Mrs. Kelly arrived each day by 8:30 a.m., so as long as I was up and out by then, my secret was safe.

  My body jerked awake at the sound of Tweet crying. I bolted out of the recliner and ran to the side of her bed. Tears streamed out of her closed eyes, her head shaking from side-to-side, as her hands fisted the sheets against her chest. She was clenching to the point that her knuckles were white. I glanced at the clock on the wall: 3:27 am. She was having a nightmare.

  “Noah!” she yelled.

  I placed my hands on her shoulders and shook slightly. “Tweet, wake up.”

  “Noah! Catch me. Please don’t let me fall,” she said through sobs.

  I put more pressure on her shoulders and spoke louder. “Tweet, wake up. I’m here.”

  Her eyes shot open. She blinked rapidly, her gaze darting around, before landing back on me.

  “Noah.” Her voice was weak.

  “I’m here. You were having a nightmare.”

  She nodded, taking in a shaky deep breath.

  Shifting, she made room for me on the bed. I crawled in, wrapped my arms around her body, and held her securely against my chest. Her arm draped across my stomach as her head rested over my heart. My right hand traveled along her forearm while my left stroked her hair.

  “You want to talk about it?” My lips grazed her forehead.

  “I was in this tunnel. You were standing at one end. I walked toward you. When I got close, I suddenly got sucked backwards into blackness. I reached out for you, but I kept falling until I couldn’t see you anymore.”

  We both squeezed each other tighter.

  “I got you, Tweet.”

  Her body tensed. “Have you looked at it?”

  I didn’t answer for a few seconds. My gaze drifted down to the end of the bed. You couldn’t tell she was missing anything with the blanket covering her.

  “My leg, have you looked at it?” she repeated.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Me neither. It feels like it’s still there.”

  “That’s the nerve endings messing with your brain.”

  We lay there, listening to the quietness for several seconds.

  “A therapist came in this morning and told me they were going to get me out of bed tomorrow…” She looked over at the clock. “Well, later today.”

  “It will be alright.” I placed a light kiss on her forehead.

  “I’m scared.”

  Tweet’s body trembled as her tears soaked through my T-shirt. I pushed her even harder against my body. I couldn’t get close enough.

  “There’d be something wrong with you if you weren’t scared, but I’m going to be by your side. We’ll get through it together.”

  “Noah, you’ve been here every night, not sleeping in that crappy recliner. I can’t ask you to stay during the day.”

  “You’re not asking me. I’m telling you.”

  Looking up, she placed a kiss on my cheek before nuzzling deeper into my chest. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

  “I don’t know either, but it must have been something awesome.”

  After a few minutes Tweet’s breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep in my arms.

  Something heavy pressed down on my shoulder and it shook vigorously. My eyes opened, still blurry and groggy. I lay on my side, arms and legs wrapped around Tweet’s body. The entire room was lit up in sunlight except for the large shadowed figure of Tweet’s dad hovering over me.

  Warm breath washed over the side of my face and down my neck. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get off my daughter.”

  My heart exploded in my chest. I didn’t want to wake Tweet or piss off Mr. Kelly more. I quickly but gently unfolded myself and slid off the bed.

  “You’ve been here the entire night,” Mr. Kelly said. There was either a sense of relief in his tone or my wishful thinking, but he didn’t sound angry.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Holy shit! He caught me in bed with his daughter.

  “You’ve been here every night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Please don’t be pissed.

  He offered me the Starbucks he had in his hand. I glanced from the cup and to him before reaching for it. Bringing it up to my mouth, I drank, cringing at the strong taste. Mr. Kelly lightly brushed the hair off of Tweet’s forehead.

  “Did she have a good night?”

  “Not really.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow cocked in question. “Bad dream.”

  He turned his attention back to his daughter.

  “I thought you and Emily usually came by after work.” I took another shot of coffee.

  He continued to stare down at Tweet. “We do. I have a dinner meeting tonight, so I figured I’d stop by before work just to check on her.”

  The back of Mr. Kelly’s hand ran down the side of Tweet’s face, his slumped shoulders rising and falling with a deep sigh. He wanted more than anything to take her pain away, but like me, felt helpless. I sat in the recliner in the corner of the room, giving Mr. Kelly a little privacy with Tweet.

  Not looking at me, he said, “Noah.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you for being here for Amanda.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  Grabbing one of the straight-back chairs in the room, he placed it next to me and sat.

  “Your dad was always so proud of you. I miss him. He was a great man and a hell of a good listener. I know it’s been hard on you and your mom. Nothing will ever replace him in your lives. But I want you to know I’m here, and have two ears, no waiting, if you ever need them.”

  A slight chuckle escaped me. “I know. Thank you.”

  We both aimed our focus on Tweet.

  “Her mom was a pain in the ass when we first met,” Mr. Kelly blurted out.

  My head shot in his direction.

  “But from the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was my pain in the ass and always would be.” He gave me a big smile.

  “I haven’t done a very good job of hiding how I feel.”

  “Neither of you have.”

  “I’d never do anything disrespectful to Tweet, sir.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, son.” His large hand slammed down on my shoulder. “Cause I’d have to break your body if you did.” He gave me a wink. “Hang in there. Things will work out like they’re meant to.”

  “I hope so. I can’t imagine her not being in my life,” I said.

  “Then don’t.”

  Six days had passed since the surgery. Tweet was doing as well as could be expected. I saw Brooke a few times briefly during the week. Our argument at the condo had blown over and she was being very understanding about my time with Tweet. Although, she reminded me each time we saw each other that Christmas day was still hers. I felt like I owed her at least that much.

  Mr. and Mrs. Kelly went all out, setting up the spare room at Emily’s place. It was an exact replica of Tweet’s room from home. They felt she would be more comfortable surrounded by her things.

  Tweet put on a happy face for the sake of her parents and at times even for Emily. She tried to fake me out with the painted-on smile the first day home, but I saw right through it and called her out. I caught her glancing down more and more at where her leg once was. The look in her eyes was familia
r. It was the same look I had when Dad died. I had read every bit of information Dr. Lang had given us and did more research on the internet. Tweet was going through the natural grieving process on top of dealing with the chemo treatments that would start in a few weeks.

  I tried to supply as much happy in Tweet’s day as possible. She was too self-conscious being in the wheelchair to go out, so I brought out in. She wanted a manicure, I hired a lady to give her one. She wanted her hair done, I got her hairdresser to come do it. She wanted ice cream sandwiches at eleven o’clock at night, I got her boxes of them at eleven o’clock at night. The happy was temporary, but it was better than none at all.

  Emily, Tweet, and I had ordered pizza for dinner and we were watching Sixteen Candles, again. Emily was sitting in the big overstuffed chair, while I was sprawled out on the sofa. Tweet was in her wheelchair. For the past half hour she had been unusually quiet. When I looked over at her, she was rubbing the top of her left thigh.

  “I’m going to go to bed.” Tweet unlocked the wheelchair and started to roll toward her room.

  “You alright?” Emily asked.

  “Yeah, I think I’m just tired.”

  I sat up. “You need any help, Tweet?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Goodnight.”

  Fifteen minutes passed when the worse sound I ever heard sliced through the room. Tweet let out a blood- curdling scream. I bolted off the sofa and burst through Tweet’s bedroom door. She lay across her bed, holding her stump, screaming and sobbing uncontrollably. I scanned the room, thinking I might see the reason for her screams. Then it dawned on me. She was having phantom pain. I read that some amputees experience anywhere from a mild discomfort to severe pain, like a vice tightening and twisting around the missing limb. Some medications help, but there wasn’t much you could do for it, other than applying pressure around the stump and riding it out.

  I sat on the side of the bed, scooped her up, and cradled her in my arms. Tweet clenched my shirt and screamed into my chest as the pain grew more intense. Her body convulsed violently with each surge. Emily stood at the end of the bed looking as helpless as I felt, with tears running down her cheeks.

  I rubbed Tweet’s back trying to calm her down, as I whispered, “I got you, baby. Squeeze me as hard as you need.”