by C. M. Lally
I tell my mom to park somewhere and I’ll wait for her just inside the door. As soon as I step out of the car, a ball of redheaded energy rushes towards me. Cameras start to flash everywhere, and I’m momentarily blinded. I can’t see where I am going, but she reaches out to grab me and pulls me inside the main doors.
“Whew! Glad that’s over. Hi, I’m Aran.” She reaches out to shake my hand.
I return the handshake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jenna. How did you know that was me to rescue?”
She simply holds up Nick’s phone, swipes through the unlock screen, and flashes a picture that he took of me being goofy with Zeus in my living room.
“Oh! I see. Never mind. Thank you for that. Why are they all here?”
“It seems the public can’t decide if they hate my brother or if he’s a hero. So they’re here to capture the story and let their viewers decide. They’re running new footage from the fire in Vasco, talking about how he was out saving his old football coach’s home for his widow. Then, when that story got stale, they dredged up old Raiders footage of his fall from grace, to reintroduce just who they think Nick is. The whole thing is disgusting. I can’t even watch TV. It’s really pissing me off.”
My mom joins us, and I introduce her to Aran. We find the elevators, and Aran walks us to the waiting room that accompanies the Burn Care Unit on the sixth floor. She explains that visiting hours don’t start until 9:00 am, and we’re only allowed in for fifteen minutes at a time while he’s in the induced coma. She briefly explains what it’s like in there, to prepare me, and knots begin forming in my stomach. Aran tells me that we’ll talk more about his prognosis after I see him, but for now she needs breakfast and coffee. On that, I can agree.
Chapter 21
Jenna
I enter Nick’s room, thankful for the knowledge Aran gave me about what it’s like inside. There’s a nurse present, checking Nick’s vital signs. She reminds me that I only have fifteen minutes for now, and she tells me to have a seat.
“Go ahead and talk to him. They say they can hear you, and that it helps with their healing.” She gives me a gentle smile and I nod in response, then she leaves to give us some privacy.
I glance at the clock, noting the time this visit starts.
I reach for Nick’s hand, but flinch back when I see it’s covered in gauze, wrapped around to ten times its normal size. I don’t know if that’s swelling or just the way it’s supposed to be, but now I’m afraid that I’ll hurt him. I resort to only what the nurse says to do until I feel braver; talking is easy, and I know I can do that.
“Hi Nick, it’s me, Jenna. I’m here. I hope you can hear me.” I look around the room for any sign that his body is responding to my words. The heart monitor is blipping. The oxygen monitor on his finger is beeping. The ventilator machine pumps and deflates its hissing noise with each breath it takes for Nick. All of the machines seem to be making the same noises as I walked in, so I’m not sure he hears me, but maybe he does.
“I got here as soon as I could. My mom sent me the video of the evening news.” The need to touch him overwhelms me, and my fingers stretch out to lie gently on the gauze wrapped over his arm. I can’t feel the heat of him, and my heart sinks. The only part of him not covered is his face and neck. “I listened to your voice message. I’m sorry that I worried you. I never meant to do that. Time was against me with preparing to leave, but I should have made you my first priority. I won’t ever make that mistake again. I will be here for you—forever, if you want me to be.”
I watch his monitors beep and blip, getting lost in my own thoughts as they drown out the noises of the room.
“I don’t know what to say without you responding.” I could tell him about Los Angeles, but why waste my breath on such a bad memory already? “I met your sister. She’s beautiful and sassy. Brave and strong. I like her. She raced out to save me from the cameras and journalists waiting outside. You, Mister Bailey, are a big deal out in the world now. They are calling you a hometown hero.” His heart monitor beeps for a few seconds then returns to its normal blipping sound, and I get scared. I watch the lines scratch up and down taller than before across the screen, but it goes back to normal immediately. “Nick, did you hear me? Did that just go crazy because you heard me?”
God I hope so. I want to believe he heard me, and that was my sign of acknowledgment. C’mon Jenna. He needs positive words now, and you are running out of time on this visit.
“You are going to heal and walk out of his place a whole man. Please don’t give up. I need you to fight for you. Fight for me. Fight for us—because there will be an us for as long as you’ll have me.”
I look at the clock and realize I only have a few minutes left. The only thing I can think to do is sing to him. He once told me the favorite part of his day was hearing me sing. I need to give him a good day today—and every day after. I start crooning out the words to “Cold Water” by Major Lazer with Justin Bieber & MØ, because that’s exactly how I feel. I need him not to give up, and to know that I will be there for him every step of the way. I’m not leaving again.
I hear a quiet shuffle behind me, and turn to see the nurse standing there watching me sing to Nick. I remove my hand from his arm and start to stand up.
“No,” she says. “Continue. That was beautiful, and it’s one of my favorite songs.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to disturb him, and I think he needs you more than he needs me right now.”
“Oh, don’t say that. If he’s got you singing to him like that, he’s going to get better much faster than anything I could do for him. Love tends to work miracles and move mountains. I just check his vitals and make him comfortable.”
“When can I come back?” I ask shyly, secretly hoping she says in an hour. I blink back the tears that are forming in my eyes at the thought of having to leave him alone.
“Are you family?”
“I’m his girlfriend.”
“Family members get fifteen minutes every four hours. I’ll mark you down as family if there aren’t any objections from his family. Okay?”
“Great. Thank you,” I say, giving her the most sincere smile I can give without letting my tears cascade down my cheeks like waterfalls. I gather myself and bend down to kiss his lips. I brush my fingers gently across his cheekbones and whisper, “I love you, Nick. I’ll be back in a little while.” I smile as I pull the door open, because I hear his heart monitor do that crazy blipping again, and I know he heard me.
Aran goes in and comes back out fifteen minutes later. I swear her visit is so much shorter than the time I spent in there. I’m thankful for that. I hope every visit feels like three hours, until he gets into a step-down care private room where visiting hours can be all day long.
We all go down to an early lunch, and Aran tells me about Nick’s prognosis. It sounds like he might be in here a while, with the daily step-down from ventilating to see if he can breathe on his own. He has second-degree burns on his hands, arms, and lower legs, which will need multiple surgeries with skin grafting. It will be a long road, but I’m going down it with him, no matter what.
We arrive back upstairs to be greeted with a waiting room full of beautiful bouquets of flowers, all kinds of get-well cards, fan mail, massive balloons—you name it, it’s here. Due to hospital policy, they couldn’t be taken into Nick’s room, so they put them in here for us. Nick is the only patient in the burn unit right now and we have surely taken over its waiting area.
Aran and I walk over to see who they are from. I don’t know any of the people’s names that I see. Some of them sound familiar, but I can’t place them. Aran says they are former teammates from high school, college, and pro playing.
“Oh look,” Aran says. “Here are flowers from the bar he goes to, the Beer & Brood Tavern.”
“Really?” I walk over excitedly and take a look at the card. It says, Keep fighting the good fight. We’ll keep your seat & tab open for you. I laugh as I stop and smell th
e flowers. They’re perfect. “That’s my Uncle’s bar. It’s also where Nick and I met.” I look up at Aran and see her wink at me. “Just look at all the love and support in this room. I wish Nick could see it. He thinks everyone hates him.”
“Yes, well, they do. People put their trust in things and not people. Then they get upset, even hateful, when their mistakes are thrown back in their face. Nick did nothing wrong. He simply made a bad play call that cost them a game. Do you even realize how many games the Raiders have lost that had nothing to do with Nick? Fans don’t hate those players. In the big picture of life, big deal. They just don’t realize how their hate affected him. It killed our mother. He’s a good man, was raised to be a great player. It’s their loss. They don’t deserve him.”
I don’t know how to respond, especially to the knowledge about their mom. Nick has never said anything to me about his mother. I decide not to pry and just accept the rant as it was meant to be, a rant. It’s Nick’s story to tell me. I sit with my mother, who’s quietly reading a book. I don’t have anything to occupy my time except my phone. I have no one to message to talk to about Nick. We never got to the meeting friends stage. I wanted to keep him all to myself.
My mother lowers her book and asks, “So, is this the one I’ve been waiting for to sweep you off your feet?”
“Oh, Mom. We aren’t some characters in a romance novel.”
“I beg to differ. Everyone is a character in their own novel. You just have to decide if your story is a mystery, a thriller, a romance, or a tragedy. I hope yours is a romance. I can’t wait to watch it unfold.” She gives me a hug and kisses my forehead.
One o’clock arrives, and we begin our parade of fifteen-minute private intervals with Nick, since he can only have one visitor at a time. I tell him the funny things that Zeus and I did while he was working late. I’m sure I’ve told him these stories already, but I honestly can’t remember what stories I’ve relayed so he gets them all.
I tell him about my trip to Los Angeles. I give him the honest truth about why I went, and how I felt when I was there. I know he hears me. He’s in there, he just needs to heal so he can come out.
My mom leaves to head back home. I assure her that I’m good, and that I’m staying until Nick doesn’t have to. I promise to call her with anything I might need.
The hospital staff is kind enough to bring another cot to the waiting area for me. We continue this schedule for days, it seems. I meet Nick’s Dad, who comes to visit one day. Nick told me they don’t get along, but I can’t tell from my conversation with him.
Aran and I have long talks. She tells me the funny—and rotten—stories about Nick as a kid. I can tell she’s holding some of the more personal stories back when she starts and stops often. I guess those are things Nick should tell, but I am enjoying every single story. She’s got me laughing like we’re at an extended slumber party, but in a very strange location though.
You can hear in her voice that she worships her older brother. They have a great relationship; her face lights up while she tells certain stories. She even laughs hard, to the point where tears are streaming down her face, from laughing and thinking about the events that occurred. She’s had me in stitches a few times. I don’t have siblings, but always wanted a sister to laugh with. Maybe I will finally get one with Aran.
We receive endless updates on Nick’s condition, which is improving. They hope to wake him up tomorrow, to see if he can fully breath on his own. I pop down to the gift shop to buy a bottle of water and notice blue index cards on the shelf in a display of writing materials. The same ones I use for my songwriting. I buy a pack, and some tape. I’m going to cheer Nick up.
He still doesn’t know it’s me that left those notes on his truck. He might wake up tomorrow and I want him to see these notes hanging. Who cares if I finally reveal it’s been me this whole time. I run upstairs and start drafting a few to hang up.
Chapter 22
Jenna
I let Aran take the next visit because I want to finish up the note cards I spent most of last night writing. Yesterday, the hospital decided that since it was only the two of us visiting Nick we could extend our fifteen minutes to a half hour. He’s improving, so the extended time remains.
Aran went out yesterday and gave the reporters and journalists the family response to Nick and his healing process. I got to watch it on the news in the lobby. She was gracious and sincere. She did a wonderful job. Nick will be so proud of her when he wakes up today.
She rushes back into the waiting room, filled with excitement, jumping with joy and hugging me. We even do a little dance while hugging. She babbles at me a million miles a minute, telling me that his tubes are all gone and the only things still on him are the heart monitor and finger pulse thingy. I have to slow her down to take it all in. She practically pushes me out the door to go and see him. I gather my cards and tape and quickly head in that direction. I watch her eyeball the pieces of my project, curiosity in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask a thing.
I take a deep breath outside the door, steeling myself for what I’m about to see. I push the door open and enter the room, then stand and stare in shock.
He looks amazing. His coloring is coming back and I can see his full, beautifully perfect face, no longer obscured by large, rigid tubes. His strong jawline is visible, with a healthy dose of scruff growing on it. I asked the nurses not to shave him since his beard area wasn’t burnt. He’s even more handsome with it. It makes those kissable lips stand out, like it outlines them, drawing your attention in.
I quickly tape my cards up on the windows, not wanting to disturb the paint on the walls. Once finished, I read them to him. I pause after each one and watch him, looking for any acknowledgment that he hears me. His body twitches every now and again, on the ones with the deepest emotions and words on them.
He’s coming back to me.
I sit and pray that he wakes up. The nurse said it could take a while, but he’s successfully breathing on his own. His lungs are healing well, they assured me, and everything else will just take time.
I relay some of the funnier stories that his sister told me, with the caveat that he cannot retaliate against her for sharing. I tell him how long and lonely the nights are here without him. I kiss his face and forehead. I rub my hands over his arms and legs.
Every touch brings me peace that he’s still with me, but I need to hear his voice. I need to see his eyes. It’s a need that burns through me. Every day that goes by that I can’t have those things, I die inside. I am losing my mind without him. I will him back to me with words and tears and promises that I will keep, as long as he wakes up.
In a moment of weakness, I start singing an old Laura Branigan song that I was learning for the 80s theme night at the bar. It’s called “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You.” The song has been remade several times, but I like the original version.
I walk over to the window and stare out as I sing. It’s a beautiful day outside. Nick is missing the sunshine. I get lost in the rest of the song, and can’t finish it with this hard ball of emotion in my throat. I stop because I am sobbing and sniffling. I swipe at my tears and turn to grab tissues to blow my nose, but stop when I catch Nick staring at me. His eyes are open wide and he’s crying. I watch him struggle to talk, but put my finger over his mouth and make a “shh” noise. I push the nurse’s button and hear a voice come over the speaker. I tell her Nick is awake and needs water.
I bend down and kiss his lips. I wipe the tears from his face with my thumbs, and dab at the remainder with a tissue. He needs to be presentable when the nurse arrives. I can’t have them thinking I upset him. The nurse arrives quickly, with a cup of water and a straw. She raises his bed and helps him get comfortable enough to drink. She continues shuffling about the monitors, gathering readings and scanning his wrist band.
I offer to leave for privacy, but Nick grunts at my suggestion. The nurse says, “I think someone wants you to stay. He must love your singing.
” Nick looks at the nurse and nods his head. She just laughs at him.
It’s so good to see his eyes. My life is complete.
He looks over my head and sees the index cards on the window. He raises his arm to point at them, and raspingly asks, “You?”
“Yes, me. I made you new ones. I’ve been behind in my note-leaving lately, so I thought I would catch up.”
He smiles, and it lights up the room. God, his smile makes me melt inside. It does this crazy twisting thing with my stomach. It’s like the dip on a roller coaster right as it heads for the loop-the-loop. As the nurse checks his blood pressure and temperature, I tell him about the waiting room full of fan mail that Aran and I have been going through. I explain about the reporters outside, and what a great job Aran has done handling the family reports. I tell him he’s a hero. He just looks at me with curious eyes.
I check the clock and my half-hour is over. I explain to him about the hours and he seems upset, flailing his arms and glaring at the nurse with squinted eyes. He wants her to change the rules. He tries to get a few words out but the nurse stops him. “If you’re a good boy about the rules today, and your doctor agrees, we will see what we can do for tomorrow.”
He nods. He’ll be a good boy.
I kiss him goodbye, and he lingers, continuing to brush his lips back and forth over mine, now that he can control something.
I giggle and pull away. “There’s plenty of time for that,” I say as I playfully pop his nose with my index finger. “I’ll be back at 5:00 pm. I promise. Get some rest, because Aran will be in to see you then as well.”
He stretches his hand out to hold mine while I walk away. I get to the end of the bed before we can’t touch anymore and we glide apart. He winks at me right before the door closes shut, and I skip to the waiting area, ignoring the nurse’s stares. No one could possibly ruin my mood today.