by Marie Meyer
Chapter Thirty
Sarah pushed the speed limit as we sailed down I-95 toward the airport. I stared out the window even though the blackened sky swallowed the landscape. Inside my head, the same question looped endlessly: What if?
“Jillian,” Sarah said, looking over at me. “Chandra and I won’t be able to go with you past security.” She continued to walk me through the steps I’d need to complete in order to get on my flight. “We’ll help you get your boarding pass when we get there. Your flight takes off at 6:00 p.m. You’ll arrive in St. Louis at 10:43 p.m.”
I stared at her, nodding my head. “That’s so far away,” I whispered.
“I know, but that’s the earliest flight they had.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed.
Chandra reached around from the backseat and rubbed my shoulder. They both tried to comfort me the best they could.
My phone rang again, and I quickly fished it out of my purse. Ren’s number lit up the display screen. “Hello?” My voice was frantic; I was craving information.
“Jillian.” Ren breathed heavily.
“What’s going on? How is he?” Questions tumbled from my mouth faster than she could answer.
“He’s in surgery right now.”
“Surgery? Why? What’s wrong?” I shouted. Sarah’s eyes darted from the road to my face as she tried to fill in the missing pieces of the conversation.
“I still don’t know any more than I did the last time we spoke. I haven’t talked to anyone. But—”
“Call me as soon as you know anything,” I demanded, cutting her off before she finished her sentence.
“I will, Jillian. Are you on your way?” she asked.
“Mm-hm. The earliest flight I could get leaves in two hours, but I’m coming.”
“He’s going to make it. He’s going to be all right,” she chanted. I didn’t know if Ren was trying to comfort herself or me. Did it really matter? At this point, any consolations were meant for the both of us.
“He is,” I affirmed. “Ren?” My voice quivered. “If you see him before I get there, tell him I’m on my way, and that I love him.”
Ren inhaled a sob. “I will. See you soon.”
“Soon.” I disconnected the call and dropped my hands to my lap.
“What did she say?” Sarah asked.
“He’s in surgery, but she doesn’t know why. The doctor hasn’t been out to talk with her yet. That’s all she knows.”
“That’s good, then. Surgery, I mean. He’s hanging in there. He’s still alive.” Sarah rambled as she turned the car onto the exit for the airport.
Chandra patted my shoulder. “I agree with Sarah. He’s fighting for you, Jillian.”
I wanted to believe them, but the what ifs were louder than their words of comfort.
The airport was deserted. Sarah, Chandra, and I walked right up to the ticket counter and got my boarding pass. As we walked the short distance between the ticket counter and the security line, my stomach knotted as realization set in—I was about to board a plane. But knowing Griffin lay unconscious on an operating table spurred me onward.
I could do this. For him.
“This is as far as we can go,” Chandra said, stopping at the security barriers. Chandra didn’t hesitate to pull me into a warm hug. “He’s going to be all right,” she whispered in my ear. I wanted to believe her. “Call us when you know more.”
I pulled away, looking into her dark eyes. “I will.” I nodded.
She released me and Sarah immediately jumped in her place. Her arms were around me instantly. “What if…he…doesn’t…?” I stuttered.
“Shhh,” she whispered in my ear. Her hand ran over the back of my head, trying to soothe away my fear. “You get on that plane. Get to him. And when you see him…you tell him that you got on a plane for him. He’ll wake up from shock alone.”
A smile tried to break through my fear, but it didn’t quite make it. “I love you, Sarah.”
“I love you too, Jillian.” She squeezed me tight before I moved toward the scary, empty security line…alone.
Security didn’t prove to be as daunting as I’d expected, at least not this late at night. I slipped my flip-flops back onto my feet and grabbed my belongings from the conveyer belt.
I found the gate for my flight easily and plopped down in a seat near a window. A couple of planes were docked at nearby gates. I stared at them, feeling my pulse quicken with each passing second. Two hours separated me and my inaugural flight. Six hours separated me from Griffin.
The gate was quiet. Eerily quiet. The only sign of life I’d seen since I’d sat down was a maintenance person polishing the tile. For the next two hours my mind raced from one terrible scenario to the next. Stretching out across several seats, I closed my eyes and forced myself to picture Griffin’s smile…the feel of his hand in mine…the sound of his voice whispering in my ear…any positive memories I could cling to.
“We are now boarding all passengers for Delta Air Lines Flight 1619 to St. Louis.”
The voice on the PA system boomed, and I started at the sound. I hurriedly checked my boarding pass for my flight number. The numbers 0307 were printed at the top of the ticket. My flight was now boarding.
I dug my phone out and sent Ren a quick text: I’m boarding the plane now. If you have any info, text me. I’ll check my messages the second I land.
Before I powered my phone down for the next four hours, I had one more text to send. I found Griffin’s name and typed, I love you. I’m coming home.
* * *
The hospital doors parted, allowing me entrance. I lugged my suitcase behind me, searching the waiting room for Ren or Griffin’s parents. My eyes were so tired and sore from sleep deprivation and crying they barely functioned.
“Jillian! Over here,” Ren called from the very back of the room.
I summoned whatever energy I had left and ran to her. She held her arms open wide and I fell into them. Ren’s arms wrapped around me, and we both held squeezed tightly, praying the other had a reserve of strength to share. “You made it,” she exhaled.
I pulled back; I needed to see her face. She looked beaten, tired, and lost. “How is he?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. She brought her hand up to her mouth and chewed on her thumbnail. “He’s still in surgery.”
“Still?” I whined. “How long has he been in there?”
“It’s going on seven hours now,” she choked. “Let’s sit down.” Ren pulled me over to an empty chair and I collapsed. “You look tired. Why don’t you try to get some rest?” She offered.
I stared into her brown eyes. “No, I can’t sleep. Not until we hear something.” I shook my head defiantly. “Where are your mom and dad?” I asked.
“They’re coming. They were in Phoenix, remember?” She continued to bite at her thumb, a nervous habit.
Shit, I’d forgotten they’d left after Christmas. “When are they supposed to get in?”
“I don’t know. Mom said she’d call me the second they landed.”
I sat back in the chair feeling completely useless. There was nothing I could do now but wait. I looked at Ren again. “Do you know what happened?” I asked.
“When I talked to the paramedics, they said another motorist called in the accident when they came upon it. No one knows for sure.” Ren stopped, getting choked up. I put my arm around her. She wiped her eyes and steeled her will to finish the story. “The only thing the paramedics could deduce from the scene was that Griffin had lost control of his bike on the wet pavement. They found him lying five feet away from the motorcycle.”
My hand covered my mouth. “But he was wearing his helmet, right?”
Ren nodded. She’d told me earlier that Griffin had worn the helmet, but I just needed to hear it again. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was so glad I hadn’t backed down about that damn thing.
Ren and I sat next to each other for a while, but eventually fatigue took over, and I needed to lie dow
n. Like I had at the airport, I stretched my body across several chairs.
Ren sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Her eyes were closed, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. Every time the automatic doors opened, her eyelids shot up, anticipating the arrival of her parents, or word from the doctor.
“Ren,” I whispered. “Why do you think it’s taking so long?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, sounding defeated.
There was really nothing more to talk about. All we could do was “hurry up and wait.” I popped in my earbuds, craving Griffin’s voice. I scrolled through my songs, looking for one in particular—my song—“About Time”. I set it on repeat and closed my heavy eyelids. Sleep finally pulled me under.
* * *
“Jillian. Wake up, Jillian,” a quiet voice said.
“Hmm?” I shifted and lost my balance, falling off the seats. “Ouch!” I cried out, blinking my eyes open. “Damn, that hurt.” I rubbed my shoulder and bit my tongue, staving off the other curse words that threatened to spill out.
“Jillian,” Mrs. Daniels and Ren both exclaimed “Are you all right?” Mrs. Daniels was crouched down beside me with a shocked expression on her face. Ren stood beside her.
“Mrs. Daniels?” I asked, confused and disoriented.
Her arms went around my back, trying to help me off the floor. Ren tried to help us both up. “You took a nasty spill off those chairs. Are you all right?” Mrs. Daniels asked.
I stood up and looked at the chairs.
Hospital.
I was still at the hospital. Griffin.
My brain played connect-the-dots as it regained clarity. “Is he okay?” I prayed I hadn’t missed any news.
Mrs. Daniels shook her head, pulling me into a hug. She rocked me in her arms as she spoke. “No word yet. Bill went to track down someone.”
Bill. Griffin’s dad. He’d find some answers. After being a high school football coach for twenty-five years, he’d mastered the art of intimidation.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Jillian?” Ren asked.
I nodded my head and pulled out of Mrs. Daniels’s embrace. “I’m fine.”
Ren flashed a weak smile and said, “I’m going to go sit back down. You okay, Ma?” Ren sounded like Griffin when she called her mother by that name. Griffin always called her that.
“I’m good.” She patted her daughter’s hand.
Mrs. Daniels and I sat down while Ren went back to her spot on the floor. “When did you get here?” I asked.
“Just a few minutes ago,” she sighed. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know.” My heart was racing again, and I couldn’t slow it down. “I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I don’t know anything.” I was so overwhelmed.
“I know you’re scared, sweetie. We all are.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, comforting me like a mom. “But, if I know my son,” she went on, “you’re the only person that’s keeping him alive right now.”
“Me?” My voice cracked.
She offered me a reassuring smile. “Absolutely,” she said confidently. “That boy loves you something fierce. Always has.”
I lay my head on her shoulder and said, “I love him, too.”
“I always knew you did.” She hugged me tightly, and I felt safe in her arms. But the reality of the situation weighed on my heart. “What if—”
“Nonsense,” she interrupted. “He’s going to pull out of this. I know my son.” Her answer was emphatic. “He’s strong. He loves you. He loves us. He’s going to make it.”
Mrs. Daniels was right; Griffin’s strength did come from his unconditional love. He had never given up on me. I wouldn’t give up on him now. The images of Griffin’s tattoos popped into my head—Always hopes. Always perseveres.
I’ll hope. I’ll persevere.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mr. Daniels came into the waiting room and shook his head. “All these smartass doctors and none of them know a goddamned thing,” he growled.
I could tell he’d been reading someone the riot act; his red face and labored breathing were telltale signs of a Bill Daniels ass-chewing.
“Bill,” Mrs. Daniels said, her voice thick with concern.
Mr. Daniels lumbered over to his wife and sat down. He put his arm around her and she collapsed against his shoulder. Her brave front had disappeared the second she saw her husband.
“Daddy,” Ren cried. She stood up from the floor and ran to his side. He stretched his other arm around Ren and supported both of the women in his life. What was it like for him? He didn’t know if his son was alive or dead, yet he still remained the pillar of strength for the Daniels family.
Mrs. Daniels slipped her arm around me and spoke softly, “He knows his family’s here for him.” I didn’t know if she was speaking to us, or if she was trying to vocalize reassurances for her own sake, but regardless of her motivations, I felt stronger knowing I was considered a part of their family.
“Mr. Daniels?”
A white-haired man with a dark tan and a white coat walked into the waiting room. Instantly, the four of us were on our feet.
“Yes, that’s me,” Mr. Daniels said gruffly, swallowing back his fear.
“You’re Griffin Daniels’s parents?” the doctor said, looking to Mr. and Mrs. Daniels.
“Yes. Please, is he okay?” Mrs. Daniels stuttered.
“I’m Dr. Adler, Chief Neurosurgeon.” He held his hand out for Mr. Daniels to shake. Griffin’s dad took the doctor’s hand in his firm grip. “Griffin just came out of surgery. He’s in recovery now,” Dr. Adler announced.
“So he’s okay?” Ren asked, holding her breath.
Dr. Adler looked at Ren and said, “He’s alive, but not out of the woods.”
“What do you mean?” I interjected. “Is he going to be okay?” Impatience permeated my voice. Why couldn’t doctors just spit out what they meant?
“Griffin suffered a severe head trauma when he was thrown from his motorcycle. Luckily, he was wearing a helmet; it saved his life.”
When I heard those words, I gasped. My insistence had saved his life. Tears stung my eyes and I bit my lip to keep from crying. I tried to focus my attention on what Dr. Adler was saying.
“However, when his body hit the ground the impact was extreme, and his brain was severely jostled. Blood vessels ruptured, causing swelling to the brain, and surgery was needed to alleviate the pressure. Right now, we have him in a medically induced coma until the swelling goes down. In a few days, we’ll gradually reduce the amount of medication he’s receiving. Once he’s off of the IV, we wait to see if he regains consciousness. Even though the initial brain scans we’ve taken are promising, we won’t know if there is any permanent damage until he wakes up.”
I didn’t understand most of what Dr. Adler had said. My brain kept sticking on the word “coma.” The more Dr. Adler talked, the harder it was to focus my thoughts. All I wanted at this point was to see him. If he knew I was here, he’d be all right. “Can we see him?” I asked.
Dr. Adler looked at me and smiled. “Soon. I’ll send a nurse to escort you to his room once he’s out of recovery.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Mr. Daniels said, offering his hand again.
Dr. Adler’s lips pulled into a tight smile and he shook Mr. Daniels’s hand. “We’re doing everything we can,” Dr. Adler promised before he turned to leave us to wait again.
“He’s going to be fine, girls. He’s going to be fine.” Mr. Daniels held his hands open wide. Ren and Mrs. Daniels stepped into his mammoth arms, and each woman cried on a shoulder. “Get over here, Jillian. I need all of my girls if I’m going to get through this.” Mr. Daniels waved me over.
Tears streamed down my face as I took two big steps and pressed myself against Griffin’s dad. I laid my head on his heart and he closed his arms around “his girls.” I was sandwiched between Ren and Mrs. Daniels, barely able to breathe, but I didn’t care. Gri
ffin was a part of each one of them. Being caught in the middle of his family was like being caught in one of his all-consuming hugs. All of them gave me strength.
* * *
It seemed like Griffin was in recovery forever. A nurse would periodically update us on Griffin’s status, but it was always the same: “His vitals are strong.” After five hourly visits, a nurse returned with what we all expected to be the usual statement.
“Still no changes?” I asked, having no energy to get up off the floor.
“No, not yet. But…”
The moment she said “but” I lifted my head. “But” was good. “But” was new. “But” was an improvement.
“He’s been moved to his room in ICU,” she continued. “I’m here to take you up.”
That was all I needed to hear. I was off the floor in a hurry. “Yes, let’s go,” I said urgently.
Griffin’s family and I followed the nurse down several corridors and into the ICU. A couple of nurses looked up from their computer screens and gave us tight-lipped smiles as we passed by. When we came to Griffin’s door, the nurse stopped and rested her hand on the handle. She turned around with a grim look on her face.
“Before we go in, I have to warn you. He’s suffered a lot of injuries. He’s got quite a few lacerations and contusions on his face. There’s also a significant amount of swelling. The right side of his head has been shaved and bandaged. Try to keep a positive outlook. Talk to him. Touch him. Let him know you’re here. That’s the best thing you can do for him now.” She smiled somberly and pushed the handle down.
Griffin’s room was dimly lit. An occasional beep echoed through the silence from the machines monitoring his vitals. I was anxious to see him but scared as hell. Griffin was the strong one; he’d been the one protecting me from all the bad shit. I didn’t have a fraction of his strength, and I worried I wouldn’t be strong enough.
Silent tears rolled down my cheeks when my eyes finally adjusted to the quiet light. My strong Griffin lay motionless on the bed. His chest rose and fell as the machine attached to him commanded. Despite the nurse’s warning, I wasn’t prepared to see him like this.