by Aliza Mann
STATUS: IN SURGERY
It had been like that for hours. He hadn’t gone into surgery when he arrived. The officer had said a cardiothoracic surgeon was coming from another trauma center to work on him. When he’d gotten there, they took Ashton right in. The only consolation for me was the best surgeons were usually in trauma. It was the only thing that kept me from going off on everyone in that hospital.
“Terra…” I heard from behind me.
I turned around to find Gloria, charging in my direction with tears in her eyes. “Lord, girl,” she said. “Why didn’t you call me? I saw the story on the news and nearly had to fight these hospital people to help me find you. Why didn’t you call me?” she repeated. She circled and took a seat beside me before pulling me close to her. She smelled like cherries and cinnamon, a sure sign she’d been making turnovers when she heard the news. She was as good at making them as I was with pancakes.
“No phone. I don’t have a charger so it’s dead. And I can’t remember…anyone…the numbers wouldn’t come to…” The words jumbled as my mind clouded over and the tears fell. I collapsed into her, letting her hug me and stroke my back.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m here now. Shhh…honey, it’ll be okay.”
I’m not sure how long I cried. It was becoming more like gut-wrenching wailing as opposed to crying. The whole time, Gloria held me.
She didn’t let go until I pulled away from her. But I had no words. There was nothing to say to adequately express how grateful I was to Ashton after he saved my life or to explain how you fall for someone when you’ve known them for only a few days, really. What did you say when there probably weren’t enough words in Webster’s for the well of emotion raging inside?
“I’m so sorry this happened to you. Did they tell you anything about his condition?”
I tried to say that no one had come out in hours, but I couldn’t. I felt too worn—too weak. I just shook my head and pointed to the board that showed his status.
Her eyes followed my hand, then she returned her attention to me. “Well, we’ll see if we can call someone in a little while if the status doesn’t change. Did you eat?”
I shook my head again and used the old napkin I’d been holding on to since I got there to wipe my face. It was in tatters.
“Here, honey,” Gloria said, reaching around in her satchel and pulling free a purse-size packet of tissues.
“Thank you…” My voice trailed off, morphing into a sniffle. More tears came, but I was able to pull it back together after a moment.
“Do you want me to get you anything? What can I do?”
I glanced back up at the television screen and saw a handsome actor affecting a police officer’s swagger, then over to the monitor on the wall with Ashton’s condition.
PATIENT: LYLE, ASHTON
CONDITION: CRITICAL
STATUS: IN SURGERY
“Just sit with me, Gloria. I just need someone to be here…to sit here.” I moved my hand to my chest, holding the spot where the dull ache had been since all of it went down.
“Okay, honey. I’ve got you.”
She leaned over and put her arm around my shoulder. I rested my head on her shoulder, more grateful for her mere presence than she could ever comprehend.
We sat there in silence for a long while. Long enough for the show to go off and the eleven o’clock news to come on. Gloria took the remote and turned it to Hollywood Extra. I knew she was doing it to protect me from seeing the story again. And I was grateful to her for that. It was nice to have someone anticipate your needs without a single word. She was good like that.
The hours went by, or maybe it just felt like hours. I’d started to drift off. The sound of canned laughter jarred me awake and I sat up. Gloria was asleep, her hand clutching the remote and head back, her arm still around my shoulder. She jarred, too, when I sat up.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s um…1 A.M.,” she mumbled, sleep not fully out of her voice.
I glanced up at the board.
PATIENT: LYLE, ASHTON
CONDITION: CRITICAL
STATUS: POST-OP RECOVERY
“Oh my god, he’s out of surgery,” I said, leaping from my chair.
Earlier in the day, I’d seen people use the phone to call a nurse, who would in turn take them back to see their family members. I wasn’t family, but that didn’t stop me from nearly lunging across the room to pick up the black phone. The instructions read “Dial 0 for information.” I hit the button and the phone let out a little squeak from the pressure.
“Detroit East Mercy Surgical Unit.”
“Yes, um…I’ve been waiting for an update for Ashton Lyle. It says…the board says he’s out of surgery. May I see him?”
“One moment, ma’am, I’ll be right over.” While the words were encouraging, her voice was less than kind. It was almost annoyed.
I replaced the phone on the base and waited by the door. “Gloria, they’re coming to get me.”
“Okay, honey.” She smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Thank you so much for being here, Gloria.”
“No problem. I’m glad he’s out of surgery.”
The gray painted door clicked open, a buzzing sound going off, and swung wide on an automatic mechanism. I stepped forward only to be met by a tall, pale woman who looked to be only a couple of years younger than I was, but her job had obviously aged her. Her eyes had no joy left in them.
“Are you the family of Mr. Lyle?” her tone was flat, much like her serious case of RBF.
“Well, yeah. She’s his wife.” Gloria spoke up from across the room. I wanted to hug her, but that would have highlighted her slight modification of the truth.
The administrator—that’s what her badge said anyway—glanced down at my ring finger but didn’t say anything. Her eyes narrowed, and she landed a skeptical glare in my direction. “Follow me, Mrs. Lyle.”
And then I was in. I glanced over my shoulder at Gloria, who gave me a little wink. I hadn’t been to the hospital for someone I cared for in so long…not since my parents. The excitement of him being out of surgery nearly made me forget the protocols.
The hallways were long, and bright with fluorescent lighting. We walked for what seemed like two miles when we finally made it to a doorway with a big green sign above the double doors that read ICU.
She hit a panel with a little wheelchair on it on the wall and the doors swung open going in opposite directions—one in, the other out.
We walked through, then down another long hallway and another until finally we reached a room marked Cardiac Telemetry.
There were several beds out in the open, patients on each, and a big round desk in the middle of the floor. Curtains hung around each bed, but all of them were open, probably to allow easy access in case someone experienced cardiac arrest.
Evil Administrator walked to the bed closest to the wall and stopped. Turning to me, she held out her hand, motioning for the chair. Ashton looked as if he was sleeping, but he was grimacing, which he had every right to.
“Mr. Lyle, your wife is here,” she said before turning back to me. “Don’t pull the curtains closed. And since this is the ICU, you’ll have to limit your visit.” With that, she was turning on her heels and heading back across the wide-open expanse of the room. Her sensible shoes squeaked on the floor as she walked away.
“Wife…where are you wife?” Ashton croaked, coughing a little.
My tears were back, but I stood up from the chair and leaned over the bed, careful not to disturb any of the thousands of cords coming from his bed. “I’m right here. And stop before you get me tossed out of here on my ass,” I said. I glanced around, the smaller version of the fluorescent lighting just over his bed showed the dar
k circles around his eyes, the many different machines, and the source of the beeping connected to Ashton, a standing heart monitor, with green lights showing levels for pulse, oxygen, and other things I knew nothing about. “I was so worried about you.”
“Me, too. You know, throwing yourself on an armed gunman is a lot different than—” Ashton winced and closed his eyes tightly, the beeps accelerating. He took a deep breath and I freaked the fuck out inside. I was about to grab a nurse until the noise slowed and he opened his eyes. “—people make it out to be.”
I was crying again. Still holding my not-so-fresh tissue, I wiped away my tears, hoping he didn’t see them. I wanted to seem strong and brave, just like he had been. I didn’t need to be a blubbering mess while he was trying to recover. The last thing he needed was to be worried about me. “Yeah, so please…don’t do that shit again.”
He managed a weak smile. I was almost afraid to touch him for fear of disconnecting something since the wires were everywhere. I reached in and pulled the covers up a little over his arms. “I’m going to go, because I don’t want you getting into trouble. I’ll be back when you’re in a regular room. Can you try to get some rest and not act up with these nice people? They did dig a bullet from your chest, you know.” I smiled before leaning in and kissing him on the forehead.
As I pulled away, I felt his hand on mine. He opened his eyes again and stared at me, determination in his eyes. “Did they get him?”
Fresh, hot tears sprang up in my eyes and I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“You’re safe,” he croaked. His voice was so weak. So very weak. The beeping sound sped up again. I let out a shhh but he shook his head. “Are you safe now? He’s not getting out of jail, is he?”
“No, Ashton. I’m safe. He’s in jail on a million-dollar bond for attempted murder. The DA is going to ask for the bond to be revoked since he came after me in the club on Tuesday. So, yes. I am very safe. Gloria is outside, too.”
Ashton didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened and he released my hand. The slight nod was enough for me to know he was okay.
I kissed him again, on the cheek this time, because I couldn’t help it. No one had ever cared for me the way he had. It was a great feeling. I wished he hadn’t gotten shot while caring for me, and a part of me was really guilty about that, but still, I had never been so grateful for another person walking into my life.
“You have to come stay with me when you get out of here. And I’ll make you whatever food you want, 24/7. I promise.”
I smiled, but he didn’t say anything. His breathing slowed into a rhythmic, steady sound, and I knew he must have been sleeping.
Once more I kissed him, before turning and leaving my brave, sweet Ashton in his hospital bed.
On my way back to Gloria, I was going to ask her to take me home to get my car so I could come back. I didn’t want him to be moved into his room and not have me waiting for him. With a nod, I passed by McMeanikins. She hit the automatic door and released me back into the waiting room.
Gloria was waiting by the door when I stepped through, and instantly, everything I’d been holding inside released—the fear, the relief, the anxiety, the pain, and the love—coming forth in a rush that left me too weak to stand. Gloria caught me in her arms, stroking my back.
“He’s okay, honey? He’s all right, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He is fine. He even joked a little. He’s not out of the woods, but he’s…” The crying took control again. This time, though, they were tears of joy.
Chapter 19
Ashton
“Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice was stern but tinged with her usual humor.
The late afternoon sunlight was casting a glow around her as she stood in the kitchen making me another of her diet-appropriate meals. The chest tube had been removed within two weeks of the surgery and I’d been staying at her place for the six days following my release from a fifteen-day stint at the hospital, so she could keep an eye on me. That included limiting my visits from Gary, no drinking, and alas, no goddamn fun. Even my diet alternated between newborn bland and geriatric soft. There was no reason for her to behave as if I had no teeth at all, but she said she’d wanted to make sure I took it easy on my stomach because of the painkillers. Sure, they had effects on the body, but I was deeply missing things like butter and red meat, not to mention my whiskey. Never thought I’d know a life without those things. “I was just coming down to see your lovely face, beautiful. It’s lonely in that bed without you,” I replied. Food wasn’t the only thing restricted from my diet.
“I told you I’d be right back. C’mon,” she said, coming toward me from the stove with a serving spoon in her hand. She had on sweats with her hair secured in a high bun and no makeup. She was still the most gorgeous woman I’d seen, ever. “You can sit on the couch if you need a change of scenery.”
“Ah yes, from one hospital bed to another. I feel like I’m in a convalescent home.”
Terra grabbed my hand and led me to the couch, dismissing my complaint with a wave of her spoon. “I would have insisted they put you in one if you were going to behave this way.”
“Like what? A child?” I asked, following her to my designated spot. The blanket was still there from the day before. “How else should I behave when you’ve taken all my favorite things away?”
“Like an adult who’s been shot in the chest. Near your heart. With several ribs broken and just had a chest tube removed. Now have a seat so I can take care of you. The sooner you’re healthy, the sooner you can have your favorite things back.” Picking up the blanket, she did a little shimmy with her hips, rotating them in semicircles. I damn near drooled.
“Fine,” I said, no less like a child. My still-sore left side ached a bit as I flopped onto the couch and the wince was probably quite visible on my face.
“See? Look at you. Can’t even sit down without any pain. Dr. Silas said you’d need a few months until you were back to yourself.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m going without having you beneath me for a few months.”
With a smile, she laid the blanket over me and tucked in the sides. As she drew closer, I could smell her now familiar pear-scented shampoo and shea coconut bodywash. The fragrant combination made me want to grab her and hold her close to me, but my strength wasn’t where it had been and would have caused more pain probably. So I just inhaled deeply, catching her attention. “You need to behave, sir. Think you can do that?” She was leaning over me, her hand on the armrest to stabilize herself as she hovered over me. Using my good arm, I slid my hand around her neck and drew her down for a kiss. Her full lips pressed against mine, the warmth of her better than any blanket. She moaned into my mouth, and as I pulled her closer, she backed away. “See, that’s why I can’t even get close to you. You’re a brat.” But she was still smiling when she stood up, crossing her arms over her chest and that blasted spoon sticking up in one of her hands.
“I just needed to remind you of what you’re missing while playing the good nurse.”
“If it means you’ll be back on your feet sooner, I’ll deal with it. I don’t like it any better than you, mister. Taking good care of you is the least I can do after you—”
“C’mon, Terra. Stop it. I told you, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. End of story.”
“I know but…”
“No buts. I’m already trying to stop thinking of yours and you keep bringing it up.”
I think it took a minute for the joke to hit her, a slow smile winding up her mouth. “Funny guy. Fine, but you need to be cool and lie here while I get your barley soup. I think you’ll like it.”
She was walking away before I called after her. “Meat in it today?”
“I used cubed beef, so yes. You may have a little. I just want to make sure you’re getting enough fiber.”
The loud sigh was mixed in with a groan. “Finally, I get at least one thing I’ve been longing for. Thank you, kind lady.”
“You’re welcome, with your spoiled ass.”
I watched her as she filled two bowls and cut up garlic bread before placing all of it on a tray and bringing it out to the coffee table in front of the couch. For all my lamenting, dinner actually smelled wonderful. She’d told me before her cooking wasn’t great, but from what I could tell, she wasn’t bad at it. I’d been here for around twenty meals with her, and not one was repugnant. That was way more than I could say about my own fare.
“Here we are,” she said as she set the entire thing on the table. “Can you sit up a little?” Leaning down, she grabbed the small lap table I’d been having my meals on.
“I can,” I said, using my strong arm to slide my body upward. As gentle as I tried to be, the pain was intense. It must have been nearing time for another dose of meds. I didn’t like being so dependent on them, but it had been worth it to stop the bullet intended for her.
“Careful,” she said. Terra pulled beneath my arm to help me gain more leverage until I was fully upright.
“Got it. All good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, again. You don’t have to keep thanking me. I want to do this. It’s a pleasure to take care of you, even if you are obstinate and a little on the fresh side when you’re in pain.”
“Fresh? I don’t even know what you mean.”
“Like yesterday, when I was helping you wash up, you told me to spend extra time on your junk. Then you pulled me on top of you and ground against me. I thought your stitches were going to pop.” The steam from the hot soup warmed up my face as she set the tray on my lap. My stomach growled in response and I took another deep inhale of the hearty scent.
“I only have two of them left from the chest tube, so trust me, I won’t bleed out.”
“Not the point. You need your strength, and us doing the horizontal mambo isn’t going to help matters.”