The Rescue

by Izzy Daniels

  “Brooke, I’m so sorry. I know you must hate me. For not telling you and you having to find out that way. I never meant to lie to you,” I begin. All of my thoughts are jumbled but I want to explain.

  “Emmaline, don’t,” she stops me. “We can talk about that later, when you’re out of here. But I could never, ever hate you. ”

  “Okay,” I respond quietly. I change the topic. “What day is it? Did I miss class? Work?”

  “No, it’s late morning on Sunday. You’re going to miss work, but I already talked to Joe. He just wants you to focus on healing,” she answers. “There’s a lot of people here waiting to see for themselves that you’re okay. Do you want to see them?” Who would be here besides Jack and her? Does everyone know my horrible secret?

  “Um, yeah sure,” I tell her unsurely. She pats my hand and then uses her phone to send a text. She shifts and puts the water back on the table. She bites on her thumbnail and glances down at her lap.

  “Listen, there’s something I have to tell you. Now doesn’t seem like the best time but I have to come clean about it,” Brooke says. She sits back down in the chair by my bed and holds my good hand with both of hers. She’s wearing a guilty expression and her mouth works as she tries to spit it out. My mind is racing, but whatever it is can’t be that important considering recent events. “I looked into your past, your mom — ” She doesn’t get to finish her thought because the hospital door pushes open, cutting her off.

  Gail rushes in first and just as she’s about to tackle me, her eyes takes in my cast and she slows to a stop just beside me. Gail gently leans in and kisses me on the forehead..

  “My baby girl. Thank god,” she breathes and then she bursts into sobs. She takes my hand from Brooke to hold to her chest, right over her heart. I’m shocked that Gail is here, that she’s crying. I glance helplessly around and spot Dave right behind her. He slides his hand onto her shoulder. His tired eyes find me and he gives me his dad smile.

  “Gave us quite a fright, little lady. We’re so glad to see you awake,” he says.

  “Yeah, sis, let’s not do this again,” says Nicky as he steps to the other side of the bed. “You’ve turned mom into a crybaby. She keeps hugging me in front of everyone. There are a few cute nurses with phone numbers I need and the momtourage isn’t working for me.” He winks at me just before Tommy smacks the back of his head.

  “Don’t listen to him, college has turned him into an idiot. But this hospital food is a nightmare,” Tommy says. Nicky elbows him. I can’t believe they’re here . I should feel shame that they all know my secret, but I can’t find it in me right now.

  “Wow, you guys started the party without me?” Jack asks as he stands in the doorway. He sets a styrofoam cup down on the table and pushes his way to the other side of my bed. He leans close to me and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Princess, you scared the shit out of me.” As he straightens, I get a full view of the room. Brooke, Jack, Gail, Dave, Nicky, and Tommy all stand there with various expressions of love and concern. I’m blown away. I never saw how much I meant to them.

  “Thanks for being here.. I,” I try to say but my voice halts as I get too choked up to finish and instantly the room blurs as tears fill my eyes. I try to swallow them away, to tell them that I finally get it. I want to tell them how much I love all of them. There’s a knock at the door and everyone turns away from me, giving me a brief second to regain control.

  A throat clears before a male voice tentatively asks, “Sorry to interrupt, is this Emmaline Rhodes’ room? The nurses directed me here.” Brooke jumps up and looks distraught.

  “Yes! Paul, I’m Brooke,” she says quickly as shakes his hand. Paul? I wipe my eyes to see him better but Dave is blocking him. Brooke brings him over to the bed and I take in his deep set blue eyes and salt and pepper hair. His intake of breath shakes some memories loose. I squint and tilt my head, as if that will change what I see.

  “Paulie?” I ask skeptically. His hand flies up to cover his mouth. He nods but doesn’t seem able to talk. “What? How are you here?”

  “Oh. Well, I kinda invited him,” Brooke answers meekly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you. It’s a long story.” How could she have invited him?

  “Sorry, who are you?” Dave asks solicitously.

  “My name is Paul Sherman,” he replies cordially as he reaches out a hand to shake. “I knew Emma a long time ago. May I ask who you are?”

  “We’re her family. I’m David, this is my wife, Gail, and our sons, Jack, Nicholas, and Thomas.” Family. How could I have been so blind? How could I have missed how much love I’ve been given? They’re my family . I don’t know why but this thought cracks the dam inside of me and a flood of repressed emotions breaks free. Brooke rushes to hold me as I sob while everyone watches. But this time, I don’t even care.

  ...

  After reassuring everyone that I’m fine and the nurses describing every detail of my recovery plan, I’m alone in the room with Jack and Brooke. Paul excused himself to find a place to stay in town and said we would speak when I felt up to it. He brings up a storm of memories, thoughts, questions, but I need to sift through them before I can talk to him. There’s just so much to take in and the pain medication isn’t helping with that either. Jack and Brooke are playing their fourth round of gin rummy over the foot of my bed.

  They are staring intently at each other. You’d think it was high stakes poker. The loser just has to go down to the cafeteria and grab sandwiches. I observe them fondly. I love them. I expect the thought to startle me because it’s new, but it doesn’t. I do love them. I love Brooke. I’m madly in love with Brooke .

  I was starting to realize it, but lying in a hospital bed grateful to still have your life tends to put some things into perspective. I’ve been living a half-life. I’ve felt like I don’t deserve to be loved but more than that, I’ve been so afraid of loving just to lose them. I thought, somehow, if I admitted it to myself, the universe would just snatch it all away. My experience with loss in the past was barely survivable for me, but, it’s hardly survivable to never let yourself love or be loved. That’s not a life I want to live anymore, ever again. Jack suddenly jumps out of his chair and pumps his fist repeatedly.

  “YES! Rummy! Boo-ya. I’ll take a turkey club. Grab some chips, too. And a soda. Victory!” He yells. Brooke groans and drops her head onto the bed.

  “Dammit. Fiiiine,” she grumbles. She tosses her cards into the pile as she stands. She leans over and kisses my cheek. “Be back soon.” As Brooke walks out, I notice she’s wearing oversized flip flops instead of the boots I’ve come to believe are attached to her. The sight of it is so comical that I look to Jack.

  “What’s up with her shoes?” I ask lightheartedly. I thought Jack would laugh, but his face is serious.

  “She ran out of her house without shoes. That was the only pair Dad had in the car and Brooke hasn’t left your side for more than a minute,” he answers humorlessly. “She’s some girl, Emma.” His hands push through his hair and he lets out an angry sigh. “What the hell, Emma? Why didn’t you tell me? I want to kill him. Emma, the x-rays showed… years. Why?” Abruptly, he starts crying. Crying is not a thing I’ve ever seen him do. I’m startled into silence and shame. A tortured sound bursts from him and his shoulders are shaking violently. “Why, Emma?” He pleads with me again.

  “Jack...” How do I explain?

  “I’d give my life for you. You’re not just my best friend, you’re my sister. To know you’ve spent all this time being hurt… being hurt over and over,” he says in dismay. “Goddammit. I would have helped, I would have taken you from there and protected you. I would have hid his body where it could never have been found.”

  “Jack —, ” I start to say but he interrupts.

  “Do you know what it was like?” he asks. “When Brooke called, I was just getting out of the shower so I almost ignored her. But it seemed weird and something told me it was important. Do you know wh
at it was like to hear that you were in the hospital, that you could have lost your life? Brooke was so distraught I could barely understand her. All of us love you so much and you could have died on me. And I’m so mad and so scared, so hurt and confused. Ems, why?” Jack has never been one to detail his emotions. He’s always opted for humor instead of getting real. He has every right to demand answers from me.

  “Jack. Please, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice urgent. “I thought.. well the things I thought are hard to understand. I felt like I deserved punishment, he made sure I felt that way. I never thought about how you would feel. When it started, it felt right, like I was paying my penance, one I needed to pay. He told me over and over that I deserved to be hit. I don’t know if I could ever make you understand it, Jack. I love you, Jack. You have been the best friend anyone could ask for and you are my brother. I didn’t want you to know, that’s why you didn’t know. It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not your fault. I made my choices.”

  “You were just a little girl, Em. You didn’t deserve that.” he tells me. “But the nurses have told me that they have counselors and they recommended one for you. Please tell me you’ll let them come talk to you?” A counselor? Talking to a stranger about all of this sounds loathsome when I’ve worked so hard to keep it private. But I want to live a better life. I want to love myself. If talking to a professional is the way to make that happen, I know it’s the right thing to do.

  “Yes, okay, I will. I promise,” I tell him. Jack nods his approval. He seems to be content that he’s gotten everything off his chest so he sits back down and props his long legs up on the bed. He takes in a deep breathe and slowly lets it out.

  “She’s in love with you,” he says out of the blue. He’s looking at me again. I can’t quite meet his eyes. I trace the seam of my standard hospital blanket and pick at a loose thread. I don’t have to look to know he’s giving me the mom face.

  “I know,” I say at last.

  “Do you reciprocate?” He probes curiously. I sigh. I can’t answer him. Not because I don’t know, I know with certainty. But I don’t want to say the words to him when I think Brooke should be the first to know. I want her to hear the words. But it’s Jack, he understands me. He is my bff after all. “You should tell her then. Don’t let her go. She’s crazy about you.” I meet his intense green eyes and nod. An idea strikes me.

  “How are you at romance?” I ask. His mouth pulls up into an impish grin.

  When Brooke gets back to the room fifteen minutes later, balancing a pile of packaged food, we quickly change the topic. She tosses an orange juice and sandwich at Jack as she stacks everything else on the rolling table and slides it over to her side of my bed. She smiles warmly at me before leaning down and pressing her lips to my cheek. She’s putting on a good show but I can see that she’s exhausted. She sits back in her chair and starts eating her sandwich. I take in the circles under her eyes as she listens to Jack yammer on about the budget for a new superhero movie. She sees me looking at her so she rolls her eyes and then nods toward Jack. I smile at her.

  “Brooke, you’ve been here all night and day. You should go home and get some rest. Maybe even take a shower and find shoes that fit,” I say.

  “No, I’m fine,” she answers flat-out. She shakes her head firmly as emphasis.

  “When was the last time you slept?” I ask her.

  “Umm...” Brooke trails off and it looks like she honestly can’t remember.

  “See? Please. For me?” I beg. “Jack’s here and Paul is coming back in a little while. You can just grab a little nap and then come right back okay?” She seems to think it over and I can see her defeat when her shoulders slump.

  “Okay. I do smell like a swamp,” she says. “I’ll call for a taxi and then be back in a little while.”

  “No rush. Our girl is just fine” Jack assures her. “Besides my parents are coming back later, too.” Brooke nods slowly and stands up to toss her wrapper away. She’s at my side again and when she leans down I wrap my arms around her.

  “Thank you,” I whisper to her. It’s insufficient for everything she’s done for me but I know she understands exactly what I mean. She pulls back from the hug and her soft lips are on mine. She kisses me for awhile like she misses me already. When she leans back a tiny bit, I push her hair out of her eyes and peer up at her pretty face. It’s my favorite face in the whole world.

  “See you soon,” she whispers. She waves bye to Jack and heads out the door. When I hear the slapping of her flip flops on the linoleum fade, I turn back to Jack. He’s making idiotic kissing faces in the air. Then he starts making out with his empty soda bottle.

  “Oh, Brooke! You’re so naughty! Muah muah muah,” he says in a high-pitched voice and returns to kissing his bottle.

  “I do not sound like that!” I object. My cheeks heat up but I laugh anyway. Ow . Okay, no laughing . Honestly, I’m happy he’s joking around with me. Seeing him get that emotional with me was another blow to my crumbling world. I thought my existence was a mistake. Who could love a mistake like me? Who would want to? But all this time, I had so much love already. I have a long way to go to understanding myself and I don’t expect it to happen all in one day, but I’m ready to try.

  “Yah-huh,” Jack retorts and snickers as he tosses his bottle into the garbage can by the door. I roll my eyes at him. I’m feeling extremely tired all of a sudden and I pull my blankets up.

  “I think I’m going to nap for a little bit. Why don’t you head home and get some rest too?” I suggest.

  “Hey, don’t worry about me,” Jack says seriously.

  “Only if you promise not to worry about me,” I reply. He just gives me a stern look.

  “Fat chance,”he tells me. “You nap. I’ll go grab a shower and be back soon.” He slips into his jacket and pats the top of my head gently. “Sweet dreams, Buttface.”

  “Bye, Fartbrain,” I reply sweetly. He gives me half a grin before departing. I settle down into my crinkling pillow, ignoring the twinges of pain everywhere, and let myself fall fast asleep.

  …

  When I wake up, Paul is sitting in a chair near the foot of my bed, reading a paperback with one ankle resting on his knee. I take in his argyle socks and worn brown loafers. He’s wearing an emerald green sweater over a plaid collared shirt tucked into his wrinkled khakis. It takes me several minutes to get over the surprise of seeing him again. I haven’t fully processed his reappearance in my life yet. He’s the only connection I have to my mom and my life with her and it’s something I’ve been craving. But I’ve spent so long believing he hated me for killing my mom. I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t find the right thing to break the silence. He glances up at me, as if he sensed me watching him. He immediately closes his book and shuffles forward. His hands rest on the beige plastic bed railing.

  “Emma. I’m sorry if I woke you. How are you feeling?” His eyes are so full of concern. They’re a familiar shade but they look a little heavier than I remember. Deepened crows feet now frame them.

  “I’m hanging in there. You didn’t wake me, though,” I tell him. Ugh, there’s so much to say, where do I begin? “Paul. I’m so, so sorry.” My voice cracks on the last word. I can’t seem to keep my emotions in check anymore.

  “Sorry? What could you possibly be sorry for?” he asks incredulously. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Emma. I failed to protect your mother from harm. I failed to protect you from harm. Since the moment I met your mother, all I wanted was to take care of you both and it all fell apart because of stupid, petty violence I wasn’t able to prevent.” My head shakes vigorously. Never, not once, did I blame him.

  “No. I should have been there to protect her. I’m the one to blame,” I say. He must know that.

  “Dear God, Emma, no. Nothing could have stopped what happened. You being there would have only risked you and that is absolutely the last thing your mother would have wanted. You were her everything,” he states firm
ly. I open my mouth to object, but I hesitate. He’s not entirely wrong.

  “I’m starting to understand that,” I say. “I’ve been so angry that she was taken from me, but the only place I could direct it was at myself. If only I could have been better, somehow.”

  “I understand,” Paul says. “I relive it over and over, thinking of thousands of things I should have done differently. But that’s not healthy. We can’t bring her back by hating ourselves.” He pauses and looks down at his hands. His eyes are wet when they find mine again. “The only way I’ve been able to bring her back, to feel some comfort and peace, is to talk about her, about my happy memories with her. And with you, Emma. I know it was so long ago, but I never stopped thinking of you as my daughter.” My chest pinches painfully. I had wanted to hear those words so many times as a little kid.

  “I know you both tried to hide how serious you were, but I was a very observant kid,” I admit. “I used to practice calling you Dad in my head and I fantasized about having a house and a little brother. When I lost her, I lost you, too. I thought you hated me all this time.” But he doesn’t. A sense of relief fills me. I’ve finally said so many things I never could before. Things that I needed to say. My heart still hurts, but it aches in a way that I know will heal.