by Tracey Ward
“Hey, Kel,” I said softly. “You gave us a scare. You can’t do that shit. Laney called me and said you were… she was freaking out and acting insane.” I grinned down at his blank, battered face. “I can tell you’re not surprised. Me either. She’s really worried, though. I was too, but now that I see you, I know you’re going to be alright. You’ll pull through this. Mom and dad are here with us and we’re all banking on you walking out of here soon. You’re going to do it, right? You have to. You will.” I sniffed and shook my head, tears flying off my cheeks. Tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding. “You know how I know you can beat this? Because you’re not just a boxer. You’re a scrapper. You’re a pisser.” My hand tightened on his as my voice broke and fell into a whisper. “You’re a fucking fighter.”
Chapter Sixteen
He coded twenty minutes later.
We didn’t find out until an hour after, not until his heart was restarted for the second time and he was back in surgery. Mom and Laney were with us again. They were just in time to hear the news that the worst had happened.
His brain was swelling. And it was growing fast.
The next several hours were painful. Mom and Laney cried quietly until their tears dried up and they sat as silently as dad and I. I was numb inside. I couldn’t go to the place where it hurt and I understood what was happening. I’d be a mess. I’d fall apart worse than Laney and it wasn’t the time for that. I had to be strong. I had to hold onto hope.
Finally a new doctor came out and told us the news. Kellen was stable again but this had been a warning. It could happen again. It was more than likely that it would. Bottom line – we needed to be prepared to say goodbye.
This time they didn’t make us wait as long to see him after surgery. Dad went in with Laney. They came back out not long after and mom and I went in to see him. I didn’t speak to him this time. I stood beside his broken arm and watched as my mom whispered softly. She told him Laney was okay and that he would be too. That they’d get him home to the sunshine and the ocean as soon as they could. She also told him she was going to destroy his motorcycle the second she could get her hands on it. It made me smile watching her tell a grown man nearly twice her size that she was taking his toy away. I think it would have made Kellen smile too.
If only he could have heard it.
After that scare things leveled out. Hours turned into mornings, afternoons and sleepless nights. Then those became days and days bled into weeks. Two weeks after it happened dad had to go home to work but mom, Laney and I stayed behind and lived at the hotel. We were at the hospital in shifts – two of us always waiting while the third was sleeping with a phone at the ready in their hand. It was no way to live and we all looked gaunt and sickly be the end of the first week, but it was the only way. That man in that bed belonged to each of us in our way and we weren’t leaving him. Part of me tried to stay prepared to take him home. To fly back with a casket filled full of empty in the hollow belly of a steel bird. It was hard to think like that, but even though I was hopeful, I was also a realist.
“The bruises are fading,” mom mentioned one afternoon as we waited together. Kellen had been moved to a private room thanks his stable condition and my dad’s deep pockets. Mom and I were sitting in chairs on opposite sides of his bed listening to the soft beep of his machines and the wind blowing hard outside. “The swelling in his face has gone down. That’s a good sign.”
I nodded in agreement. “I think so.”
“The cut on his lip is going to scar.”
“More than likely.”
“It’s a shame. He’s such a beautiful boy.”
“He still will be.”
“I know. Scars add character. I wish he’d get his nose fixed though. It’s all that fighting that did it to him. Seems so pointless,” she muttered with distaste.
“Not to him.”
“No, but thank goodness Laney put a stop to it. And now with his hand.”
I cringed thinking of his casted right hand. “Yeah, I know.”
“He’s right handed, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
Mom sighed in dismay. “Well, hopefully it will heal well.”
I only nodded. I was feeling weighed down by the conversation. I was bone tired and so spent emotionally that I could hardly see straight. I wanted a drink or a break or both, but that wasn’t how this worked. You waited and you worried and wasted away until there was hardly anything holding you up anymore.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me.
It was a text from Alexander.
How are you?
Exhausted. You?
Worried about you. Do you guys need anything?
Good news.
There was a pause. I felt bad. It was a weight to throw on him that I shouldn’t have thrown. What could he say? He wasn’t God or a doctor or Kellen. He couldn’t make this situation right and I was a jerk for making him feel like he should.
But just as I was texting an apology, my phone buzzed again.
He’s still alive.
I pressed my hand over my mouth as I swallowed a shuddering sob.
That is the best news. Thank you for that reminder.
You’re welcome. I’m here if you need me anything, okay?
Ok.
“Was that Laney?” mom asked as I pocketed my phone.
I shook my head. “No. Alexander.”
Mom smiled affectionately. “He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“It’s a shame—“
“Don’t start,” I snapped, feeling instantly frustrated. I couldn’t have this talk with her again. “It didn’t work out, he’s a friend now, just let it go.”
Mom looked at me with a stern eye. “I was going to say, before you interrupted me, that it’s a shame he’s still single. I had hoped he’d meet a girl when he moved out here. He’s the kind of man who wants to be settled down and having children. It’s too bad it hasn’t happened for him yet.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t interrupt people, least of all me.”
“I know. I said I’m sorry.”
“Alright.”
“And you’re right,” I said quietly. “It is a shame he hasn’t found the right girl yet.”
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Nothing. You said we're not talking about it."
The woman could not help herself.
I threw my head back in frustration. "I wasn't the right girl for him."
"You could have been."
"If only I weren't me," I said bitingly.
"No, if only you weren't in love with the wrong man."
My blood ran cold. I lowered my face slowly. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, her voice growing hard. "You've been pining over him since you met him. It's hurtful to Laney, it's confusing for him, it's unfair to Alexander and it's sad as well."
"I’m not in love with him," I said quietly.
"You keep telling yourself that. You're the only one who believes it."
"Why are you bringing this up now?"
"Because I'm wondering when you'll grow up."
"I am grown up, mom. Like it or not, this is it. This is me."
Mom shook her head, looking away. "Well that's sad too."
We stopped talking after that. I went to the bathroom and when I came back I sat on the other side of the room from her. I couldn't stand to be near her. She'd never spoken that way to me before. I knew she was tired and stressed out, that that made people say things they didn't mean, but I doubted that was all of it. I think she had finally gotten some things off her chest that had been weighing down on her. Hopefully it made her feel better because now I felt like shit.
We met Laney in the waiting area an hour later. We made sure we all went outside whenever we did a changing of the guard. It was part of the reason dad insisted we keep the hotel room and not sleep in the room with Kellen. He
wanted us to get outside the hospital now and then, even if it was to sleep.
"Did you sleep well, sweetheart?" mom asked Laney.
"Decent. Any news here?"
"Nothing has changed, no."
"Well, that's better than the swelling coming back, I guess." She turned to me, giving me a reassuring smile. "Your turn to sleep, Jenna. I ordered room service before I left. I told them to bring it up in twenty minutes so it should be there not long after you get back. I got you French fries. Lots of them."
I gave her a hug, feeling unusually affectionate and grateful for her. "Thanks, Laney."
She hugged me back tightly. "You're welcome."
A door behind us burst open. Laney and I both turned toward it in surprise, our arms still wrapped around each other. There was a familiar looking nurse standing there. She looked frantic.
My heart stopped in my chest.
"Miss Monroe?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yes?" Laney replied, her voice sounding small.
"Come with me quickly."
Laney stepped toward her hesitantly. "Is he awake?"
"No," the nurse replied. Then she smiled. "But he is talking."
"What?"
"Laney, go!" I cried, shoving her forward.
She looked back at me with fear and confusion in her eyes. She glanced at mom, then back to me.
"Come with me. Both of you, please come with me."
I looked at the nurse. "Is that okay?"
"Yes, but let's move," she said, already heading back through the door. "I don't know how long this will last."
We ran behind her down the corridors until we found his room. My heart was slamming in my chest. I felt like I'd run uphill. My chest was tight with anxiety, my limbs jelly that barely held me up. When we got into his room I nearly collapsed.
I could hear him.
His deep voice was murmuring quietly. I couldn't understand him. Mom and I stood at the end of the bed as Laney approached him slowly.
"Kellen," she called out softly. "Baby, can you hear me?"
He paused in his mumblings as though he were listening.
"Kellen?" she tried again.
He began to speak again, this time a little louder.
Laney looked back at the nurse, her face pained. "He's not making any sense. It's gibberish."
"No," I whispered.
I moved to take a step around the bed. I wanted to get closer. I had to hear him better.
Mom grabbed my arm, her eyes hard on me. "Let Laney handle it."
I shook her off roughly. "She doesn't understand what he's saying."
"Neither will you. He's confused. It's nonsense."
"No, it's French."
Laney looked at me in surprise. "It is?"
"Yeah," I told her gently. "He just said something about ice cream."
"Come here," Laney demanded, grabbing my arm and pushing me in front of her. Toward Kellen. "What else is he saying? Can you talk to him? Tell him I’m here. Tell him to wake up!"
I leaned in close, putting my ear nearly to Kellen's mouth to hear him. The deep timber of his voice vibrated through his breath, into my ear and down to my marrow. I smiled at the sound. At the familiar feel. God, I'd missed it. I missed him.
"What is he saying?" Laney insisted.
"Puis-je avoir de la crème glacée pour le petit déjeuner??"
I chuckled. "He keeps asking for ice cream for breakfast."
"Tell him not until he wakes his ass up."
"S'il vous plaît, maman," he pleaded.
I stood up straight, staring down at him. At his man's face, his large body and the child locked inside.
"He's talking to his mom," I told them.
My mom gasped. Laney grabbed my hand and held it tight.
"Oh, Kellen," she moaned.
"Is his mother alive?" the nurse asked quietly.
I shook my head, unable to look away from his face. He continued to speak, asking for ice cream and pleading with his mother.
I don't know what possessed me, but I leaned over and pressed my cheek to his, my lips close to his ear.
"Pas jusqu'à ce que vous vous réveillez," I whispered to him.
Not until you wake up.
"Il est trop tôt," he complained.
It's too early.
My heart went wild in my chest. He could hear me!
I grinned, my cheek scraping across the shadow of stubble on his face. It reminded me of a night that now felt so impossibly long ago. Not just years or even lives, but eons ago. The world had changed since then. It had been burned up by the sun, reduced to ash and reborn as something new and strange. Older and wiser.
"Ensuite, il est trop tôt pour la crème glacée," I chided softly.
Then it's too early for ice cream.
"Jamais."
Never.
"Réveiller."
Wake up.
"Aucun."
No.
"S'il vous plaît."
Please.
"Pourquoi?"
Why?
I laid my hand on his chest, followed the slow rise and fall. I could feel his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. Mine ached in my chest feeling hollow. Empty.
"Parce que Je t'aime," I whispered brokenly.
Becuase I love you,
"Et que vous êtes absent de moi."
And you are missing from me.
Chapter Seventeen
I refused to leave the hospital after that. Even though Kellen demanded ice cream for another five minutes then fell silent, I stayed. A few hours later he was talking again, still in French, and I was by his side doing my best to talk back. Sometimes he heard me, sometimes he ignored me. Sometimes his skills in the language blew mine away and I had no idea what he was talking about. Every time he spoke, Laney and mom insisted I tell him we were there. I did but it never made a difference. He didn’t know who we were.
The doctors weren’t surprised by any of it. They also weren’t as encouraged as we’d hoped they’d be. They said the fact that he was speaking to his mother who had passed away was a probable sign that the swelling in his brain had blocked oxygen and caused permanent damage meaning he could wake up but think he was nine years old at best. He could think he was a child for the rest of his life.
During week three Laney got sick. She picked up a cold from somewhere, probably someone on the hotel staff since we only went two places and one was nearly sterile. Wherever she got it, it kept her out of Kellen’s room. His body, his great big powerful body, was weak and couldn’t be bothered with an infection of any kind. So she stayed out and it was only mom and I. That was awkward.
I hadn’t given much thought to what she’d said the day Kellen started talking, mostly because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think that she was right. Not about how I felt towards Kellen, but that it was sad.
“What time is it?” mom mumbled, sitting up groggily from the chaise she’d been sleeping on.
I glanced at my watch. “6:30 in the morning.”
She groaned. “Have you been sitting there like that all night?”
I was in a chair beside Kellen’s bed, the soft glow of my phone lighting my corner of the darkened room.
“Yeah.”
“You need to get some rest.”
“I think I dozed off for an hour or so.”
“That’s not rest. That’s your body trying not to die.” She paused, watching me. “You look exhausted.”
I smiled sadly. “I feel exhausted.”
“I’ll sit beside him when I get back with my coffee. You’ll sleep.”
I nodded my head, understanding it was an order and not a request.
When mom left the room, I struggled to stay awake. Knowing sleep was coming sent it rushing at me hard. I picked up my phone again and tried to read to stay awake. As my eyes drooped I read out loud to myself softly, hoping that speaking would force me to stay conscious. I didn’t know why I was so terrified to have none of us alert there with Kellen. It
was as though I thought we were standing guard against Death himself and if we left him vulnerable for even a moment, that rotten son of a bitch would swoop in with his sickle and tear Kellen from us forever. Our hold on him felt that tenuous. It was torture.
“Jenna?”
My head snapped up. It had fallen forward when I’d fallen asleep, my lips still in motion. I jerked my eyes to the bed to look at Kellen. His dark eyes stared back at me.
“Kel?” I asked, shocked.
He grinned crookedly. “Hey.”
I dropped my phone to the floor where it clattered, probably broken. I didn’t care. I didn’t dare look away from his eyes. I was worried I was dreaming. That he was still asleep and so was I and we were sitting there silently side by side while my brain played wonderful tricks on me. Tricks where he was awake and alive and looking at me with that happy expression that broke my heart in two.
“Hi,” I whispered. I moved to touch him but realized I was beside his broken hand. It was where I always sat, guarding his weak side.
“Where…” he began before grimacing and pinching his lips together.
I leapt up. “Do you want water? Are you thirsty?”
He nodded, his eyes following me as I moved to fill a cup from a pitcher beside the bed. They stayed on me as I brought the straw to his lips. I watched him watching me and my body shivered every time he tracked my movements. He was alert. So aware, the way I always thought of him. And he knew my name.
“You remember me?” I asked when he was finished drinking.
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” He glanced around the room. “How long have I been out?”
“I should get the doctor,” I said, reaching for the nurse’s call button.
“Wait,” he said forcefully. I froze with my hand in midair. “Answer me. How long have I been out?”
I hesitated. “A few weeks. Kellen, I should really get the doctor. I don’t know how much to tell you or if I should tell you anything.”