Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted

by Kaitlyn Cross

“Hey, hey, this isn’t your fault.” He rubbed her back, trading frightful looks with Evy and Laura. “You didn’t do anything, baby girl, but help him.”

  She pulled back and shook her head defiantly. “You always said that if someone wants to find trouble stay out past midnight and trouble will find you.” Brooke inhaled a wet breath. “I should have listened!”

  He held her out at arm’s length. “Listen to me, Brooke, you and Ben have every right to be out on that sidewalk, day or night. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s no one’s fault but the thugs who did this.”

  She wiped her face, uncertainty swimming in her bloodshot eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Laura asked from the other side of Evy, her eyes scanning Brooke’s body for signs of trauma.

  “I have to see him.”

  Will squeezed her leg and stood up. “Let me track the doctor down. Okay?”

  She replied with a faint nod.

  “We will get through this together, just like we always do.”

  Brooke wiped away more tears.

  “Hi Brooke.”

  She looked up to see a pretty woman with long black hair and even longer legs. Her olive skin brought out her blue top and there was unmistakable concern in her eyes. Brooke’s wounded gaze dropped to the silver badge clipped to her belt. The handgun hiding beneath her gray blazer triggered a flashback of the tall man that made Brooke flinch with pain.

  “I know this isn’t a good time but I’m Detective Angela Diamond, and I need to ask you a few questions so we can get these other two scumbags off the streets before they hurt anyone else.”

  Laura got up and gestured to her seat. “I’m going down to the cafeteria. You two want coffee?” Her eyes darted from Evy to Brooke.

  “Please,” Evy answered for both of them.

  Laura turned to Ben’s mom. “Irene?”

  Irene stared at Detective Diamond with flat-eyed consideration, her mouth collecting flies.

  Laura leaned down a little closer. “Irene?”

  Irene’s cold blue eyes looked up. “Some tea would be nice, dear.”

  Laura patted her hand before disappearing down a wide hallway bustling with nurses, doctors and carts on wheels.

  The detective took Laura’s seat, crossed her legs and rested a notepad on her knee. “Now, we have one man in custody but he’s not talking.” A tight-lipped smile flattened her pink lips. “Broken jaw,” she explained. “Thanks to your friend, he’ll be eating through a straw for the next few months, but he won’t even write anything down for us. We need your help, Brooke.”

  “Boyfriend,” Brooke mumbled, staring down the hall where her father had looked, the attack playing out in her mind again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop it from happening and wished she could never hear that crunching sound again. The one the bat made when it crushed Ben’s skull. Wished she could never see the way his body fell to the ground in a heap of limp muscles.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “He’s my boyfriend.”

  Detective Diamond tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and readied a pen on the notepad. “Can you start from the beginning, Brooke? What’s the first thing you remember?”

  “I-I can’t. Not right now. I have to see him.”

  “They’re not letting anyone see him yet, Brooke.” Evy held Brooke’s hand and tried on a comforting smile. “I know it hurts but they have to catch these bastards before they do this again.”

  Irene stared dully at Brooke, patiently awaiting her response. Or perhaps not hearing a single word anyone was saying. It was hard to know for sure.

  They were all looking at Brooke again. She made them go away by shutting her eyes, taking temporary solace in the darkness. She didn’t want to do this, would give anything to never go back there again. Every now and then down the road, however, she supposed she would whether she wanted to or not. After inhaling a heavy breath, Brooke Burnett bravely stepped foot back into the scene of the crime. She could feel the cold on her cheeks and see Ben’s smiling face. Then she saw the white guy step out from the bank’s cubby hole.

  She opened her eyes and started from the beginning, Detective Diamond’s pen wiggling through the air.

  ***

  Diamond slipped the pen inside her blazer and uncrossed her legs. “It’s called Apple picking and it’s happening all across the country.” She smoothed her matching slacks. “It’s a growing problem.”

  Brooke blurred the detective’s high heels into black blobs, her mind playing catch up. “Apple picking?”

  “Thieves will sneak up from behind and snatch whatever Apple product you have in your hand and then take off running. Most of the time we’re lucky to get much of a description.”

  “I told you, they didn’t want our phones.”

  The detective hesitated before going any further, studying Brooke through intense eyes, chewing on the tip of her pen. “And you’re sure it was the same three men from Wooly’s.”

  “Positive.”

  Diamond sighed. “Well, you’ve given us some good information to go on, Brooke, and my money says we will catch these animals.” She paused to lower her voice – including her professional disposition. “And that’s exactly what these pieces of shit are: wild animals. No better than fucking terrorists.”

  Unlike the 911 operator, Brooke could hear the contempt in the detective’s voice and it gave her hope, though she didn’t know why. Ben was lying in a coma in intensive care, the damage already done. Hope seemed like a thing of the past now. Like payphones and CDs.

  The pretty detective turned to watch a nurse wheel a very pregnant lady down the hall. “Believe it or not, I never get used to seeing this happen. Never understood how one person can do such horrible things to another, and I see it almost every day.”

  Brooke turned to her with pleading eyes made bigger by her tears. “Is he going to live?”

  Diamond set a warm hand on Brooke’s knee. “I hope so, honey. He’s in my prayers.” She got to her feet and handed a card to Brooke. “You all are in my prayers tonight.” She seemed at a momentary loss for words that Brooke bet was a part of her professional courtesy. “I’ll be in touch, Brooke.”

  Brooke watched her fade down the hall, despair gripping her insides with razor sharp talons, making it difficult to breathe. “Why is this happening?”

  Irene slowly rose from her chair and approached Brooke. The morose look on her face told Brooke she was about to drop off a big ole’ bag of blame at her doorstep. Irene looked down at her, hands clasped in front of her mom jeans bursting at the zipper.

  Brooke stared into her tired eyes, imagining what was about to come out of her mouth, hearing her blameful words before she could even speak them.

  Irene set a wrinkled hand on Brooke’s shoulder and gave her a soft smile that took everything she had, which wasn’t much. “Would you like to pray with me, Brooke?”

  The air fled Brooke’s lungs. It was the first time Irene had called her by her name. Brooke didn’t know what to say so she just stared up at her.

  Irene squeezed her shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in the chapel.”

  She watched Ben’s mom carefully traverse the shiny floor, like it had been mopped with oil. One white New Balance in front of the other.

  Brooke called out Irene’s name.

  Irene stopped and slowly turned around.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Doctor Goldstein shut the door and took a seat behind a large desk with little clutter. He rested his elbows on the shiny surface and stroked his gray beard. His white lab coat set off his lavender necktie and suddenly Brooke wasn’t so thankful Irene had insisted she come along. Brooke wanted to know what was happening, but after seeing the look on the good doctor’s face, now she didn’t. The heat kicked on, sending a low blast of warm air wafting over them from above. She still wasn’t convinced this all wasn’t just some bad dream. She closed her eyes and tried to wake up.

&
nbsp; Doctor Goldstein coughed into his fist and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry to pull you from the chapel but I wanted to catch you up on where we’re at before we go see Ben.”

  She opened her eyes and the good doctor was still sitting across from them.

  He spread his hands and continued. “As you know, we removed a small piece of Ben’s skull to relieve the pressure on his brain, which is still swollen, but it seems to be working. That’s the good news. His head has gone from three times its original size to twice its original size.”

  Brooke’s heart hitched, threatening to never beat again. The doctor’s idea of good news didn’t sound all that good to her. The room began to spin. The lights buzzed.

  Doctor Goldstein forged a professional smile, hand carved from years of experience. “He has a tube inserted into the crown of his head to remove excess fluid, as well as tubes in his mouth and arms. While he is already looking better in the short amount of time he’s been here, it’s important to prepare yourselves for the coming days. They will not be easy and he is not breathing on his own yet.”

  “Will he live?”

  The doctor’s cool eyes fell on Irene. “He is stable but a long way from being out of the woods. We’re keeping him in a self-induced coma for now and if he pulls through…”

  “When he pulls through,” Irene interrupted, bringing back the doctor’s professional smile.

  “There is still a chance for brain damage and loss of mobility in his extremities. We don’t think total paralysis is likely but there is a very distinct possibility for some loss of function in his limbs.”

  Irene brought a wadded tissue to her eyes.

  “We’re also going to limit his visitations for a few more days but if you’re ready we’ll go down the hall and see him. I just wanted to prepare you for what you are about to see. Just know that he is making progress. It’s minimal, but it is progress.”

  ***

  Out in the hallway, nurses and doctors shuffled past, some with folders in their hands and others with medical equipment. Brooke wanted to turn and run. The sterile smelling hall seemed to stretch longer with each heavy step she took. Her legs felt like rubber, her eyes refusing every window’s cry for attention they passed. One step forward two steps back. Door after door, her heart thumped harder as they approached the next. One of them was the door to Ben’s but she couldn’t be sure which. They were the first visitors allowed to enter and she was scared to death at what they would find on the other side of that door, whichever one it was.

  Doctor Goldstein stopped at the door. Brooke stared at the nameplate.

  Ben Kramer.

  “Just a few minutes today, okay?”

  Irene nodded but Brooke couldn’t move.

  The doctor flashed a tight-lipped smile and pushed through the door. At first, Brooke thought he had made a terrible mistake and entered the wrong room. Then she saw the green tail curling around Ben’s wrist. Her heart plunged. The wheezing respirator giving him breath stole hers at the same time. Tubes protruded from him like a science project, and the gauze coiling around his forehead made her knees weak. A wave of faintness rushed through her, seeming to lift her into the air. The swelling told her everything she needed to know. He would never be the same. It was impossible.

  Brooke burst into tears and Irene surprised her by taking her in her arms.

  “Hey Ben,” Doctor Goldstein said in a loud voice, rubbing Ben’s tummy. “You’ve got some visitors, buddy.”

  Brooke wiped the tears from her eyes only to have more take their place. She struggled for breath, hating the doctor’s phony upbeat tone. There was nothing upbeat about any of this.

  “Your mom is here, and so is Brooke.”

  She watched Ben for a sign of life, wondering if he could hear the doctor or not, wondering if the man she had come to love was still in the room. Wondering if she would ever get the chance to tell him how she really felt. Her knees buckled and Irene steadied her with a strength she dug down deep to find.

  The doctor checked two computer monitors, their different colored lines and numbers resembling a convoluted power point presentation more than anything else. He turned back to Ben and fondly studied him. “He looks a lot better,” he said in a lower voice – the one reserved for Brooke and Irene to hear. He leaned in closer to Ben and raised his voice again. “Try not to talk their ear off, okay?”

  An image of Brooke and Ben in their Halloween attire shot through her mind. Do you ever shut up? she had jokingly asked him on Mandy’s patio.

  “Five minutes, okay?” the doctor asked, even though it wasn’t a question.

  This time Brooke managed a slight nod, barely noticing the doctor exit the room in her peripheral vision. She stared at Ben, her eyes repeatedly dropping to that green tail on his wrist for validation that it was actually him. When Irene’s walls came down, Brooke wrapped an arm around her on automatic pilot, not taking her eyes from the sleeping man in the bed before them.

  “That can’t be him,” Irene said under her breath, trying to show strength for her son and failing miserably. She took a bold step closer, leaving Brooke to stand on her own two legs. Her wrinkled hand found Ben’s lifeless one. “Benji? Can you hear me? It’s your mother.”

  He laid there without moving, eyes closed.

  “You come back to us, Benjamin. Do you hear me?”

  Against all hope, Brooke watched his fingers for any sign of movement.

  Irene’s face fell further into despair as she registered the same results Brooke did. She rubbed his chest and felt him take in lumbering breaths of air, her hand rising and falling in rhythm with the respirator’s undulating whir. “I love you, baby boy,” she whispered, kissing his cheek and leaving the room without another word.

  Brooke stood in the same spot, heart wrenching, suddenly alone and wanting to flee. Her feet felt glued to the floor when she forced them to move closer to the bed. The respirator filled her ears with a labored sucking sound followed by a short release, again and again. By the time she reached his bed, she was certain her five minutes had to be up. Her hand found the same one Irene had. It was warm and that kindled her hope, but the tube coming out the top of his skull was a different story. It wasn’t right, having a tube come out of your head like that. There wasn’t a hole up there. She imagined them making one, could see the good doctor pressing a whining drill into Ben’s head, the smell of burnt bone filling the room. It wasn’t right.

  “You are going to beat this.” The strength in her voice surprised her. “You hear me, Ben?” She squeezed his hand and his lack of response sent a shiver down her spine. “You can beat this.”

  She ignored the tears clouding her vision, preferring the blurry version of Ben to the one lying before her. She bent closer, trying to breathe him in but only coming away with hospital smell. “I love you,” she whispered, studying his face, trying to latch onto something familiar. Even his scruff was gone. The urge to see a picture of him struck with a heavy blow. All of the sudden she couldn’t remember what he looked like. She went to pull her cell phone from her purse because there were pictures of him on it but her purse was with Evy out in the waiting room.

  If she had more time she didn’t want it. The uneasy quiet between them was broken only by the incessant respirator’s sucking sound. In and out. In and out. Her stomach churned. The door called to her. She glanced at it and turned back to Ben. “I’ll be right outside, sweetie. You take as long…” She stopped short to let a heavy load of sobs run their course. “You take as long as you need and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  Even his hand seemed swollen. She studied it, wondering if the next time she held it, it would be cold and gray. With one last squeeze, she released Ben’s hand and watched his fingers retake their flaccid half-curled position. She pulled his blanket up and made it to the doorway much faster than she had made it to his bed. She pulled the door open and turned, willing him to wake up, demanding he come back to her. Seeing it happen. When he didn’
t she left the room.

  ***

  Ben’s apartment was just as cold and gray as she had imagined his hand being the next time she held it. But Evy had been right. She needed some sleep. In a bed. Brooke also needed to be around his things, but found herself alternating between sweet memories and the realization that Ben may never see his apartment again. Never see her again. She recalled when she had stepped foot into her grandma’s house for the first time after losing her battle with leukemia. Brooke remembered looking at the old upright her grandma had loved to play Happy Birthday on whenever someone turned a year older. It had looked so different knowing her grandmother would never touch its keys again. As did her favorite recliner and the cane she used in the grocery store they took her to after church.

  Ben’s apartment felt haunted and he wasn’t even gone. Yet.

  She pushed the foreboding thought from her head and went into the bedroom, shedding her itchy clothes and hopping into a hot shower long enough for her skin to prune. The shower would cut into her sleep time, as she had sworn to return to the hospital as soon as possible, but it was a fair trade. The hot water felt good against her skin but couldn’t wash away her heartache. The tears came again, mixing with the water and vanishing down the drain in a counterclockwise swirl of doubt.

  After toweling off, she threw on one of his t-shirts she had dug from the hamper – the black shirt with his smell still on it – and climbed into bed. His bed. The pillows smelled like him, too, bringing back a flood of memories. It seemed like just yesterday they were arguing over which movie to watch while cooking a DiGiorno stuffed crust pizza. Not a worry in the world. Things had unraveled so quickly. They had barely had time to even think about him losing his job. In comparison to what she had just seen with her own two eyes, that seemed like a walk in the park. She wondered if he would ever sleep in this bed again and before her dark thoughts could carry her much further, sleep took her in its arms, wrapping her in a blanket of gloom and doom that would leave her feeling even more tired than she had before.