What the hell am I supposed to do?
I call Becca again. No answer. I call Park. Still no answer. They’re probably together, making out and loving their life without a damn care in the world that my husband might be a piece of roadkill right now. I hate them. I hate my mother. I hate everyone.
With my teeth gritted, I take care of Jett. I get him a new diaper and a new set of pajamas. I kiss him on the forehead and tell him everything will be okay, even though I’m really trying to convince myself. He looks so peaceful and happy. He has no idea what’s going on. I wish I could be like him.
He falls asleep a few seconds later and I head to the spare bedroom where we keep all the baby stuff I’ve bought but haven’t unpacked yet. I find the massive diaper bag that I planned to use if we took a vacation. I fill it with everything. Diapers, wipes, food, pacifiers, baby clothes. I toss in a box of granola bars and grab some cash from the jar in the kitchen.
Then, I stare at the car seat.
The massive contraption is top of the line. Jace insisted on it. There’s a base that fits into the car and this thing is supposed to snap into it. Jace said it would be easy. I’m going to have to trust him.
The car seat weighs a ton and he’s just a tiny baby. Man, I’ve gotten out of shape in the few months I was pregnant. My breathing is ragged as I carry him down the stairs slowly and carefully. I keep picturing myself tripping and sending Jett flying down a set of concrete stairs to his death. I shake the image away and keep walking.
It feels like hours later when I get him to my car. Like magic, the seat snaps into place and doesn’t wiggle. Jace is always right about these things. He’d said it would be easy and it was.
Carefully, I hold back my tears long enough to buckle Jett inside the car seat. The straps seem a million times too big for his tiny little body, so I wrap them in a soft blanket to make sure it doesn’t hurt him. He stays asleep for the most part.
A fresh set of tears pour out of me as I start my car. Deep down I know I probably shouldn’t be driving. Surely my mental state is worse than that of someone who just drank ten margaritas. But no one else will answer their phone and besides, everyone lives too damn far away. I have to get to the hospital now.
I wipe the tears out of my eyes and then I put the car in reverse. And I drive.
Chapter 10
When I arrive at the hospital a creepy feeling of déjà vu sends a chill up my spine.
Should we go in the emergency room?
I don’t know. Is this an emergency?
Just five nights ago I was here with Jace. We were two people, expecting to leave home with a third. Now Jett and I are those two people. And if we don’t go home with Jace I don’t know what I’ll do.
I park in the ER parking lot. Jett sleeps peacefully as I take his car seat out of the base. I drape a blanket over the entire thing and tuck in into the sides. Emergency rooms are full of sick people and I don’t want Jett to get those germs. I’m pretty sure that a baby blanket isn’t exactly known for being germ proof but it’s all I have.
The entire emergency room is empty when I walk in. I glance around at the rows and rows of chairs and find them all empty. A television on the wall blares some news station and a set of kid’s toys lies forgotten in the corner. I guess it’s not a popular night for emergencies.
The woman at the triage counter barely glances up at me when I walk up to her. Then she notices the car seat I’m carrying and her brows draw together. She reaches for a clipboard of paperwork but I shake my head and open my mouth and try to speak even though it’s so dry I fear no words will come out.
“I think my husband is here,” I manage to say.
“Name?”
“Jace Adams.”
There’s no immediate reaction on her face. I had worried that she’d hear Jace’s name and her eyes would light up and she’d say something like ‘oh, you’re here for the morgue, then’ and then I’d be so devastated that I’d drop dead right here on the emergency room floor.
But she doesn’t say anything for a moment. She looks at the computer screen in front of her. “Do you know what floor he’s on?”
“I’m not even sure he’s here.” Again, it’s a miracle that words are coming out of my mouth. And if they make sense, then it’ll be a double miracle. Because the only thing going through my head right now is the constant chant of please be alive please be alive please be alive.
“I don’t see anyone by that name,” she says slowly as she clicks through the computer. “Would it be under another name? When did they call you?”
“No one has called me. I—he got in a wreck, I’m just guessing he might be here, I don’t—I don’t know.” All of the air has been let out of me.
Another nurse in Hello Kitty scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck comes up and nudges the woman. She murmurs something and then widens her eyes as if she’s trying to communicate telepathically to the woman.
“Oh.” That’s all the woman says. Then she turns to me. “Okay so your husband was in a wreck and you’re wondering if he’s here? No one has called you yet?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t come home from work and then a tow truck dumped off his mangled truck and the guy said he was in a wreck near Mixon. No one has told me a damn thing, lady. I’m wondering if he’s here. Will you please just tell me if he’s here.”
She glances at the car seat again and then looks up at me. “Can I have your ID please?”
“What the hell does that matter?” I throw up the one hand that isn’t holding the car seat. “Is he here? Is he alive?” Oh God, the tears are coming again. “Just tell me something please.”
The Hello Kitty lady nudges the other woman on the shoulder and gives her another eye look. “It’s not breaking HIPAA, just do it.”
She sighs. “We have one John Doe here. I don’t know if it’s your husband and I can’t tell you anything else. He is alive.”
Those last three words almost knock me off my feet. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Ugh. And then I’m crying again. But they’re tears of mostly happiness, so that’s a slight improvement. I clear my throat and smile at the woman. I know that niceness will get me many more places than being a bitch will. “Why is he a John Doe? Did he just get here? Can’t you find his driver’s license and then I can show you mine and prove I’m his wife and then you can let me back to see him? Please? I’m dying here without knowing if he’s okay.”
“They couldn’t find an ID on him and the last I heard, they can’t find a cell phone either. That’s not uncommon in car wrecks since phones tend to go flying somewhere or they get broken. We’ll get it sorted out it just might take a while.”
“Can’t you just ask for his social security number or something?”
That’s when her face changes. I can tell she’s wrestling with herself and if she should tell me or not. Damn those stupid hospital patient privacy acts. Finally, she says, “I’m not certain what’s going on, but I think maybe he’s unconscious so maybe, I’m not saying that’s what it is, but maybe that’s why he can’t personally identify himself.”
The lump in my throat is about to close off my airway. I stare at the floor for a moment. Unconscious isn’t the worst thing in the world. He’s been knocked out before. He always acts like it’s not a big deal. I force myself to smile. “Okay then. Unconscious will be conscious soon enough. I’ll just have a seat and wait for him to wake up and ask for me.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Well, honey that might take a while. You can leave your name and phone number with me, though and I’ll be happy to—”
“No.” I walk over to the row of chairs, the same row I sat in last time Jace was in the hospital. “I’ll be right here when you need me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 11
Two Days Later, December 29th
The Christmas decorations have been taken down, shuffled into boxes and put away for next year. At home, I know the tiny little lights are still
strung up around our living room, probably still glowing for all I know. I don’t remember turning them off. I don’t even remember if I locked the door.
Now, the hospital workers, dressed in black dress pants and a white button up shirt to distinguish them as regular employees and not nurses or doctors take out black and gold banners and stars to hang in the cafeteria. It’s almost New Year’s Day.
And my husband still hasn’t woken up.
I take a plastic tray from the buffet line and fill it up with enough breakfast food for three people. I get muffins and eggs and bacon and two cups of coffee. The woman at the cash register is the same one from the last two days but she doesn’t acknowledge me when I hand her my debit card. I guess she doesn’t care if hospital guests have to stay multiple days. I probably wouldn’t either if I were in her position.
With the food still on the tray, I take it out to the elevator and up to the third floor to Jace’s private room. It’s right next to the nurses’ station so we get prime attention from them.
Jace’s mom Julie smiles at me from her position on the recliner in the corner of the room. She’s holding Jett, feeding him from a bottle and petting the top of his little baby head. I set the food down on the table and grab the muffin and a cup of coffee. I’ve never needed coffee more in my life.
“He’s such a precious little boy,” Julie says. She says it while I’m watching Jace, who is the center of attention in the middle of the room so at first I think she’s talking about her son. But when I glance back at her, she’s talking to Jett. “He looks so much like Jace did as a baby.”
I draw in a deep breath. Yeah I get it. The baby is cute. Why are we still pointing that out? The real situation here, the only thing worth talking about, is the man lying in a coma right in front of me.
After he was identified and I could prove that I was his wife, I mean—am his wife, when I could prove that I AM his wife, I was allowed back to see him. Jace was hit by a drunk driver. As in all cases of irony such as this, the driver, the worthless douchebag who chose to get wasted and then step behind the wheel, walked away without a problem. I’ve been told that douchebag’s Jeep was damaged pretty badly, but that brings me no justice.
Jace suffered three broken ribs, a broken femur, collar bone, wrist, and jaw. All on the left side of his body. The biggest fear—brain damage or internal bleeding—was put to bed after some scans and tests. But he was knocked out so badly that he hasn’t woken up yet.
And here’s the thing. They won’t tell me when he’ll wake up.
With all the technology they have today, they can’t tell me that one thing.
Jace’s dad Gary comes back into the room with a newspaper in his hand. Apparently he has to read them every day even though all of that same information can be found online quicker and for free. He thanks me for the breakfast and dives into the coffee and eggs.
Funny, how the last time I called Jace’s mom to tell her he was in the hospital, she’d only laughed and said it wasn’t a big surprise to her. This time, I guess the tone of my voice let her know something was wrong before I could even explain it all. They took the first flight here.
My mom and Becca and Park have been vising often, but not for long because the doctors don’t want him to have much company. At first, I had wanted it to be just Jett and me in here with him, but having his parents here have been a real help. Especially with Jett.
I mean, I never wanted to be a bad mother but I’m having a hard time concentrating at the moment. I still feed him most of the time and I change all of his diapers, but I can’t really focus on the task. Luckily, I’m not sure anyone has noticed. Julie has been totally in love with Jett since the moment she saw him and she’s been begging to play with him so much that I think the situation is mutually beneficial for both of us. She gets lots of time with her grandson, and I get a break.
During my breaks I either go down and get food, go to the bathroom, or do what I’m usually doing—sitting next to Jace. Due to his injuries, they won’t let me crawl into bed with him, although I’ve definitely tried. Instead, I’ve dragged a chair up as close as possible to the left of the bed where his good side is and then I sit cross-legged in it and lean my head against the mattress.
Jace, my Jace, doesn’t look like himself. His head is all swollen and bruised. There’s six staples across his scalp and two stitches on his bottom lip. His right side is all mangled and bandaged, casted and stitched. His left arm is almost completely perfect. That’s the arm I hold onto, the arm I rest my head on at night.
It’s the same hand I hold when we’re driving in his truck and I sit in the middle seat.
What am I supposed to do without him?
Every time the dark thoughts of life without Jace slip into my mind, I wonder what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to survive. And the only answer I can come up with? Wishing I could ask Jace. He would know what to do. He would have the right words to say.
But he’s not talking.
Chapter 12
December 30th
“Hey. You can wake up, you know.” I sit up, glance around the room to make sure we’re the only ones in here. We are. Everyone went to get lunch and the only other sound in the room is the steady beeping of the machines hooked up to Jace.
I lean in again, running my fingers across his hair and down the side of his face. “Babe,” I whisper. “It’s time for you to wake up.”
I watch his eyes, expecting a twitch. Then I stare at his lips, all dried and unmoving, hoping that they will form a smile and begin to talk to me.
Nothing happens.
The doctors have said that Jace’s injuries will all be healed with time. That it will be months before he’s cleared to ride a dirt bike again, but that he should one day be exactly the same as always, minus a few grisly scars. The only thing he has to do now is wake up.
And he’s being so freaking stubborn.
I’ve wasted away many hours at his hospital bed, searching coma stories on the internet and reading about how they think it’s good to talk to people in comas because they can probably hear you. And you have to have the hope that they can, right? Otherwise it’s just pointless.
I take out my phone and open it to Jace’s favorite news app and begin reading him the news. He’s always reading the news while he eats breakfast before work so I figure he’ll appreciate my effort to keep him informed. “So that McDonald’s by our house is gone now,” I say, making up the words as I go along because the news app is taking forever to load. “Yep. It burned to the ground. The owner came on the news and said he took it as a sign that Mixon needs more healthy options so instead of rebuilding it, he’s going to put in a salad store.”
I watch Jace’s face for any signs of movement. But when he’s still just as quiet and unmoving as he’s been all week, I know he hadn’t heard me talking. Jace would be pissed if the McDonald’s went away and he hates salads. Good thing I was just making up that story. McDonald’s does sound good, though. I’ve hardly eaten all week but when I do find time to eat, it’s something from the café on the first floor. Hospital food isn’t as bad as school cafeteria food but it’s pretty close. I would kill for a double cheeseburger right about now.
I lean forward, putting my elbows on the bed and resting my phone on Jace’s bicep while I read him the actual news. I used to think I couldn’t get enough of this boy, of being close to him and near him at all times—but I was wrong. I had no idea how lucky I had it back then. Now I really can’t get enough of him. Being able to touch someone who doesn’t respond in any way takes an emotional toll on a person.
I’ve never been so worn out in my entire life. From breastfeeding to sleeping on a cot in the middle of a hospital room, cuddling Jett in my arms and waking up every two hours for him, to spending every other second next to Jace watching him and talking to him, my body is worn out. I haven’t been drinking water because I’ve been too afraid to pee and miss out on Jace waking up. I can tell everyone thinks I’m craz
y but at this point I really don’t give a damn.
Julie sets her knitting down in the chair next to her and gets up, walking over to my side. I’ve pulled my chair as close to the hospital bed as possible and now Jett is sleeping against my chest as I lean my head on the mattress and watch daytime television on the TV that hangs from the ceiling.
Her arm touches my shoulder and she smiles, but it’s that kind of smile that almost looks like she’s mad at me. “Bayleigh, do you think you could step into the hallway with me for a minute?”
My eyes get wide and I glance back at Jace, half expecting him to wake him and tell her that he doesn’t want me to leave. Of course he doesn’t. “Why?” I ask, bringing Jett closer to my body.
“I just wanted to chat.” She briefly glances toward the other side of the room where Becca and Park are playing a game of Uno and eating some of the pizza they brought us for lunch. “You know, privately.”
“Guys, can you leave for a minute?” I ask my friends.
Jace’s mom waves her hand and says, “No, no that’s fine. Bayleigh and I will step outside. Y’all can keep eating.”
Becca gives me a single look and in that split second I know she’s telling me that she will only listen to me. “Go, please,” I tell her. They leave the Uno cards on a table and get to up leave, Park taking an extra slice with him for the walk to the hallway.
When we’re alone, with the hospital door closed behind him, I glance up at her. “What’s up?” I’m not an idiot. I can tell she’s concerned about something, maybe even about to yell at me, but I keep my voice light.
She sighs. “Bayleigh, honey. I love you so much and I hope you know that.”
“I love you, too,” I say, still with the light tone in my voice.
Her lips flatten together and she watches me with the saddest look in her eyes. “Honey, I think you need to go home. Just for a little bit.”
Winter Wonderful (Summer Unplugged Book 7) Page 4