Jaden Baker

by Courtney Kirchoff

  It was a long ride to the hospital, though the minutes on a dash clock changed little. Jaden wouldn’t let go of her. He held her hand, whispered instructions for her to live, wishing he could stay more focused on helping her.

  At the hospital, the medics wheeled Libby out of the ambulance, and Jaden jumped down with her, holding her hand. The world would not make sense, wouldn’t have a purpose without her. She had to live and make it through this so she could laugh about it later, making jokes.

  Men and women in scrubs ran toward them, discussing her vitals, what had happened, getting her into an emergency room. Jaden heard himself answer their questions, aware of the words only after they’d left his mouth. She was bleeding internally, they had to find and stop the bleeding. He didn’t tell them he had slowed it down. Try as he might, Jaden didn’t know where the bleeding was coming from.

  “Okay, we’ll take her from here,” they said, and wheeled her down a hall. Jaden held her hand and went with them, but the doctors and nurses pushed him away.

  “I have to go with her,” he said. Libby couldn’t get out of range, he had to be close to her to make sure she was okay. If the bleeding didn’t stop she’d die. He couldn’t be sure they would get to it in time, he had to go.

  “Sir, we have to take her into surgery now. You have to wait,” said a nurse with dark hair in braids. She pushed him away, but Jaden pushed back.

  “I have to go with her!” he yelled, and two men came to her aid.

  “We’re going to help her, but we can’t have you in the operating room. We’ll need to know more about her medical history, so let’s go to the lobby.” Jaden felt Libby slip out of range as he was pulled away. She was at the hospital now, and though he wasn’t the biggest fan of doctors, he hoped they could help her, make her okay. Continuing to fight the staff would only delay her care, and he didn’t want that.

  “Is she allergic to any medications?” a nurse behind a desk asked him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Elizabeth James,” he replied, then remembered it wasn’t her original, given name. “But that’s her new name. She was born Margaret Dalton.”

  The nurse nodded, typed in the information. “Her date of birth?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Social security number?”

  Jaden shrugged.

  “Do you know her family?” the nurse asked.

  “Yes,” Jaden said, thankful he knew of someone who could help. “Her father, Chad Dalton. He’s a doctor. But I don’t have his phone number.”

  Moments later, as if sent by beatific messenger, a nurse jogged into the lobby and found Jaden, handing him Libby’s cell phone, which she had taken from Libby’s pocket.

  Jaden pressed a button, slid the unlock command across the bottom of the phone, then was confounded by several icons. He tapped the one that looked like a phone, his heart hammering fast. It pulled up all the recent phone calls. Krystal, Patrick Adams, a local number, then Dad’s cell-EMERGENCY ONLY! which had been dialed on Thursday.

  He tapped it immediately then put the phone to his ear.

  The phone rang.

  The nurse behind the desk looked at him expectantly. Jaden said nothing to her. It would be no use if Dalton didn’t answer his phone.

  After the third ring: “This is Chad Dalton.”

  At first Jaden thought it was an answering machine and didn’t say anything.

  “Hello?” Dalton asked.

  Jaden stuttered. “Yes, hello,” he stammered, unsure of what to say next. Then the nurse tried grabbing the phone from him, but Jaden turned away from her. “I’m calling for Libby,” he said, and his voice shook.

  “Who’s Libby?” Dalton asked.

  “Molly,” Jaden said, and his voice was cracking harder now, the shakes moving to his hands and knees, a burning pressure building behind his eyes, this time threatening to break. “I’m calling for Molly.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “There was an accident.” Jaden grabbed the counter to keep from falling, his stomach churning, tossing him around like a small ship in a violent storm at sea. “She’s at the hospital. She’s really hurt.”

  “Okay,” Dalton said, and there was solemnity. “Try to stay calm,” he said, though he may have been saying it to himself. “Is there a nurse or doctor there I can talk to?”

  Jaden nodded into the phone and handed it to the nurse behind the desk, who put it to her ear, holding it there with her shoulder, and started typing in information as she got it. “Date of birth and social?”

  Tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. From the information she’d put into the system, the nurse got a list of medications Libby was allergic to, and a brief medical history. Dalton apparently confirmed. Then the nurse told him what hospital, including the address and phone number, and the surgeon who was caring for Libby.

  “I’ll let you talk to him now,” said the nurse, handing the phone back.

  “Yes?” Jaden asked, his voice weaker now. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold.

  “What happened?” Dalton asked.

  “She was thrown in front of a car. It hit her, but I didn’t see where. She’s got internal bleeding, one of her lungs collapsed after she broke a few ribs. They fixed that in the ambulance and she’s in surgery.”

  “Okay,” Dalton said, and it sounded like there was rustling noises in the background. “I’m in Colorado right now and I’ll be on the first flight to Seattle. She’s got a good team looking after her. I think she’ll be okay,” he said.

  Dalton spoke every word confidently, he always did. The familiarity of his voice did not comfort Jaden as he had hoped it would. Dalton only thought she’d be all right, he did not say she would be. Always honest, even when he had something unpleasant to say. The fact that Dalton didn’t know for sure heightened Jaden’s sense of panic, and the floor he stood upon liquefied.

  “She hit her head,” Jaden whimpered, remembering the blood coming from the back of her skull. “Come quickly.”

  “There’s always a lot of blood with head trauma. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I’m glad she’s got someone there who cares so much about her,” Dalton said, and Jaden thought he detected a sense of dread in Dalton’s voice.

  Without a goodbye, Jaden hit the End Call button, then stuffed the phone in his pocket. The pressure behind his eyes was ready to break. Jaden left the nurse’s desk and staggered to the closest bathroom he could find, jogging clumsily.

  The stall door to the disabled bathroom burst open and slammed on the tiled wall, Jaden stumbled inside, then fumbled with the lock.

  He vomited into the toilet, the sick splashing onto the rim. Jaden retched until his stomach was empty, then dry heaved when it was. Collapsing to the floor, flushing the toilet, Jaden put his trembling hands to his face.

  The ravaging, emotional build up behind his eyes broke through. A solitary tear dripped from the corner of his right eye and slid down his cheek. With his index finger, Jaden wiped the tear and examined the moisture on his finger, rubbing it with his thumb.

  It was the crack in the dam. After one came another, and then more, until there was no wall holding them back. Twelve years of pain and despair had been released with this new, urgent, and cataclysmic drama that could possibly end with Libby’s death.

  Jaden sat in a ball on the floor, trying to make himself smaller to fit in the corner, not bothering to hold in the wailing grief ripping through him, echoing off the tile walls. He was a wounded animal, the lion Libby said was somewhere within him, roared, but not in bravery or from a desire to fight. The one person he trusted, the one person who had not failed or betrayed him, was possibly dying. And it was his fault.

  Christine, whoever she was, had come after Libby. If Jaden had not slackened his hold of her, if he’d just held her to him like he had before, Christine wouldn’t have wrenched her from him and hit her with a car.

  The event played in
his mind over and over, each time ending with the sound of impact, organs twisting, blood bursting forth. Skull cracking on the pavement.

  He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to push the images and sounds from his brain.

  Time didn’t tick by, it pounded. His sinuses throbbed, his puffy eyes were sore, and his empty stomach constricted. After an hour of undiluted, wretched crying, Jaden gripped the wall and made himself stand, though his legs were unsteady.

  He would wait in the lobby for news, he owed it to Libby. She needed him to be strong and focused. It was too early to mourn.

  Two children played with blocks on the floor, while a third child, this one older, made faces at an aquarium full of tropical fish, set in a wall that separated two waiting rooms. Jaden sat in a chair that stopped half-way up his back. Other waiters read books or magazines. Some were praying, holding beads in their hands. He couldn’t imagine reading now, he was deeply worried.

  Libby’s phone was still in his back pocket. He worked it out and powered it awake, then slid the button to unlock it. There were many icons, but he tapped the one for photos. He scrolled through countless photos of Trinity and Tucker, then some of Adama and Monty, her horses. There were sunset views of Liberty Bay, photos of people Jaden hadn’t met, her friends. There were no photos of her on this phone, but then again, why would there be?

  Jaden stuffed the phone in a pocket and crossed his arms, surveying the room as his mind replayed events. To stop himself from seeing Libby again and again, Jaden instead tried thinking about Christine.

  She was just like him.

  It had been ridiculous to assume he was completely unique, though for years he had. He never wondered about other people with PK. Life had always been about getting away and staying free, not ever considering that his ability was a shared one.

  In their conversation, prior to him learning Libby was actually Molly Dalton, she had mentioned a Christine that her parents took in. That information meant something now. Chad Dalton found another person with PK, this one older than the nine year old Jaden. Rather than lock her away in an underground facility, Dalton took her into his home. Libby said Christine was crazy, and the coup de grace for her departure. Libby could not have known Christine was there for study, not to replace her.

  Jaden hated Christine. Only now that Libby was here, being worked on, did he wish he could go back to the crime scene and kill her. If only there had been a brick, not a boot, on the road.

  Dalton. Would he recognize Jaden? It had been ten years since they had seen each other, and Jaden had been a teenager then, held down by Madrid’s forceful, oppressive rules. Jaden was a little taller now, his voice had changed, his face transformed.

  It didn’t matter if he was recognized. Things were different now, no one could control him. If Dalton wanted to report that Jaden was in a Seattle hospital, he could. What did it matter? He couldn’t be forced to do anything he didn’t want to. There was one job Dalton had: help his daughter recover, save her life if necessary. That’s what fathers were for.

  Hours had gone by since he’d brought Libby in, and there was no word on her condition. He had never sat so long and worried so much. No matter how hard he tried to think of something else, to find distraction in wondering who Christine was or when Dalton would arrive, his mind always snapped back to Libby.

  His cheeks and eyes were sore from wiping them of the steady flow of tears. Jaden wanted to get a damp paper towel from the bathroom, but he didn’t want to leave. He used his sleeve instead.

  Around eight o’clock, when they should have been at the game, a doctor in pink scrubs entered the lobby and talked briefly with the nurse at reception; the nurse hovered out of her chair and pointed at Jaden.

  The drumming in his ears wouldn’t be silenced. He watched how the doctor moved: steady, confident. Her face was blank but not somber.

  “You brought in Elizabeth?” the doctor asked. She had a soothing voice and blonde hair.

  Jaden nodded.

  “She did well,” said the doctor, allowing herself an easy smile. “We were able to stop the bleeding, and we got to it fast enough to save her spleen. She has a few broken ribs, so the next six weeks are going to be painful. Her skull was fractured, but we think her brain is fine. There’s a lot of swelling around her head and face, so her head looks worse than it is. We’re expecting a full recovery.”

  Libby was going to be okay.

  He sighed and felt his eyes burning again, another tide of tears coming.

  “Can I see her?” his voice quaked.

  “Sure,” the doctor said.

  Jaden followed her through double doors into a hallway. The doctor engaged Jaden in post-surgery small talk.

  “Her chart said you knew she had internal bleeding and broken ribs. You saved her life. Do you have a medical background?”

  “I’ve read some anatomy books,” he said, wiping his eyes with his damp sleeve.

  “That’s impressive. Her room is here,” the doctor said, opening a large door for him, showing him inside.

  Libby was asleep, hooked up to beeping monitors and machines, an IV line running into her arm. Face puffy and bruised, her head wrapped in thick, white bandages, Libby lay motionless with both arms above a folded blanket that was pulled up to her neck. She didn’t look like Libby at all.

  “When will she wake up?” Jaden asked.

  “In a little while. The anesthesia is wearing off, but she’s on a lot of pain medication, so she’ll be drowsy. You can take a seat over there and wait for her.”

  “Thank you,” Jaden mumbled, then walked around the bed to a chair. He dropped the railing of her hospital bed so he could hold her hand. Looking at her didn’t help his crying problem. A fresh wave of hot tears streamed down his face, and he sniffled. His vision was blurry and his sore sinuses throbbed.

  If Jaden had chosen a different drugstore, or entered it five minutes sooner or later, Libby would not have met or helped him. She’d be at home now, or at the soccer game with a friend: healthy, happy, whole. Jaden would’ve left the city in search of a new place to live. She lay here in this state because of him.

  He bent over her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it, then wept again. Crying had never come in such floods like this. Seeing Libby lying there, so broken and hurt, sent spasms of pain and grief through his insides, like someone had cut him open and ripped out his organs for divination purposes.

  After a time, Jaden wasn’t sure how long, Libby stirred. She moaned and turned her head toward him before opening her eyes.

  Jaden wiped his face and sniffled, peering at her with puffy eyes.

  “Hi,” he said, and squeezed her hand.

  She moaned in response. Her eyes roamed the hospital room, taking in the ceiling mounted television, the overly large door, the IV line in her hand. She closed her eyes for a while then moaned again.

  In a slow, deep voice she asked: “Who are you?”

  Jaden sat up, his insides which twisted with guilt and pain moments ago, disappeared. The doctor said she would be fine, no brain damage. How could that be if she couldn’t remember him?

  “You don’t recognize me?” he asked, hysteria in his voice.

  She closed her eyes again and shook her head.

  “I’ve been living in your house for the past few days. We met in a drugstore.”

  Libby watched him. “I have a house? Is it nice?”

  Jaden jumped out of his chair. He was going to get the doctor, tell her something was wrong. Libby couldn’t remember anything.

  Then she tugged at his hand. She was smiling.

  “I’m just screwing with you,” she said lazily, her eyelids drooping shut, then opening again. “You should have seen your face.”

  Jaden slumped into his chair. “That’s not funny,” he said, fighting a strong urge to kiss her.

  Libby thought it over. “You’re right, it was inappropriate. They must have me on some really good shit. So what happened? Why am I in a hospita
l?”

  Jaden told her what had happened with Christine, how he’d rushed her into an ambulance, what the doctors had done for her.

  “But everything is good?” she asked, frowning. Her speech was slow. “All the plumbing checks out? I’ll be able to do the normal woman things? All my girl parts are okay?” she asked.

  Jaden swallowed. “She said you would have a full recovery. Most of the damage was to your upper body, nothing lower than that.”

  Libby shut her eyes, sighed, and nodded. “Oh good,” she mumbled. “But I still hate that bitch.”

  Jaden laughed nervously, and kissed the top of her hand. He’d never heard her swear as much as she had in the past five minutes. The drugs removed the thin filter over her speech. She would probably answer truthfully to anything he asked.

  “It’s the same Christine who lived with your parents?” Jaden asked.

  She nodded. Then she opened her eyes. “My animals,” she said, the heart monitor reflecting the rise in her pulse. “Someone has to take care of them.”

  Jaden pulled her phone out of his pocket. “Who shall I call?” he asked.

  “Tabitha,” she said.

  It took Jaden a while to figure out the phone, but he found Tabitha’s name and soon the phone was ringing. When Tabitha answered, Jaden explained he was a friend of Libby’s, then told her an abridged version of events. Tabitha said of course she’d look after the animals and prayed that Libby would be okay. After asking what hospital she was in, Tabitha promised to come and visit the following day.

  “I’ll tell her,” Jaden said. “Goodbye.” End call. Jaden set the phone on a table. “She’s praying for you and will come by tomorrow. She’ll watch over the animals for you.”

  Libby moaned in response, her eyes closed. She was tired, falling back asleep. In seconds her breathing was deep and rhythmic. Jaden kept her hand in his and reclined his chair back. A nap would be good.