by T. R. Cupak
“Do you need any pain medication before I disconnect you from your PCA for your short trip upstairs?” The emphasis he uses on the word “short” does not go unnoticed.
“I’m good. I need a clear head if I want to get us in to see my friend.”
“Probably a smart idea. Well, you’re all set. Britney, please be careful with my patient and bring him back in one piece.” Aaron’s unease about my field trip shines through his forced smile. It doesn’t take a genius to recognize when someone is uncomfortable, and he’s unquestionably out of his comfort zone.
Technically, I shouldn’t be leaving the ICU at all. Aaron shouldn’t be assisting us, but we appreciate what he’s doing, and we’re grateful for his kindness. I just hope we don’t get him in trouble. If all goes well, Britney and I will have no issues getting to see Deacon. I will even compromise and stay in the waiting area if it means she gets to have some time with him.
It takes Britney no time to adjust to the wheelchair’s movements. She’s good at maneuvering through the halls when obstacles are in the way. She’s a much better driver than she is at helping in and out of bed. We reach the psych ward faster than I anticipated.
We pass through a set of double doors and stop once we are in the psychiatric ward lobby area, which is surprisingly pleasant. The room is bright and cheery, with plush furniture welcoming folks to sit and stay awhile. Hanging on the walls are replica posters of Thomas Kincaid’s artwork with motivational quotes below each picture. The live plants and fresh-cut flowers add warmth and a sense of serenity to the ample space while a diffuser dispenses a calming scent into the air. Classical music completes the stress-free, therapeutic ambiance they are trying to create.
“This is not what I expected.” I tilt my head up to see if Britney heard me. She looks down at me with a brightness in her emerald eyes, and it’s like I’m witnessing all of her worries washing away.
A young woman wearing light blue scrubs with white polka dots slides open the window separating the reception desk from the lobby area. “Can I help you?” she asks.
Britney turns the wheelchair in the direction of the window but doesn’t move me closer. If she did, it would be hard for me to see the person I need to persuade to let us in.
“Yes. I believe you can. I’m Officer Kade Beaumont, and I believe my partner, Officer Deacon Winslow, is a patient here.”
“He’s a patient of Dr. Harrison’s,” Britney informs the nurse.
The nurse says nothing as she starts clicking on what sounds like a mouse.
“Aw, yes. Mr. Winslow is here, but he’s currently on the no visitor list.”
“Miss—”
“Shana Ramsay, but everyone refers to me as Nurse Shana,” she informs us in a no-nonsense tone.
“Nurse Shana, I had a GSW that required heart surgery, and this is the first time I’ve been able to leave the ICU. I haven’t had a chance to see or talk to my partner since being shot. Is there any way you can give me five minutes with him?”
“So, you’re the other one involved in the shootout,” Shana comments.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I can’t see behind me, but I sense Britney’s anxious energy, and if I can’t sweet-talk this nurse into letting us in, I don’t know what Britney will do, or if I can stop her before she does something stupid to end up admitted in here as well.
“It’s too bad you didn’t kill that Hernandez guy. From what I’ve been reading, you and your partner are heroes.”
The nurse’s statement shocks both Britney and me. I admit I haven’t been following the news because half the time they report misinformation, but I know Britney has some inkling of what’s been going on outside the hospital walls. The fact she seems surprised by Shana’s statement will require us to do some research when we get back to my room.
“So, does this mean you’ll let me see my partner?”
“Everyone will be returning from their midmorning break in fifteen minutes. You have seven minutes,” Shana tells us. “When I buzz you in, go left. Mr. Winslow is in room 1014.”
“Thank you.” Britney smiles, showing her appreciation toward the nurse.
Nurse Shana buzzes us in, and Britney doesn’t hesitate to get us past the auto-lock doors. Deacon’s room is two doors down from the nurse’s desk on the patients’ side of the psychiatric ward. The door is open, which seems promising. As Britney turns the corner, we’re both shocked to see Deacon sitting on the floor in the far corner of his room.
Britney abandons me, running to her brother’s side.
“D, I told you I wasn’t leaving you. I’m here now.” Britney wraps her brother in her arms, holding him tightly. He does not move to hug her back.
“Hey, bro. I’ve missed your ugly mug.” I try a lighthearted approach, not knowing if my being here could be a trigger for him. Deacon lifts his head, and the man before me is not my best friend. I mean, it’s Deacon, but he’s not himself. I don’t know if it’s the meds they have him on or what, but it’s like there’s no life behind his eyes, which rips at my heart.
Britney didn’t omit anything when she described her brother’s condition, but it still didn’t prepare me for the scene in front of me. Deacon has a large bandage on his head, covering the gash he got when he slammed his head into the bathroom mirror. He still hasn’t moved or taken his eyes off of me.
“Deacon, Kade is doing fine. You can see that, right?” Britney leans back so she can see her brother’s face. “We need you to come back to us. Mom and Dad need you. Whatever has you trapped in your head, fight it, D. Fight for me. You’re my big brother, and I love you more than anything. I’m here for you.” Britney’s tears glide down her pink cheeks, and I want to go to both of them and hug them, comfort them.
“Kade.” My name is a whisper from Deacon’s lips. Not wasting another second, I detach the IV from where it connects to the base in my wrist. The liquid continues to drip at a slow pace from the tube dangling from the bag.
“Kade, what in the hell are you doing?” Britney snaps, but I ignore her.
“Yeah, bro. It’s me.” I don’t say anything else because I still don’t know if I’m a trigger for him. Pain or no pain, and not giving a fuck if I should have gotten out of the wheelchair, I cautiously kneel in front of him because I can’t take any chances of him lunging at me. Deacon can easily blame me for the hell he’s going through, and I would gladly accept it if it meant he would get out of his head.
“I got that lady and her kid killed,” Deacon murmurs.
“No, you didn’t. I was with you. It wasn’t your bullets that struck the mom and daughter. You know damn well it was the cartel’s.” I reach out, putting my hand on his knee. “Bro, you did your job. It was an unfortunate accident. You need to forgive yourself,” I beg.
“Please, D. Listen to Kade,” Britney pleads with her brother. “Deacon, I need you to do everything the doctor asks of you. I want to take you home, but you need to snap out of this hell you have put yourself in.”
Deacon looks at me, and then to his sister. He does so a couple of times. Britney gives me a side glance, and we’re hopeful that the two of us are finally getting through to him. But, as quickly as we thought he was hearing us, we watch him shut down just as quickly.
“Hey, you two. You need to wrap it up and get out of here. Dr. Harrison is on his way in,” Nurse Shana warns when she steps up behind me. “You, wheelchair. Now. I don’t even want to know.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I slowly get to my feet with Shana’s assistance and sit back down in the damn wheelchair.
“I’ll let Aaron deal with this.” She hands me the clear tube connected to my IV bag and proceeds to back me out of Deacon’s room, toward the exit.
“Brit!” I call back to her.
“I’ll take him from here.” Britney steps behind me and pushes me through the doors. “Thank you for letting us see Deacon.”
“You tell Aaron he owes me one,” Shana states in a no-bullshit tone.
“U
nderstood,” I confirm.
Once we are back in the ICU, I thank Aaron for helping us while he assists me in the bathroom and then back into bed before reconnecting me to my IV drip and the other machines. He takes my vitals, and the displeased look on his face speaks volumes. My temperature has spiked, and my blood pressure has elevated, but he said that could be from the pain.
Britney hugs Aaron, thanking him for the few precious minutes she had with her brother. She also tells him he owes Nurse Shana, which he already knew.
“I’ll be back with your next dose of medications, and lunch should be here shortly,” Aaron informs me when he exits my room. I press the button to dispense my pain medication and impatiently wait for the light to turn green so I can push it again. I didn’t realize how much pain I was in until I’m back in bed. My head is throbbing like there’s a little person inside playing with a kick drum.
“Kade, do you think someone on the staff will leak information about my brother and what he’s been repeating?” Britney’s worried tone matches what I’m feeling.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe the doctor and nurses will think he’s lost his shit and is muttering nonsense.” At least that’s what I hope is happening, or will happen.
“Before I left his room, I told him once more to do as the doctor instructs so I can take him home. I hope he heard me and heeds my advice.”
“Me too, Brit. Me too.”
Britney grabs her cellphone and begins texting. I don’t ask who she’s messaging, because there are only three people she promised to update when she has anything to report. She paces back and forth in front of my bed while continuing her text conversations, and I can’t pull my attention away from her.
One thing I’m sure of, the more time we spend together, the more I want her to be mine. The key—Deacon—to having the woman who owns my heart, is a mental train wreck. There is no way in hell I would bring up how I feel about his sister while he’s recovering. If anything, that would slow his progress.
I love only three people in this world, and Deacon, my best friend, and brother in blue is one of them. Seeing him with my own two eyes was a rude awakening. Besides transients or drugged out freaks that I’ve had to arrest, I’ve never been around someone emotionally or mentally unstable.
I feel helpless, which is foreign to me, and it’s starting to fuck with my mental well-being. I don’t know what I can offer to help Deacon heal. If Britney can’t get through to him, I don’t think anyone could.
One thing is for certain, once the hospital releases him, I’m going to stay with him, or he is going to stay with me. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving him alone. Until he gets the all-clear from the police department psychiatrist, I’ll hold him hostage if need be.
Britney finally stops pacing and places her phone on the rolling table that’s on what is now her side of the bed. She climbs onto my bed, lying down next to me. Clutching my hand, Britney holds onto it and closes her eyes. I know she’s not sleeping because her worry lines are back, which tells me she is still thinking of how to get through to her brother. Something tells me she won’t rest until he’s out of here.
20
DEACON
“Listen to your doctor so I can take you home,” are the words my sister has said to me repeatedly, and it is my daily mantra.
It’s been two weeks since I was admitted—or rather, committed—to the psychiatric ward at the hospital, and it’s been two weeks of mind-numbing medication that, surprisingly, is helping me talk my way out of here. I may not have been the most responsive person, but I’ve heard every word Britney has said to me since my mental breakdown.
Getting out of this place is my main objective. I’m well aware of the fact that my mind isn’t what it should be, but with each day that passes, I feel like I’m another day closer to a padded room. I’m stuck in a place with people who are diagnosed schizophrenics, and when we’re all in the same room, I feel like I’m becoming one of them. It’s fucking craziness, no pun intended.
Besides my daily one-on-one sessions with Dr. Harrison, I also attend an hour of group therapy. I’ll be honest; the group sessions do nothing for me. I get that everyone has their bag of shit to deal with, and I can’t pretend to understand them just like they can’t begin to understand the mental anguish that is my torture, not even the doctors. But I sit, I listen, and I speak when asked to participate.
My parents have come to visit every day since the doctor lifted my visitor ban. They bring dinner, and that’s our time to catch up. The first couple of days were tricky as I muddled through the medicated fog. We learned early on that any news about what’s happening as a result of that fucked-up day is not in my best interest, so they tell me about their day. I sit. I smile. I listen to whatever topic my parents want to talk about, and then I tell them what I feel they need to hear to help ease their minds.
Kade was released from the hospital a couple of days after he and Britney snuck in to see me. Since driving is still a restriction on his post-op instructions, he comes to visit with my sister, but they take turns seeing me. Even through my medicated mind, I can see that Kade isn’t falling for my act. He knows I’m struggling to keep my shit together, but says nothing to discourage me from trying to get out of the hospital. He’s the only one I’ve confided in about the crazy people in here.
Britney, unlike my parents, is much harder to convince that I’m doing better. She knows what she’s told me to do, and I can see her struggle with whether or not I’m being truthful, or if I’m pretending. I want to tell her not to trust this version of me, but I never know who’s lurking and will report back to the doctor.
“DON’T TRY to fight it, D. There was nothing I could say or do to change Kade’s mind,” Britney pleads when we pull up to Kade’s house instead of mine.
It took me a month to get out of the crazy ward, and now my best friend is going to babysit me. Being watched over like a child is bullshit. I want to be left alone. I want to be in my home, with my things, in my bed. I don’t need another person hovering over me.
“Can’t you stay with me at my house?” I ask, hoping that my sister is my alternate option.
“I suggested that. Kade seems to think you have me fooled like everyone else.” She shifts in her seat so she can look into my eyes. Sadly, she’s right. I do have her fooled, but I won’t admit that.
“I’m fine, Brit. Really. I have all of my follow-up therapy sessions scheduled at the doctor’s private practice, and all the meds just like I was taking in the hospital. Besides, isn’t he still recovering?”
“D, don’t fight me on this. You won’t win. Kade is fine. He’s healthy and close to being fully recovered. You know he’s a freak of nature.”
Like a child throwing a tantrum, I open the door to her car and kick it with my foot causing it to swing back harder than intended. Once I’m out of the vehicle, I slam the door shut. Britney is standing on the other side of her car, giving me her death stare but says nothing. I’ll admit that was uncalled for, and I feel bad for doing it, but I don’t apologize.
As we begin our short trek toward Kade’s front door, the left one swings open, and out comes a German Shepherd fluff ball with little legs and floppy ears. The puppy stumbles its way down the front steps, stopping at my feet before it proceeds to pee on my shoes.
“I should have warned you. Dexter likes to pee on feet.” Kade laughs as he approaches. “It’s good to see you out of the hospital, man.” He smiles and leans in for bro-hug.
My sister is holding the puppy and laughing as it licks her face. She’s talking to the furball like it’s a human baby. In the past, something like this would warm my heart and make me smile, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’m a monster. I get people killed.
“Since when are you a dog person?” I ask. Kade has never been one for pets. He said they’re too demanding of his time, so why have one now?
“The department therapist told me I needed something to focus on other than my best friend.
She suggested a therapy dog.”
“Dude, that’s a puppy, not a dog.”
“D, here, hold him,” my sister commands as she passes off the dog to me.
“I have a dog trainer that comes three times a week, and once Dex has his beginner and intermediate training complete, we will start working on his service dog training.”
Now that I’m holding the squirmy little dog, I can’t deny he is cute. He’s a black and tan shepherd with long fur and a face that looks like he’s wearing a black mask. When I look into his little eyes, it’s like he senses something in mine and nuzzles into me.
No. This dog is not in my plan. I cannot get attached, but boy, do I want to. I set him down, and we all head into the house.
“Surprise!” Once I get over the shock, I see my parents and Sydnee standing in the living room with big smiles on their faces. I didn’t see their cars outside, so I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.
“I tried to tell them this wasn’t a good idea,” Kade whispers in my ear.
“Please tell me they are the only ones.”
“They are,” Britney answers.
Sydnee skips the short distance in my direction and wraps her arms around my body, squeezing me tightly. Both of my parents do the same thing, except my mom kisses my cheek and then wipes the remnants of her lipstick off.
Everyone takes a seat in the living room, and Kade turns on his whole-house sound system, filling the common area with country music. He then disappears into the kitchen, and my sister follows. It’s not worth my breath to ask if something is going on between them. I’ll give it a few days before I remind my best friend that she’s still off-limits.
“Dinner’s ready,” Britney calls out from the formal dining room.