Selling the Drama

by Theresa Smith

  The doctor looked at her carefully, his face kind within its seriousness. "Nothing is ever certain, especially with the human body after it endures extensive trauma. But I'm quite confident about his recovery. He's young and was in good health before the accident; those strengths will aid greatly in seeing him through."

  She exhaled in a rush, sagging back in her chair, so relieved but still so frightened, because she had not yet seen him, and by all accounts from this doctor, she needed to prepare herself for the worst, visually.

  "I really need to see him."

  He nodded, rising from his seat. "Then let's go and see him."

  Charlotte walked beside him down the hall; they took the elevator up one floor and she took note that they had now entered a new ward, the intensive care one. The one where the worst could still happen. She thrust her shaking hands into her pockets, clenching the fabric within as she curled her hands into fists. She could only hope the staff would direct Jake up here when he finally returned from the car park. Usually these situations were closed off to family only, but Charlotte expected that Jake, still outfitted in his uniform, would not be denied admittance. At least she hoped that would be the case; she really needed him right now.

  The doctor pushed through a door and held it open for her; they entered what seemed to be a central hub, with a medical station in the middle and rooms with glass walls surrounding it in a circular design. The doctor walked directly to another door, the room beyond deliberately dim in comparison to the area they had just passed through, the sounds of medical equipment punctuating the otherwise quiet air. When the door closed behind them, she had a sensation of being vacuum sealed. She had never been in intensive care before, had never known a person so gravely injured or so seriously ill. Peering back over her shoulder, Charlotte could see a nurse taking a seat at the central desk, her eyes trained to the computer monitor in front of her, a split screen showing eight beds, a condensed representation of her responsibility for the duration of her shift.

  Gently cupping her elbow, the doctor guided Charlotte over to the side of the bed, the right side, where Toby still looked relatively normal, despite the cuts and bruises that covered his entire face. Her eyes drifted to the other side of his body, so broken and bandaged, his arm elevated, his torso wrapped tightly, and his leg ending just below the knee in a thick covering of bandages that swathed the entire stump that remained. Charlotte gripped the side of the bed rail, her legs giving way beneath her. There were so many parts of him damaged; so many injuries that needed to heal, and this was not including the ones hidden inside of his body that she could not even see.

  "You can stay with him. I expect he'll wake up in the next half an hour," the doctor offered.

  Charlotte nodded. "My friend, the police officer that was with me. Can he come in here?"

  "I'll let him know where to find you. If you need anyone at any time, press that button right there." He pointed to a clearly marked assistance button on the wall just above the bed head. "I'll come back shortly so I can take a look at him as he wakes. Nurses are directly on hand and monitoring him closely." He left her then, closing the door softly behind him.

  Charlotte looked back down at Toby, reaching her hand out to run it through his hair. It felt gritty between her fingers and as she swept them through the strands again, she noticed a few shards of glass dropping down into the palm of her hand. They glinted under the overhead light, tiny shining pieces of evidence, a tell on just how close he had come to death. This glass, it could be from his car, or it could be from the truck that had hit him.

  Sinking down into a chair that was lined up beside the bed, she rested her head against the cool metal of the rail, concentrating exclusively on her breathing; deep inhalations she held onto for long seconds before letting each one out with a shudder. She did not want to cry right now; not when he might wake up at any moment and see her. She needed to be as strong for him as he would be for her if this situation were reversed. She needed to be as controlled as he had been when Porter had attacked her all those years ago; she had thought she was going to die that night, but Toby had remained focused throughout, getting her help and keeping her as still as she possibly could be in order to prevent further blood loss. She needed to be as calm as he had been throughout each one of their children's births. She needed to channel him in order to help him. If Toby could overcome his anxiety and combat his natural inclination to panic on each of those other occasions, then she had better be able to hold it together right now, the only time he had ever really needed her to step up.

  With one hand still buried within his hair and the other gripping the cold metal rail, she waited.

  Toby woke to pain. It was everywhere, intense and raw, stealing his every breath away. A light beamed down from the ceiling above him, dim, yet still blinding. He tried to bring his right hand up to his face so he could shield his eyes, but the movement brought him so much pain, he cried out from the effort.

  "Hey. It's alright. Just lie still." Charlotte leaned over his face, blocking the light, her hair falling down like a curtain, the strands brushing against his neck. Her hand came to rest along the side of his face, cool and comforting. He leaned into it ever so slightly.

  "What's happened to me?" He winced with pain, the effort of talking seemed even beyond his capabilities right now.

  "You were in a car accident. With a truck." Charlotte's voice wobbled and he watched as she struggled for composure, her eyes blinking rapidly, a forced smile that resembled a grimace more than anything comforting gracing her lovely lips.

  "I don't remember it. What's wrong with me?"

  Her hand remained fixed against his face, but she moved her thumb slowly, stroking him along the temple. Her eyes filled with tears that she seemed to be trying to blink away. "I'll get the doctor."

  Toby shook his head, reaching out with his right hand to take hold of her arm, gasping from the effort, yet persistent in his goal. He closed his hand around her forearm. "Tell me first what's wrong with me," he insisted, wanting to hear it from her in place of a doctor who would no doubt overload him with medical jargon he had no ability to concentrate on in the present moment.

  Charlotte stroked his cheek again, leaning down to press her lips against his forehead, resting them there, her tears falling onto his face. "I love you so much," she said tearfully, her lips grazing his skin once more before pulling back.

  Toby looked at her fearfully, a deep sense of unease taking root within him. She never told him that she loved him; he knew how much she did. But he could remember every single time she had simply just come right out and said it. He looked her directly in the eyes, smiling ruefully. "I must be pretty fucked up if you're telling me you love me."

  Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with both hands, a cry of sorrow so winsome coming out of her it brought tears to Toby's own eyes. He craned his neck in an attempt to get a look at himself, but he was unable to raise his body at all, so visibility was completely impossible. Dropping her hands and swiping at her face to rid it of tears, Charlotte looked right at him and began to list the many injuries he had suffered.

  "And my leg? How badly is that broken?" It hurt like nothing else; more than his arm and shoulder combined. Toby watched as Charlotte's face changed, tragedy writing itself all over it.

  "Toby, your leg is gone. It's been amputated just below the knee."

  There are moments in life when time seems to stop. Sometimes the pause is felt in the moment; other times the reflection comes later. Toby felt this pause presently; he could not breathe, he could not speak; he could not even truly believe that he had heard her correctly. Time had stopped and he did not want it to restart again. Concentrating all of his efforts, gritting his teeth, he gripped the rail of the bed beside him with his one good hand and swung himself up, black dots swimming before him, so overcome by pain he could barely tolerate it. He glanced down to the end of the bed, evidence of what she had just told him lying there for his own con
firmation. Letting go of the rail, Toby thumped back down onto the bed, the pain eclipsing all else, a cry of agony wailing out of him that had nothing to do with realising he now only had one leg. He had moved too much; he could vaguely hear Charlotte calling his name as he passed out, the darkness blanking the pain, a welcome retreat from the reality he was now intent on avoiding.

  Toby spent much of the next forty eight hours drifting in a haze of pain. During one moment of clarity, he woke to see Charlotte curled up in a chair beside his bed, her head dropped to one side as she slept, her hand wrapped tightly around a cord that ran down from one of the IV-lines connected to his arm. Pain medication, Toby thought. She is controlling my pain medication. He watched her for a few moments, no idea on how long he had been in the hospital so far; no idea on how long she had been sitting beside this bed for him. She would hold the universe together for him for as long as it took. If tomorrow never came for him, she would survive. He couldn't say the same for himself if their positions were reversed.

  Charlotte could tell each time the pain medication would wear off. He would not necessarily wake, rather he would slip into a state of agitation that would often lead to a cry of agony if she did not press the button to deliver another dose soon enough. The nurses assured her he could not overdose; the system would not allow her to administer a dose too soon after the other and it would automatically dispense a dose if she left it too long, but she was still hesitant to press it automatically every twenty minutes. So she would wait sometimes, to see if he really needed it yet, and then feel like shit when he seemed to go from being okay to experiencing sheer agony within thirty seconds.

  Exhaustion had nothing on her. Ellie drifted in several times a day through til late at night for those first two days, a wailing Danielle in her arms for Charlotte to feed. After the last time, two hours previous, Charlotte had handed her daughter back over to Ellie with a heavy heart and instructions to tell her mother to wean the baby to a bottle. It was unfair on them to have to bring her down here every few hours and it was not possible for Charlotte to keep the baby here with her. Danielle was too mobile now, too much in need of attention, and Charlotte had none left over to give.

  Leaving Toby was not an option at this point. He was still too critical and Charlotte was not yet convinced he would not die if she left the hospital. Of course, he might still die with her right beside him, but at least she would be here with him if he did.

  After Ellie left with Danielle, Charlotte cried for an entire hour. Six months was the youngest age she had ever stopped feeding one of her babies, and Danielle was her last one. She felt enormously cheated and even though she knew Danielle would be just fine, she still felt a deep sense of abandonment. She could not even bring herself to think of what the other children might be feeling right now, having not seen either of their parents for two entire days and nights.

  Charlotte pressed the pain button again as Toby began to moan and shift. After watching him settle, she left the room so she could make a quick phone call. Out in the hall, she dialled Eloise, her most experienced trainer at the gym.

  "Eloise, it's Charlotte," she greeted, as the other woman answered her phone.

  "Oh my goodness, Charlotte! How is Toby? Are you all alright?" Eloise's voice was high with concern, gushing out in rivers of sympathy and sadness.

  "He's very critical. The kids are with Mum of course and she has Ellie and Jake staying there to help her out. I need you to keep things running over at the gym for me. I don't know how long it will be until I come in again. Can you see if Aaron can take over my acro classes? He should be able to muddle through. I have some training manuals and DVD's in my office he can have a look at for some direction." She pinched the bridge of her nose, all of the elements of daily life that would need to be juggled fighting their way into her consciousness.

  "Don't worry about all that, we'll be fine. I can get Bree each afternoon from Kindy if you like and bring her back to the gym for a few hours to give your mum a break. She can run through routines and follow me around," Eloise offered kindly.

  Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a ragged breath. She nodded, but then realised Eloise would not be able to see this. The appreciation she felt right now for all those around her was immense. "Thank you, Eloise. So much. But if she becomes painful, don't hesitate to let her know you won't pick her up the next day unless she pulls back into line." Bree could be contrary when she put her mind to it.

  "Oh, she won't be painful. You know I adore her. She reminds me of myself as a kid; a little pocket rocket. I'll just work her hard so she's really exhausted for your mum each night." Eloise laughed softly. "Besides, when Aaron sees how good I am with kids, he might shake a leg, literally, and let the two of us get on with the rest of our lives."

  Charlotte laughed along with her. Eloise and Aaron had a friends with benefits type of arrangement that amused the rest of them down at the gym to no end. Lately though, all the benefits seemed stacked on Aaron's side, as Eloise realised more and more she wanted a proper relationship, with commitment and plans. Charlotte was not holding out much hope for her though. Aaron was not a serious young man at all; he liked the bachelor life too much and did not seem inclined to be making any future plans beyond those that extended to the coming weekend. Still, Charlotte could not blame Eloise for trying. When you had your sights set on someone, it was often hard to see the bigger picture.

  "Well, here's hoping Bree doesn't have the opposite effect for you," she said. "Thanks again, Eloise. You have no idea how much having you take this on helps me right now. It's an incredible relief."

  "All good boss. Take care."

  Charlotte smiled at that. The title of boss was a joke they had running between them. Charlotte was the most un-boss-like boss you could ever come across. "I will. Bye now." She hung up and slumped against the wall, exhaustion taking her over. She stood there for about thirty seconds until the panic set in and she had to return back to the side of Toby's bed, where she could examine him carefully, take note of the fact that he was still very much alive, and that she had not missed anything at all by stepping out into the hall for ten minutes.

  Toby developed a fever that accelerated at a rapid pace, the first indication he was gripped with an infection. This was not unexpected, given the extent of his injuries and the surgery he had undergone, the likelihood of it happening even greater owing to the removal of his spleen. His dosage of antibiotics was increased and his pain medication was administered more frequently. Charlotte sat beside the bed and watched as he deteriorated right before her eyes. His temperature continued to rise and his vitals continued to plummet.

  Charlotte held onto his hand continuously, as though by doing so, she could ensure his survival. If she hung on, then he would have no choice but to hang on also. He was agitated the majority of the time now, not even the pain medication being able to ease him. Nurses came and went, all with a calm demeanour that unsettled Charlotte more than it assured her. She could not help but wonder if their lack of concern was more to do with professionalism rather than the seriousness of his condition, or lack thereof. The doctor explained Toby had an infection at the site of his splenectomy and that the antibiotics should activate to temper this within the next twenty four hours. He too, seemed ridiculously calm.

  Ellie crept into the room one night, a bit after midnight. She pulled up a chair beside Charlotte and hugged her wordlessly, holding on for several long moments before drawing back and placing a bag onto Charlotte's lap.

  "What's this?" Charlotte asked wearily, so incredibly exhausted.

  "You've probably already got one but I didn't want to look through your stuff so I just went and bought another one. I've sterilised it so it's all ready to use." Ellie regarded Charlotte carefully while she peered into the paper bag.

  Charlotte turned to Ellie after she had taken a look and sagged against her friend. Ellie put her arm back around Charlotte, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze.

  "She didn'
t like the formula and I felt bad persisting so I thought you could give this a try. She might go back to the breast when you get home if she's still drinking your milk."

  Charlotte sniffled, tears dripping down her cheeks. "You are the best friend ever. Thank you so much. With so much going on, I didn't even think of this as an option."

  Ellie kissed Charlotte on the top of her head. "I'm only such a great best friend because I have the greatest best friend as an example to draw from. I'll take some back with me now but you can keep going and just put it in the fridge here for me to collect each time I pop in."

  "How are the kids?" Charlotte asked, looking at Ellie tearfully.

  "Ashley is worried in that serious quiet way that he has. Bree is beginning to push it a bit. Courtney is very clingy, but Jake's all over that one so she's settled down a lot today. And Danielle is fine. I have her with me mostly." Ellie smiled at that. "She is such a beautiful baby."

  Charlotte nodded, reaching out to take Ellie's hand in her own. She pulled it up to her lips, kissing it gently. "Thank you." She was unsurprised Ellie had taken command of Danielle's care.

  "You don't have to worry. We're all fine. Jenna and Chad are driving up in one trip tomorrow. When they get here we'll be more than one adult to each child." Ellie laughed lightly then. "I don't know how you do it. Split yourself between four like that."

  "I have Mum there all the time and Toby at night and on weekends. It's not just me," Charlotte replied, unwilling to take all the credit. She honestly had no idea how she would manage without her mother.

  "But you're their mum," Ellie contradicted. "They all want a piece of you."

  "They all want a piece of everyone," Charlotte countered. She shrugged then. "I feel awful because I can't go home to be with them, but I wouldn't be able to just duck back for a half an hour. I'd be there for ages and I just can't leave him, Ellie. I can't. It's a struggle to even leave to grab something to eat or to use the bathroom. I panic and have to race back here. I just need to be with him." She wiped her eyes then, accepting a tissue from Ellie gratefully.