Mom reached out to hug me and I took a step back. I was emotional and exhausted and furious, too. But she wasn’t deterred by my apprehension and approached me anyway. We hugged each other, and I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. Richard reached around and hugged the both of us—and we cried together—as a family.
The week came to a close without any leads or word from Jeremy. Richard returned to work on Friday, but called throughout the day. Mom refused to walk Frolics or run errands in hopes that she wouldn’t miss any calls to the house phone. She also kept her cell phone in her pocket constantly. Leslie asked me about Jeremy in chemistry, but I had nothing new to tell her. Anna drove me home for a second time, but I still didn’t invite her in. I told her it still wasn’t a good time.
The weekend was quiet. Mom and Richard were in purgatory, silently waiting on opposite sides of the living room. I sat with them much of the time. It was hard to concentrate on homework. It was a relief to walk Frolics and get some fresh air, which I did three times a day. The afternoons were nice, but the mornings and evenings grew colder. Desiree and Anna called several times. Desiree walked over once and brought some cookies for the family. We sat on the curb for a while and said very little. Being together was enough. Leslie even called once, since she asked for my number on Friday so she wouldn’t feel left out of the loop—which at one point would have been my greatest victory.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked Anna as she pulled into my driveway. It was Monday afternoon.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’d like the company,” I said and put a hand firmly on her thigh.
“I’d love to,” she said and put the car in park and turned off the ignition.
We got out, and I led her in through the side door. Frolics was in the backyard and charged us with a burst of excitement. He didn’t growl at Anna like he had with Desiree. Anna seemed comfortable with the canine affection. We left him excited and whining outside.
“Mom?” I called out as we entered the kitchen and found her sitting at the kitchen table. The shades were closed and the light was off. She sat there with a glass of water and her cell phone placed on the table.
“I haven’t heard anything,” she said, speaking slow and soft...and slurred. Maybe that wasn’t water in her glass. “Who’s this?”
“This is Anna. I’ve told you about her.”
“I don’t know...I can’t keep up with all of the girls between you and Jeremy.” She sounded like she was in a world of her own. The only girls I’ve ever brought home were Desiree and, now, Anna. It was Jeremy who had them all wrapped around his finger.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Anna came forward.
“Hi, Anna. Did you know Jeremy?” Mom asked.
“A little bit. I met him just a few times.”
“He’s a good kid,” Mom said, speaking more to herself than to us.
“Well, we’re just gonna hang out for a bit,” I said.
“Sure...Go ahead.”
I took Anna into the living room and had her wait there while I put my backpack in my room. I came back, and she was sitting on the couch, casually looking around.
“Do I get the tour?” she asked.
“There’s not really much to show. You saw the kitchen. This is the living room. The dining room is just around that wall. And the bedrooms are all down the hall.”
“Do I get to see your bedroom?”
I pointed toward the kitchen and shook my head. “Sorry, house rules. No girls allowed. You wanna go into the backyard? We can sit by the pool.”
Anna agreed and we went out the back sliding glass door. Frolics found us again. I pushed him inside and closed the screen door. Anna walked right up to the pool, took off her shoes, and rolled up her jeans past her knees.
“The water’s gonna be freezing,” I warned her.
Anna stuck a foot in while she was still standing and jumped from the sharp grasp of the cold water. She hopped around in a circle to warm her foot. We both laughed, and she sat down at the edge of the pool. She teetered her feet on the edge of the concrete and then bravely plunged both feet in the water. She cringed and squealed as the unforgiving water consumed her lower legs in needles, but refused to take them out. She progressed to a silent suffering and then the tension in her face eased.
“It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”
“Yeah, that really looked like fun,” I said sarcastically. “You’re gonna catch, like, pneumonia or something.”
“I’m tough, don’t worry. Come sit next to me.”
“I’m not getting in the water,” I laughed.
“What? Are you like the girl and I’m the guy? How about not being such a wuss and putting your feet in the water,” she playfully demanded.
“Don’t make me push you all the way in!”
“If you push me in, I’m taking you in with me.”
I sat down beside Anna with my legs crossed, and she kicked her legs at the surface of the water, splashing like a child. I really did enjoy her company. Her being here temporarily took away from the stress of Jeremy’s disappearance.
“I almost drowned as a child,” I said, watching the ripples expand from where Anna was splashing.
I transferred her splashing to the thrashing of my own arms as I fought to keep my head above water. Mom dove off the dock, coming to save me. I couldn’t hold my breath even for a second because I was gasping so desperately for air.
“Oh my God. What happened?” Anna asked, breaking me from my flashback.
“I was swimming in the lake, Lake Arrowhead, and a boat sped by too close to me. I was out too far in the water. The driver didn’t see me. I got swallowed in the swells and panicked. I wasn’t able to get back to shore.”
Anna placed a hand on my knee. She had quit kicking. The water in the pool was calm again, the surface glassy and sparkling. It felt good opening up to her.
I took a breath before continuing. “My—”
“No!” Mom cried from inside.
The emotional outburst startled Anna and me. I jumped up and ran inside, leaving the screen and sliding glass doors open. Anna was right behind me, but stopped before the open doorway, dripping onto the concrete.
Mom had the house phone to her ear, listening and sobbing. She rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a mini pad of paper. She rummaged through the drawer again, more frantic than the last, and retrieved a pen.
What was going on? Had they found Jeremy? If they had, it didn’t sound good.
I looked over to see what she wrote while listening intently to the person on the other end of the line. A phone number. St. Joseph’s Hospital. My heart sank even further.
What had happened to Jeremy?
Mom ripped off the top paper and stuffed it in her pocket. She slammed the phone back on its receiver and gulped the remainder of her drink. I stood there impatiently waiting for her to fill me in on the situation.
“Mom! What happened?”
She finally stopped and took a moment to breathe. “It’s Richard. He’s been in an accident.”
14
Accidents Don’t Just Happen
I couldn’t believe it. This was not the phone call we were anticipating. Time seemed to slow as I watched Mom frantically look for her keys. I turned to Anna, who was still standing in the doorway, horrorstruck and frozen. I felt lost, numb, and unable to process the news. Mom ran out of the kitchen.
“Richard’s been in an accident,” I said to Anna.
“I heard. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know how to feel.” I had a hard time looking her in the eyes.
“Do you have a towel?”
I went into the laundry room and found a basket full of towels. I didn’t know if they were clean or dirty, but I took one anyway and brought it to Anna, who swiftly dried off her legs.
“We have to go,” Mom said as she stormed back into the kitchen. �
��Are you coming?”
“What about Anna?”
“Perhaps that’s not the best idea,” Anna said, stepping inside, holding her shoes.
“Thank you, Anna,” Mom said. “It’s really not appropriate right now, Oliver.”
I felt bad leaving her behind, but I had to support Mom and go with her to see Richard. We had no idea what kind of accident he had been in. We had no idea in what condition we were going to see him in when we got to the hospital.
Anna led the way out the side door, so she could leave first and Mom could back out of the garage. I waved to her as she backed down the driveway, and I stepped into the passenger side of Mom’s car. Already inside, she was fumbling with her keys to start the ignition. She dropped them under her feet and had to feel around the floor to find them again. She moved erratically, shaking.
“Mom, are you okay to drive?”
She didn’t answer me, but finally found the ignition, and we backed down the driveway. I didn’t know how much of her uneasiness in the driver’s seat was nerves and how much was alcohol. But I trusted her ability to get us to the hospital.
When we pulled into the parking lot of St. Joseph’s Memorial Hospital emergency room, there was one space left, which luckily was as close to the ambulance drive as it possibly could have been. It was as if the space had been waiting for us.
Mom led the way through the sliding glass double doors. I had to power walk just to keep up with her. She marched up to the ER nurses’ station.
“I got a call about Richard Curry and was told he was here. I’m his wife,” Mom said, placing both hands on the counter of the information desk and looking down at the nursing assistant.
She spoke quickly with one of the nurses who then made a call to somewhere else in the hospital. “Apparently, he’s still in surgery. Please take a seat over in the visitor’s waiting area. A volunteer from the waiting room desk will call you when there is more information available.”
Mom and I looked over at the adjacent waiting area and saw the desk the nursing assistant was referring to. Two older women sat at a small desk, which was really only meant for one. The desk had little on it save an old fashioned red phone, with a short-coiled cord.
“So those women will call me over when Richard gets out of surgery?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A line of people had now formed behind us at the nurses’ station. We stepped aside and sat down in adjoining seats in the crowded waiting area. I perused the magazines on the end table beside me, took one for myself, and passed one to Mom. She declined, preferring to sit in worrisome silence. I was worried, too, but wanted to take my mind off the waiting.
After I had flipped through a few magazines, Mom marched up to the small desk with the red phone and interrupted the casual conversation between the two older women. “Can you please check to see if my husband is out of surgery yet?”
One of the women made a call on the red phone. “Not yet. It may still be a while. We’ll let you know when we get the call that he’s ready to be moved from the recovery room.”
“Is anyone going to tell me what happened to him? Something? Anything?”
“I’m sure the doctor will fill you in once he’s out of surgery. But, for now, we don’t have any reliable information to give you, so if you could please just wait over there.”
Mom looked like she wanted to say something further, but turned around with a quiet huff and returned to her seat.
“It seems like their communication could be a little nicer,” Mom said, as she crossed her legs, folded her arms, and glared straight ahead. She bobbed her foot rapidly.
“They have to deal with this every day. I’m sure it’s tough,” I said.
“It’s their job. It’s what they get paid to do.”
I didn’t have the heart to correct her and tell her that they were volunteers.
Another hour passed, and the red phone finally rang. I felt my stomach flutter with the anticipation of soon seeing Richard. Mom looked just as antsy. Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward in her chair, ready to jump up if the woman announced Richard’s name.
“Waiting for Abigail Mendez?”
Mom and I sank back into our chairs when we realized our wait wasn’t over. A family sitting across from us went over to the desk and spoke with the two women.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I told Mom, who sat back and looked even more defeated than before.
She nodded slightly.
Several more calls came through, and other names were announced. When we felt like giving up hope that Richard’s name was ever going to be announced, our call finally came through.
Mom and I sprang from our seats, and we were off to the ICU, Room 214. We took the nearest elevator and followed the signs along the hallways. The hallway leading to the ICU ended at a set of closed locked doors. Mom pulled on the door handles, but the doors wouldn’t budge. As she grew frustrated, I looked around for any clues for what to do next and then saw another red phone on the wall. After reading the posted directions on how to use the phone, I picked it up and dialed the extension listed for the ICU’s nursing station. A soft spoken nurse greeted me on the other end of the line and asked who I was here to see. With a loud click and hum of an electric motor, the large double doors automatically opened.
The nurse I’d spoken to on the phone met us in front of the ICU’s nursing station and led us to Richard’s room.
Mom walked in first. I tried to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to see, but it was little help. Richard was motionless, lying in bed with his eyes closed. Most of his head was wrapped in gauze bandages and there was tape crossed over the bridge of his nose. The area around his eyes was swollen and the skin underneath was black and purple. He had a tube in his mouth and another in his nose. The blankets were pulled halfway up his chest, with his arms lying lifelessly on top. His left arm was bandaged up to his shoulder and an IV was dripping in through a needle hidden under gauze and tape on his right hand. Wires extended from Richard’s chest to a slowly beeping heart monitor.
“What happened to him?” Mom asked, as she walked up to the bed. But she seemed afraid to touch him.
“He was in a car accident. Another driver ran a red light and broadsided him,” the nurse said. She then walked over to the monitor and fiddled with the dials.
“Is he going to be all right?”
“Dr. Barnes will be here shortly. He can give you more detailed answers related to your husband’s condition, but...” The nurse paused for a moment. “Mr. Curry is currently in a coma.”
“A coma!” Mom gasped.
At that moment, a doctor in pale green scrubs barged into the room. “I’m Dr. Barnes.”
“Hello, Doctor. I’m Helen, Richard’s wife, and this is my son, Oliver.”
“We’ve done everything we can for Mr. Curry. Surgery went smoothly. We had to stop some internal bleeding. We also set his left arm and leg, both of which had compound fractures. He has multiple abrasions and contusions on his limbs and torso, but they are not life-threatening. We also set his nose as best we could. But it appears he has a concussion and hairline fracture on the back of his head. The biggest variable now is that he arrived to us unconscious and appears to be in a coma—and hasn’t come out of it yet.”
“So, when will he wake up?”
“That’s just it; we don’t know. We’ll keep him in the ICU for a few days to monitor him closely, but there’s nothing we can do to safely wake him at this point. He’ll have to come out of it on his own.”
“But, what’s common or average—”
“There is no common or average when it comes to comas. He could wake up tomorrow, or next week, or next year—or there’s the possibility that he may never wake up.”
Mom looked down at Richard, sleeping in the bed, looking beaten, battered, and bruised—but peaceful. The first time I really felt close to Richard was the day after Jeremy disappeared, and now I could possibly lose him, too. It didn’t lo
ok like Dr. Barnes was waiting for either of us to respond. He was letting us absorb the news. I’m sure this was just routine for him.
“So what’s next?” Mom asked softly.
“Now we wait and hope he comes out of it soon.” Dr. Barnes took the patient clipboard from the foot of the bed, glanced over the charts, and put it back. “I’ll be back to check on him in an hour.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Yeah, thank you,” I said, too, and Dr. Barnes left the room.
Mom dragged a chair from the edge of the room so she could sit close to Richard. After a slight hesitation, she delicately laid a hand on his bandaged arm. I hoped he would stir from her careful touch, but he seemed to remain in a deep sleep.
I sat in a chair at the edge of the room and looked around. I didn’t want to stay fixated on Richard and Mom. Each time I looked at them I felt my sinuses begin to tingle. The formation of tears blurred my vision. I had to look away to keep from crying. It was hard enough to see Richard in this inanimate state, but I imagined it was nothing compared to the emotional stress Mom was going through.
We sat at Richard’s side for hours. We took turns using the restroom and went down to the cafeteria for dinner. Dr. Barnes checked in regularly like he had said he would and introduced us to the on-call doctor at the close of his shift. It was getting late and there was nothing we could do except wait—and be hopeful—just like with Jeremy.
On the drive home, Mom didn’t speak. She had cried a lot today and it seemed she had no tears left. There was too much happening in such a short span of time. It was hard to keep up. It was hard to comprehend. All we had left were each other, but I didn’t know how to cheer her up. I didn’t know what to say to make things any better.
When we got home, Frolics was lying in the kitchen with his head down and his tail still. He sensed the tension and misery and didn’t rise to greet us. I sat next to him, and he placed his head on my leg. Mom went into the cupboard. After pouring herself a quarter glass of vodka, she emptied the glass in one cringe-filled gulp before leaving the kitchen. A few moments later, I heard the sound of her bedroom door slam shut.
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