Ripping Pages

by Rae, Rachel

  I kept looking at his hands, his feet, his eyes, for any sign that he was waking up. I knew this wasn’t a movie, but everything that happened between us felt so surreal that I was sure he would wake up for me. As I stood there, hopeful, I realized that’s all I was, hopeful. He wasn’t going to wake up just because I had asked him to. He just laid there. I sat down, and was still caressing his hand like he’d caressed me so many times before. I was willing him to wake up. I stared at his hand that I held in mine thinking that I’d felt movement under my fingers, but nothing. I scooted the chair closer and laid my head next to his, trying to breathe in that Van scent, but I couldn’t find it. He smelled like medicine, and hospital, and sick Van. Not the Van that I had fallen in love with.

  Oh, God, Van, please come back to me.

  I fell asleep still holding his hand and breathing the same air as him.

  I was awakened by Sloan and her parents coming into the room the next day. I startled, and wiped the drool from the pillow beside Van’s head. I stood up. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  Sloan and her mother, and even Mr. Whitaker, smiled at me and patted my shoulder as I walked past them. Mr. Whitaker stopped me as I reached the door,. “Tinley, I know how much my son loves you. He does a lot of stupid things, just like his old man. But please, don’t let that stop you from loving him. He’s been through a lot. Just please don’t give up on him. I haven’t seen him as happy as he was when he was with you since, Sarah.”

  I smiled as I gave him a hug. “I won’t, sir.”

  He chuckled, “Sir? I’m not that old.”

  “No, you’re not. Sorry, my southern roots. It’s a habit.” I grinned.

  “I like you.”

  “Well, I like you, too, Mr. Whitaker.”

  “Sam, please.”

  “Sam.” I gave his mother and Sloan hugs, and then I kissed his nose and forehead and whispered to him again, as I grasped his hand, “I’ll be back, baby. Please wake up for me.” I kissed him once more and left for the hotel.

  Once I was out of the ICU unit, I walked toward the exit and noticed the huge mob of people holding candles blocked off to the side of the walkway.

  The sight of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people all there holding vigil for their beloved rock god was an amazing sight, and it reminded me how legendary he really was. It was hard to come to terms with that since I knew the REAL Van.

  I made my way out the back exit and across the street to the hotel and up to my suite.

  Shit, I realized that my phone had died after I last texted my mom. Oh, James was probably worried and livid.

  I quickly found my suitcase, which was on the ground next to the bed and found my charger. Crap! Was I supposed to have an adapter? I had never been out of the country before, let alone to a European country. I started to panic. I wasn’t sure which room anyone was in, and now I didn’t have my cell to find out. I calmed my frazzled self down and called the front desk.

  The woman on the other end of the line told me they had complimentary adapters for their American guests, so she was sending one to my suite. I breathed a sigh of relief as I placed the phone back in its cradle. A few minutes later, there came a knock on the door.

  I opened it, and an older British man smiled and handed me the adapter for my charger.

  “Thank you so, so much.”

  “My pleasure. Will there be anything else, ma’am.” His accent rolled the words around in a way that made me smile.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Very well.” He bowed and left toward the elevator.

  I figured out how to work the adapter, and I let my phone charge while I took a shower.

  When I got out my phone had already powered back on, and there were tons of voicemails and text messages.

  Several from mom asking about Van and wanting to know if I needed her. About twenty were from Tatum saying she had another shoot, but would be on her way this evening.

  The rest were from James.

  I had been so shitty to James, leaving like that and not even picking up the phone to speak to him.

  His messages weren’t desperate, more like concerned and confused, and a little pissed off. I couldn’t blame him, and I instantly felt like such an indecisive weak bitch.

  I was a little apprehensive to call him back so I called mom and Tatum, who was already in the air, and gave them both an update. They couldn’t believe that Van was in a coma. I guess the band’s label hadn’t made that statement to the public yet.

  Once I hung up with them, I slowly clicked James’ number from my contact list, and my heart started beating faster and faster with each ring.

  “Tin?” His deep voice laced with worry, resonated through the speaker and I jumped.

  “Hey babe. I—I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

  He sighed. “What the fuck, baby. You scared the shit out of me. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or text me back?”

  “I’m sorry. It was so crazy right when we got off the plane and then I didn’t even realize my phone was dead. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “So, how is he? I saw the news, but they don’t really have much information.”

  And cue the tears—again. I tried to hold back my blubbering with James on the phone, because he just wouldn’t understand. “Well, his surgery went well. But he hasn’t woken up. He’s—he’s in a coma.” I couldn’t help the sobbing mess I became all of the sudden.

  James was eerily quiet on the other end.

  Finally, once I got a hold of my emotions and shut myself up, I pulled the phone back away from my ear to look at the screen. The timer was still going, but James hadn’t said a word. I timidly asked, “J—James? Are you still there?”

  After a few moments, he spoke, “I’m still here.”

  Ok? What was going on in that head of his? “What are you thinking, James. Talk to me.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I get it. He’s been shot, and you needed to go to him for Sloan or what have you, but what am I supposed to think, Tin? You don’t call me. You don’t pick up the phone. You don’t even have the decency to email me. You flew half way around the world, and I don’t hear from you. I just don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  I decided to be honest. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, either, James. I love you so much, but I also love Van, and I don’t know what to do with all these mixed up emotions I have. He’s not even conscious, and I should still be mad at him for everything, but I can only think about him not waking up, and everything else seems so unimportant.”

  “Unimportant,” he repeated the word back to me like he was trying to understand the meaning of it. “I see. Ok. Well, I have to go. I’m at work.”

  Fuck!

  “James, I—”

  “It’s cool, Tinley. I’ll talk to you later.”

  And with that, he abruptly hung up the phone.

  What the hell just happened?

  I tried calling him back but he ignored my calls, sending them straight to voicemail. I texted him and said, “I’m sorry. Please. That’s not what I meant.” But he didn’t respond.

  Someone knocked on my door.

  I went to open it, and I saw Tatum standing there with her Louis Vuitton luggage on a cart with the same bellhop who brought me my charger. The minute she saw me she came in for a huge hug. “Oh, Tin. How is that sexy man? How are you holding up?”

  “He’s still not awake.” I shrugged as she tipped the bellhop after he brought her bags inside and set them next to the bed.

  Crap was I supposed to tip him earlier? Gosh, my mind was running a million miles a minute.

  “I just talked to Sloan and she told me you were here, and where to find you. Are you going back over there?”

  “Yeah, I need to shower first. I just got off the phone with James.”

  “Oh, God. How did that go over? He was a complete mess when he woke up and found your note.”

  I bit my lip
, feeling like shit for the billionth time since James had come back into my life.

  “I know. I hate this. I feel so lost.”

  “I know, girl. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thanks, Tate. There’s nothing you can say. I have to figure it out on my own.”

  I showered and we left our suite and met with Chris, the band’s main security guard, in the lobby. He was a big burly wall of a man. He escorted us to the back entrance of the hospital and up to Van’s new private VIP room on the top floor. The room was filled to the brim with letters, flower bouquets, and stuffed animals all from devoted fans. Sloan, her parents, and the band and crew were all there in the room’s own waiting room. The somber faces told me all I needed to know. Van hadn’t woken up yet.

  Six days went by and no change in Van. Doctors were constantly running tests to monitor his brain function. They said that there had been no change, and we were going to have to start talking about other options. I had been in London for almost a week with everyone. The news and media were everywhere reporting on Van’s condition. I was forced to go back to my hotel room for rest. So I sat up watching television since there was no way I could sleep. Every entertainment station was running specials about Van and his life and how he came to be lead singer of Ripping Pages. They talked about his childhood and showed interviews, one that had been taped the night he broke up with me. He smiled that heartbreaking smile as they asked him about his personal life. He looked straight at the camera and said, “I have a gorgeous girl. She’s my Sweetness, my world.” The woman interviewing him gushed and oohed and ahhed at that. He just smirked and smiled again—at me. I could feel him. He meant that. At least, he meant it then.

  I instantly felt like an idiot for flying all the way to London. What if he woke up and wondered what the hell I was doing there? What if he told me to get the fuck out as he did before? What if he didn’t say anything at all? I mean, I hadn’t heard from him since I told him off. If he truly wanted me, wouldn’t he have come for me, or contacted me, somehow? If he meant what he said. After all that I had told him about the baby, as hateful as I was, and he was in the wrong, so why didn’t he come for me? Gosh, I was a fool. I came here for Sloan, and I came here to tell him I was sorry, but what if he didn’t want to hear what I had to say. What if he didn’t want to see my face at all?

  I hadn’t spoken to James. He did finally answer my text, but was short.

  He was angry, and I really couldn’t blame him, but he had to understand the reasoning behind me going to London. This wasn’t just some fling. I carried the man’s child for 2 months. I couldn’t forget that. We were connected in a way James and I never could be.

  It had been a week and a day since Van slipped into a coma. I had several private conversations with him while he lay there unconscious. I prayed for him to wake up, and I whispered in his ear that I loved him over and over again. Still nothing.

  Tatum had gone home a few days before. She had re-shoots for the catalog. I hugged her goodbye, and she left for home. I hadn’t been to see mom and Steve. They were too far from the hospital, and I didn’t want to be that far from Van.

  They didn’t want to disturb the family, so they sent flowers and said they were praying for him.

  Ten days after the shooting, everyone was at the hotel sleeping, and I was with Van in his hospital room. I was holding his hand and watching Dumb and Dumber on the TV. It brought that first night back in his apartment back. The memories came flooding in, and I couldn’t control the sobs that wracked me. He wasn’t going to wake up, was he? God what would I do?

  I laid my head on his chest and cried as I remembered every single detail of US—the time he caught me snooping. The time he was shit faced drunk in front of the café, our first kiss, the charm bracelet (which I had been wearing every day and never took off.) When he told me he loved me, the gala, the limo, the day I told him I was carrying our baby, our first thanksgiving, the way he always made me feel like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The way he kissed me. The way he smelled, like Zest soap and Man. The way he gobbled up a huge bowl of cereal. Just the way he was. Van. My tears flowed down to his face, and I leaned back to wipe the pool of saline off his cheek. I smiled as I remembered everything. I kissed his nose and then his forehead, which had become “our” thing.

  Just as I was about to turn and walk away for the night, his eyes started to move underneath his eyelids. His fingers started twitching and moving slowly. I pressed the call button for the nurse, just as Van slowly opened his eyes. It took him a while to regain full sight as he took in his surroundings. The nurses came in. They took the tube out of his throat and made him take some sips of water and they started to do some tests. When it was all said and done, they left to get the doctor to come run some of his own tests, leaving Van and I alone. It took him a few minutes to compose himself. When the nurses had asked him the simple questions, he’d done well. He knew who he was. He knew what year it was. He didn’t remember anything about the shooting.

  He slowly turned his head just a little, and looked at me.

  He looked confused.

  “Tinley? W—” He grabbed his glass of water, not breaking eye contact with me as he drank it slowly to quench his parched mouth. When he was done, he sat the cup down on the rolling tray, and started again.

  “What are you doing here?” He didn’t ask it rudely, more surprised than anything.

  I walked over to him and stood next to the bed.

  “I’ve been here since last week. I came as soon as I heard. I came with Sloan and your parents.”

  He nodded taking it all in. He never did stop staring at me. He appraised me from top to bottom, and then that ridiculously hot smirk of his that I’d missed more than I realized, made its way across those sexy lips, and his face turned smug. “Well, you look good, Sweetness. I’m glad you’re here.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. He motioned for me to come closer. “I want to tell you something, Sweetness.” I leaned in ready to hear it, and he placed a gentle kiss to my nose and my forehead. Leaving his lips at the top of my head he whispered, “I love you. I’m so sorry, baby. For everything. Please forgive me.”

  Before I could say anything back to him, the doctor came in, and I jumped back feeling like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Van chuckled, and listened as the doctor ran his own set of tests and gave him a run through of all the events that had occurred since the day of the shooting. He stared at the doctor in horror as the events unfolded before us in the room. I realized that I failed to call anyone to let them know that Van was awake.

  I called Sloan who screamed with joy and said she’d let her parents know. I then called Jensen who sounded like a little kid excited about a new puppy. He told me he would get the band and crew together, and head over. I called my mother and Tatum, who were so relieved about the news and lastly, I called James. He finally picked up the phone.

  “Tin? Everything ok?” He sounded more like the James from the night before I left for London. He wasn’t cold and distant.

  “Hey. Yeah, everything is ok. Van is awake.”

  Silence on the other end of the line. Finally, he broke it. “Well, that’s good news. Let me know if you need anything.” There was the cold and distant James.

  I frowned at the phone. What did I expect? Him to jump for joy? I guess I was being an idiot, as usual. I told him goodbye, and instinctively said “I love you” as I hung up the phone. He didn’t say it back, and that hurt. I knew I was hurting him too, but I still loved him, regardless.

  Everyone gathered around Van, and we talked, and everyone shared stories about the band’s beginning years as we laughed, and as they told us how much Van took up the bathroom on tour.

  The nurses came in and told us we all needed to leave and let Van get some rest so that he could go home in a day or two.

  We all said our goodbyes and I waited until they all left before walking over to him and giving him a kiss goodb
ye. Lips, nose, forehead. I rested my forehead against his, and he looked at me like nobody else had ever done before. “I need to talk to you, Tin. I need to explain.” I shushed him with my lips and gently pecked at them until he opened his mouth, inviting me inside. I lightly tangled my tongue with his reveling in the moment that was purely us. He moaned a small moan, and I immediately broke away from him. I shouldn’t be getting him all worked up the day he woke up from a coma. “Later,” I whispered as I pecked him on the cheek. “Get some rest, Van. Goodnight.” I walked out and took a quick look back to find him already asleep.

  After leaving Van to sleep, I went back to my suite. It was early morning in London so it was the middle of the night in New York. I needed to call Sal, my boss, and let him know I would be home in a few days, and I would pick up some extra shifts to make up for leaving so abruptly. He was a very understanding boss, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I got out my tablet and decided it was time to check my emails and see if anything new was happening. I knew I had a few bills to pay. I scrolled through the junk mail and halfway down the list was a name I didn’t recognize with the words, “Please call me to discuss an opportunity to join our agency” in the subject line.

  I opened the email, and literally, gasped out loud when I read who the email was from.

  A talent agent. Not just any talent agency, but one of the biggest agencies in the city. I was flabbergasted. Me? They wanted me? I stared in awe at the screen reading the email over and over again until I couldn’t see straight, and the pure exhaustion of the past week finally won out.