Shape Of Love

  Kristy braced herself for it. She tried to prepare herself for the worst; for the absolute worst case scenario, but she couldn't. Kristy couldn't even entertain the idea.

  The seconds seem to stretch out, lengthening and undulating right in front of her. It was as though time were moving in physical waves. As the doctor looked up and her lips parted, Kristy remembered the theory of Schrodinger's cat, and in that moment, Sam was both alive and dead. Kristy felt stuck in a moment that wouldn't end, and one in which it was equally likely that Sam was alive and that he was dead.

  “Sam received severe impact to his head,” the doctor began. “His skull was hit with blunt force trauma, and the trauma was exacerbated by the impact when he hit the pavement.”

  “Is he alive or dead?!” Kristy blurted.

  The doctor's face registered surprise and Kristy felt Brad place an arm around her shoulders.

  “He's not dead,” the doctor said in a steady and matter of fact tone.

  Kristy released a sigh and she felt Brad do the same beside her.

  “He is badly hurt,” the doctor continued. “He's stable, but he's going to have to remain in ICU. He's been placed in a medically-induced coma.”

  “Wait,” Lizette interjected. “why did he have to be placed into a medically-induced coma? What would happen if he wasn't?”

  Brad shook his head, as he locked eyes with Lizette.

  “The doctors know what they're doing, Liz. We don't need to question them. If a change needs to be made, Sam's parents will see to that when they get here.”

  Kristy felt her stomach drop down to her knees. She didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her that they would be coming. Of course they would be coming. They were a bit close-minded, but they were still Sam's parents and they loved him. Kristy pushed her worry aside. She shouldn't be making this about her. Sam was badly hurt and the least that Kristy could do was politely tolerate his abhorrent parents.

  “It's alright,” Kristy heard the doctor say, from what sounded like a thousand years away. “I can answer any questions that you all have. Sam is in a lot of pain, and his brain has sustained a great deal of trauma. We find that a medically-induced coma can help a patient heal faster, and it lowers the risk of cerebral leakage.”

  “Cerebral leakage?” Kristy whispered.

  The doctor nodded solemnly.

  “Sam has sustained a spiderweb fracture of the skull. If he were to move around too much, the fracture could worsen. Think of it this way, he has hundreds of little cracks running all over his skull right now. If he stays very still and doesn't strain himself, those fissures can heal properly. If he doesn't they could begin to break apart. Sam's brain could swell and fluid from the brain could leak down into the spinal cord. “

  Kristy cried out and for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, firmly clapped a hand down over her mouth.

  “Don't worry yourselves just yet,” the doctor continued, this time in a tone that was softer. “These are just all of the things that we're trying to avoid. Now Sam is probably going to have to remain in the ICU for quite some time. You all need to prepare yourselves for that. It's not great news, but it's not horrible news either. Sam is stable and right now we have no reason to believe that he won't pull through. Of course, that isn't something that I can promise. Please don't misunderstand me. But I will say, in my professional opinion, right now all signs are good.”

  Kristy clutched Brad's arm and wiped several tears from her wet and swollen eyes.

  “That's good,” she sobbed.

  Lizette stepped over to Kristy's right and began to rub her back in a soothing and reassuring manner.

  A clamoring was heard then, as two people stumbled in through the emergency room's automatic doors. Kristy's heart plummeted once more to her feet, and then just as quickly shot upwards into her throat. It was like one of those rocketing rides that could seen on the edge of pier, shooting people up to heights so great that they could see all of Coney Island.

  “Mrs. and Mr. George,” Kristy greeted them in a tone of melancholy deflation.

  Beverly rushed over to the doctor, with flushed cheeks and rapid breath. Albert scuttled quickly behind her.

  “Oh God!” Beverly panted. “We got here as quickly as we could. We were up at Foxwoods in Connecticut. Oh, Albert I told you we shouldn't go in the middle of the week!”

  “What in the hell does the day of the week have to do with anything?” Albert snapped. “Do criminals take weekends off? Was this assault a scheduled occasion?”

  “Stop it Albert!”

  “You're talking out of your ass, Bev!”

  Beverly clicked her tongue and turned again to the doctor.

  “Can you tell us what's happening?” Beverly pressed. “Is Sam going to be alright?”

  “He's stable,” the doctor said. “But he is in the ICU. He's in a medically-induced coma.”

  “What?!” Beverly shrieked, flinging a hand to her heart.

  “It's alright, Mrs. George,” the doctor reassured. “He is stable. It's just so that his skull fracture doesn't worsen.”

  Beverly began to sob and Kristy felt an acute stab of empathy for the woman. She was just as worried and sad as Kristy was. Maybe even more.

  “Here,” the doctor continued. “Why don't you come with me into the ICU. We can talk more and you can see your son. Now, it's usually only immediate family in the ICU, but we're having a slow day. Mrs. and Mr. George, I can allow you to bring one non-family member back with you.”

  Mr. George glanced at the three of them. Kristy felt herself stiffen under his angry glare.

  “Brad can come,” he snapped. And then he narrowed his eyes and took an aggressive step forward in Kristy's direction.

  “This young man can go home.”

  At first, Kristy did think that she was going to explode. Or implode. At the very least she would spontaneously combust. But none of these things happen. Her anger rose. It bloomed, and then it died. It was forceful and still it vanished as quickly and fervently as it had appeared. This wasn't about her. Even if she knew that she wasn't Mr. George's favorite person. Even if she knew that the idea of two trans people together was just too much for this small and mid-western man. It wasn't only about that. It was the stress of this day. He was worried about Sam, just as she was. Except that his worry had become anger and he was directing it at her.

  Kristy blinked and nodded, forcing herself to give a tense smile.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I'm leaving. Come on, Lizette.”

  Kristy felt tears began to pour once more down her cheeks, hot and plentiful.

  “Wait, no,” Brad said. “Don't leave, Kristy. Just wait a couple of minutes and I'll give you a ride home.”

  Kristy looked back and shook her head. She could hardly make out Brad' blurry form through her tears.

  “Now,” she said. “I don't want you to have to rush on my account. Go on. Go visit Sam. Please, say hi to my baby for me.”

  “Okay,” Brad said, with a frown. He appeared uneasy, glancing from Kristy to the Georges to the door next to the nurse's station that led into the ER. Kristy could see that he was conflicted and didn’t want to see Kristy denied access like this, but it was also obvious that he wanted to see his friend.

  “Go ahead,” Kristy reassured him. “He's not going to know that I'm here anyway. Besides I might just get upset if I see him all banged up and unconscious like that.”

  And with that Kristy spun on her heel and fled from the hospital.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kristy skipped class the next day. There just wasn't any way that she was going to be able to focus. All that she could think about was Sam. Despite how she had reassured Brad, she wished that she had gotten to see him. It was true that seeing him hurt would probably upset her, but she still wanted to be near him. Even if he wasn't awake and even if he couldn't speak to her, she only wanted to be by his side. She wanted to clutch his hand and feel the warmth emanating from it. She wanted t
o watch the rise and fall of his chest with each breath and take comfort, knowing that he remained stable, knowing that he continued to breathe.

  Brad had called her late last night. He had told her that Sam did look really rough, but in the two hours that he had remained in the ICU with Sam's parents his condition had remained stable. Kristy had tried to take reassurance in this. She had tried to look at the positives. But she couldn't shake the image of Sam lying in that bed. She didn't even know what condition he was in.

  So, of course, her mind conjured the worst. She envisioned Sam covered in bruises and blood, with eyes swollen shut and both lips fat and split. She saw casts and gauze on all of his appendages. She saw him lying unconscious with his beaten head hanging from a broken, lolled neck.

  Instead of going to class, Kristy spent the day pacing her apartment, biting her nails down to the quick. What was she going to do? Should she try to go see Sam again? Should she respect his parents' wishes and stay away?

  In the end, Kristy decided that she would go down to the hospital. Sam's parents had been very stressed yesterday. They would probably allow Kristy in to see Sam now that they'd had time to calm down. Kristy drew up all of her resolve, gathering her courage around her like a blanket.

  She showered and dressed quickly. She picked an outfit from her closet with far less care than she normally took. She usually took her time with her appearance and tried to wear something cute and flirty. She took the time to accessorize. But not today. She didn't care how she looked. She only wanted to get to Sam's side as quickly as possible. She threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She tied her hair up in ponytail, washed her face, and scurried out the door.

  Kristy rushed to the corner and was relieved to see that there was a cab coming her way. She flung an arm out and gave the cab a vigorous hail. She breathed a sigh of relief as the cab slowed and rolled up to the curb beside her. Kristy clambered into the cab and breathlessly gave the taxi-driver her destination.

  Kristy steadied her shaking hands in her lap, as the city's scenery blurred past. Kristy leaned her forehead against the window and tried to still the rapid beating of her heart.

  When the cab pulled up outside the hospital, Kristy paid her fare hastily, handing the bills over with shaking hands and rushed into the hospital's main reception area.

  Kristy approached the red-haired woman at the desk, with baited breath.

  “Hello,” Kristy said softly. “I'm here to see my friend. His name is Sam George. He came into the ER yesterday.”

  “Okay,” the woman said, fiddling with the large horn-rimmed glasses that hung on a chain around her neck. “Do you know what wing he's in now? Is he in cardio? Or is he up in orthopedics?”

  “He was in the ICU last I heard. His friend Brad called me last night and said he was still in a medically-induced coma. Is there a way to check and see if he's still there?”

  “Oh honey, if he's in ICU then I can't let you go in and see him. Not unless you're family.”

  Kristy wasn't usually one to lie or be dishonest, but this was a tough call. She desperately wanted to see Sam. She needed to be by his side and watch the rising and falling of his chest.

  “I am family,” Kristy blurted. “I'm his sister.”

  The red-haired woman raised an eyebrow.

  “And his friend had to call you and tell you his condition? Why wouldn't your parent shave called you?”

  Kristy felt her face flush under the woman's scrutiny and disbelief.

  “Brad got here before my parents. Besides, I didn't want to bug my parents last night, asking for updates. They're stressed out enough with my brother in the ICU.”

  “I thought you said you were looking for your friend,” the woman challenged.

  Kristy closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “I misspoke,” Kristy snapped. “Seriously? My brother is in a coma and you're going to make me stand here and argue with you?”

  Kristy surprised herself with the venom in her tone. She was never short with people. She didn't like to think of herself as someone who would mistreat or disrespect other people.

  The receptionist's mouth popped open and her eyes widened.

  “I'm sorry, Ma'am! It's just that I have to be careful about who I allow into the ICU. It's a semi-secured area.”

  Kristy clenched her jaw and nodded.

  “Fine. Fine,” she said brusquely. “Can you please just check to see if he's still in there?”

  The receptionist nodded.

  “Yes, I absolutely can,” she said. “Let's see...”

  The woman directed her attention to the computer in front of her, typing and clicking, and scrolling.

  “Yes,” she said, finally. “Sam George is still in the ICU. You'll need an escort. Hold on a moment. I'll call you an orderly.”

  Kristy clenched her hands around her purse strap and waited for an orderly to be summoned. A few minutes later, a tall man in scrubs arrived at her side.

  She followed him down a series of halls, and then through two doorways. Once inside of the ICU, Kristy glanced around. The inside of the ICU was quieter than Kristy had expected. The few patients that Kristy could see appeared to be sleeping. Two were inside of small glass rooms, hooked up to various machines, with wires and monitors extending from their heads and chests. The voices around her were hushed and muted. The only other noises were those of the machinery. The ambient noise of buzzing and beeping surrounded her.

  The orderly waved down a harried looking blonde nurse in pink scrubs.

  “Hey Janet,” he said. “Do you have a Sam George back here?”

  “Oh, yeah,” the nurse said. “I think he's in the back.”

  The nurse turned to Kristy, with sympathy in her eyes.

  “Are you here to see him?” she asked. “Is he your family?”

  Kristy nodded.

  “Yeah, I'm family,” she said.

  “The hell you are!”

  Kristy spun in the direction of the anger-fueled voice behind her.

  Heat flooded into her cheeks as Mr. George’s irate face filled her vision.

  “What are you doing here?” Mr. George snapped.

  He stepped in Kristy's space, darting a finger menacingly into her face to punctuate each syllable.

  “I told you that you weren't welcome!” he yelled. “You aren't to come near my son!”

  The orderly and the nurse turned to Kristy with confusion on their faces.

  “Wait,” The orderly said. “Sam isn't your brother?”

  “No, he isn't her brother!” Mr. George bellowed. “What kind of operation are you clowns running in here? I don't want this freak show anywhere near my son! I don't authorize visits from him.”

  Mr. George ended this rant with a glower directed Kristy's way.

  “Please, Mr. George,” Kristy cried. “I really love your son and I just want to visit him.”

  “No! Get out!”

  “Can you at least tell me how he is?” Kristy pleaded.

  “Absolutely not!” Mr. George yelled with a red face. “It isn't any of your concern. The only reason he's even hurt is because of you. People like you. This whole damaged and sick community!”

  Tears flooded into Kristy's eyes and she shook her head sadly.

  “I'm just a person who cares about you son,” Kristy pleaded softly. “I just care about him. I just want to know that he's okay. Will you at least tell me that he's okay?”

  Mr. George set his mouth into a hard thin line.

  “Ma'am, if you aren't family, than I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the orderly said gently. He placed a hand on Kristy's shoulder.

  “Nothing's going to get resolved this way,” the orderly continued. “Since the patient's family doesn't want you here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Kristy nodded, still blinking back tears.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I'll go.”

  Kristy brought a hand to her face and the tears began to fall from her eyes. She
stumbled out of the ICU and burst out into the hall. Kristy raced down the hall and out of the hospital.

  She cried the entire cab ride home, feeling as though her heart might break.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam couldn't open his eyes at first. His eyelids were much too heavy. His brain achieved consciousness several minutes before his lids flickered open. When he did open his eyes, he found that he was staring up at a blinding fluorescent light and dusty drop-tile ceiling. To his right, a machine was hissing as air filled it and then was released from it. There was something clipped to his left index finger and wires stuck to his chest with small rubber circles.

  Sam coughed and tried to lift his head. His throat felt incredibly dry.

  “Sam! Oh you're awake!”

  Sam smiled as his mother rushed to his side and began to fawn over him.

  “Hey, Mom,” Sam said with a weak grin.

  “Oh Sam! You look terrible! How do you feel?”

  “My head hurts,” Sam whispered.

  His mother frowned and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I'll bet,” she murmured. “Sam, you've been in a coma for the past three days. You were beaten so badly that you had to have surgery. Those animals gave you three broken rips, a punctured lung, and a cranial bleed. You were bleeding inside of your skull! You can't imagine how worried I was. I'm so glad that you're alright. I'm so happy that you're awake.”

  His mother began to shed tears. They dripped from eyes and lay glistening against her cheeks.

  “Oh come on, Mom,” Sam whispered. “Don't cry. There's no reason for you to cry. I'm alright now.”

  Mrs. George shook her head.

  “Sam, what happened?” she asked.

  “These guys jumped me,” Sam said. “There was a bunch of them and they all just ganged up on me.”

  “But why would they do that?”

  “I met one of them in a bar last week. We got to talking and I told them I was trans. He seemed really nice at first. I don't usually tell people that. I don't want them to think of me as trans. I just want them to think of me as a regular guy.”