Cherish, Page 2

  “Where are your parents? I’ve left several messages. The machine doesn’t pick up at home. No one is answering their cell.”

  “They’re on an RV tour of the United States.”

  “They’re on a what?”

  “Dad bought an RV. He and Mom are driving cross-country in it. They’re planning on being gone for at least six months. My guess is that the phone is off or they’re somewhere with crappy reception. I’ve left them a message. They’ll call when they get it.”

  Jerry had always talked enthusiastically about doing something like that, but I’d thought he was kidding. God love Mimi for going along with it.

  Dylan approaches Daniel’s bedside. He takes in the tubes and wires, looks down at Daniel, and takes a deep breath. “Will he be okay?”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  “And the doctors? What do they say?”

  “Not much. One of the nurses told me the doctor would give an update in the morning. Right now they’re monitoring the pressure in his brain. That’s their biggest concern.”

  Dylan exhales, never taking his eyes from Daniel’s face.

  “The nurse said he may be able to hear our voices,” I say. “You should tell him you’re here.”

  Realizing he may want some privacy, I excuse myself and go in search of a bathroom. When I return, Dylan’s sitting in the chair. “Why are you here?” he asks. “Of all the people I expected to see, you didn’t even make the short list.”

  I don’t dispute this because it’s the truth. “I’m still his emergency contact.”

  “Ah, he’s still clinging to you, I see.”

  “It was more than likely an oversight.”

  “Maybe,” he concedes.

  “Is there anyone else we should call? A girlfriend, maybe?” I ask, wincing inwardly because I’m not sure I want to know if there’s a woman in Daniel’s life.

  “Well, there’s Claire,” he says and then gets up and walks away, leaving me in the dark.

  Claire?

  I stifle my proprietary feelings because I don’t have the right to have them. Does Claire know? Why isn’t she here?

  I follow Dylan out of the room. “Well, should we call her?”

  He takes his sweet time answering and gives me a look, the one that says he has some secret knowledge he’s not planning to share.

  “We don’t need to call her,” he says. “Trust me on this.”

  Trusting Dylan would be like trusting a shark not to bite, but any further conversation is halted when Dr. Seering walks into the room and approaches Daniel’s bedside. When he finishes examining Daniel, he turns to us.

  I introduce Dylan, who says, “How is he?”

  The fear I hear in Dylan’s voice is genuine and mirrors my own emotional state. What if we’re about to receive news we aren’t prepared to hear?

  “The pressure in Daniel’s brain is holding steady, but it’s still a big concern. Right now we’re in the roller-coaster stage. Pressure that is being maintained can rise suddenly, without warning, so we’ll continue to monitor it very closely. On a positive note, the bullet has injured only one hemisphere and one lobe, which is the best-case scenario for this type of injury. A bullet that crosses through both hemispheres is not only more lethal, it will do a lot more damage.”

  My hope rises. “Less damage means he’ll be okay.”

  “Less damage means fewer functions lost.”

  His words strike fear into me. I hadn’t given much thought to the long-term effects of a bullet ripping through Daniel’s brain. “What are the functions that might be affected?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

  “The bullet entered the right side of his brain, which will cause muscle weakness on the left side of his body. He’ll have some trouble with spatial perception, and his balance will be affected. There will be memory loss, with his short-term memory being affected the most. He’ll be able to recall certain things that happened a long time ago, but not others. He may not be able to remember some of the events that occurred prior to the injury. His memory loss may be subtle or it may be profound. It’s too early to tell. Gunshot wounds to the brain are a lot like snowflakes. Every one of them is different and unique. But we have some major obstacles to get past before we can assess his memory. He needs to wake up and be able to breathe on his own first. He’s got a long road ahead of him.” Dylan and I must be wearing matching terrified expressions because the doctor adds, “Returning to a near-normal life after suffering an injury of this nature is very possible. I’ve had patients who were able to return to their lives with minimal problems after several months of rehabilitation and recovery. Daniel is young, healthy, and strong. Those are factors that all bode well for his recovery.”

  “So what will happen next?” I ask.

  “We wait for him to wake up. In the meantime, keep talking to him. Let him know you’re here and that you’re supporting him. Let him know that you love him.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  JESSIE

  Dylan receives a call from Mimi at eight thirty. He leaves Daniel’s room, and I can hear him trying to calm his mother down as he walks away. I can only imagine how helpless Mimi and Jerry must feel.

  A nurse comes in and replaces one of the empty bags hanging from the IV pole. “There’s coffee down the hall, Mrs. Rush. It’s the second door on the left after you leave the ICU area.”

  When they call me Mrs. Rush, I’ve stopped looking around to see who they’re speaking to and roll with it. It seems petty to stop and correct the doctors and nurses, especially as they’d probably boot me right out of here if they knew the truth.

  “Thank you. I’ll get some in a little while.”

  I don’t want to leave Daniel’s room until Dylan comes back. Returning to his bedside, I hold his hand and speak softly, telling him that he’s getting better.

  Telling him that everything will be okay.

  When Dylan returns, he says that his parents are just outside Albuquerque and it will take them approximately twelve hours to reach the hospital. “They’ll be calling hourly for updates. If anything…‌goes wrong, I’m to call them immediately.”

  “Nothing will go wrong.”

  “You don’t know that, Jess.”

  “It’s what I choose to believe.” I gather up my purse. “I need to make a few calls. Do you want me to bring you back some coffee?”

  He sits down in the chair, looking as morose as I’ve ever seen him. He glances at Daniel and exhales. “No. I don’t want anything.”

  Out in the hallway there is a cluster of uniformed police officers.

  Officer Spinner strides up to me. “How are you doing?” he asks, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you. Have you been here all night?”

  “Yes. Daniel is more than a coworker to me. He’s also a friend. I’ll be leaving soon, but there will be someone coming to take my place, and I’ll return in a few hours. Our role is to provide ongoing support to the families. There will always be someone here.”

  His statement confuses me. “Families?”

  “There was a reserve officer riding with Daniel. He was also shot and is in the ICU.”

  Shocked, I briefly cover my mouth with my hand and then lower it. “I didn’t know that. How is he?”

  “He’s holding his own,” he says. “Just like Daniel.”

  I buy a bottle of water from the vending machine and find a quiet corner with two chairs and a table between them.

  My mom answers on the third ring. “How is he?”

  Holding his own, I almost say. “There hasn’t been much change. Dylan is here now, and the doctor spoke to us this morning. Their biggest concern is keeping the pressure in his brain under control. Mimi and Jerry should be here late tonight.”

  “Were you supposed to work today?” my mom asks.

  “I’m betw
een assignments.” After the divorce, I registered with a temporary agency. Some of the positions are short-term—less than a week—but others are longer, lasting a month or more. I only accept the ones that interest me, and I’m grateful I can afford to be choosy.

  “Is there anything you need?”

  “I could use a change of clothes and a toothbrush. Could you run by my place and bring them to me?”

  “Of course. How long do you plan on staying?”

  “I’ll stay until Mimi and Jerry get here. Maybe a little longer if they don’t mind.”

  “They’re not going to mind, Jess. You know that. I’ll call you when I’m downstairs.”

  When I walk back into the ICU area, I take a moment to look into the other rooms as I pass by. In one of them a young man is lying on the bed surrounded by at least ten people, five per side. Their heads are bowed as they pray in silence. I get an awful feeling in my gut.

  Once I’m back in Daniel’s room, I ask Dylan if there’s been any change.

  “No. Literally nothing has changed,” he says, sounding frustrated. Dylan never did possess any patience.

  “You heard the doctor. It’s going to take time. I’m happy to stay here if there’s someplace you’d rather be.”

  I can tell he wants to argue, because that’s what Dylan does best, but his need to leave, to be unencumbered, far outweighs his willingness to win this match. He wants to leave so badly he can taste the freedom. Staying put is not in his repertoire.

  He asks for my phone, and when I hand it to him, he keys in his number. “I’ll be back in a little while. Call me if anything happens.”

  I’m probably the last person Dylan would choose to stay by Daniel’s side, but that just proves how desperate he is to leave.

  He gives Daniel one last look and then bolts.

  After my mom has come and gone and I’ve cleaned up a bit and changed clothes, I spend the next few hours alternating between the chair and Daniel’s bedside. I’ve run out of things to talk about because I haven’t spoken to him since the divorce, and it’s not like we have a lot of common ground right now. My feelings toward him, however, are nothing but tender. I loved him far too long to feel any differently.

  Around lunchtime I leave Daniel’s side. I need to go to the bathroom and grab something to eat, and I want to check on the reserve officer. But when I walk past his room, it’s empty. My steps quicken as I burst through the door, my eyes searching for the cluster of police officers I spotted this morning. There are only two now. Officer Spinner is back, and he meets my expectant and still-hopeful look and shakes his head slowly.

  I know it doesn’t mean that Daniel will also die, but at that moment the death of one is inexplicably linked to the other. Maybe the reserve officer was injured more severely than Daniel. Maybe he wasn’t as strong. Maybe there’s no way to make sense of any of this.

  I rush past the officers and head for the nearest bathroom where I lock myself in a stall and try to catch my breath as I sob. All I can think about is the people who were surrounding the reserve officer’s bed.

  I’m no longer hungry, but I buy a Sprite and some crackers from the vending machine. I walk the halls for five minutes, taking deep breaths and rolling my neck from side to side, working out the kinks.

  Later, after keeping watch over Daniel for most of the afternoon and into the evening, I slump over in the chair, exhausted and emotionally worn out. I doze, amazed at how I’m now able to tune out the sounds of the machinery and ignore the near-constant presence of medical professionals.

  Dylan doesn’t return.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JESSIE

  Mimi gently shakes me awake, tears cascading down her face. I pull her toward me, hugging her fiercely, and add my tears to hers. There is something inherently comforting about my former mother-in-law. Her body is soft and round, and she smells like Jergens cherry-almond lotion. I feel better already now that she and Jerry are here.

  Jerry is standing next to Daniel’s bed, looking down at his son like he doesn’t know what to do or how to fix this. Mimi and I join him, both of us sniffling and trying to rein in our emotions.

  I bring them up to speed on everything I know. “I’m sure there will be someone who can answer your questions. They’ve been wonderful to Daniel, and to me too.”

  The room is already feeling a bit crowded, and this becomes even more noticeable when Dylan reappears fifteen minutes later as if he’s been magically teleported from wherever it is he went.

  How does he do that?

  Now that they’re all here, maybe they’re wondering if I’ll leave. Maybe they want me to leave. Free up some space for Mimi’s sister, Jackie, or one of Daniel’s friends or fellow officers.

  Or Claire.

  But Mimi looks like she’s about to fall asleep standing up, and if anything, Jerry is in even worse shape after being behind the wheel for twelve hours. It’s doubtful they stopped for anything other than gas and bathroom breaks, and they must be exhausted. I may be able to convince them to go home and get some rest once they’ve talked to a doctor, so I step out of the room and ask a nurse if there’s any way she can find someone to speak to Daniel’s parents.

  “I’ll be happy to check for you,” she says, smiling.

  She must have been successful because a doctor comes into the room moments later. It’s not Dr. Seering, but this doctor seems very aware of Daniel’s patient history, and he answers Mimi’s and Jerry’s questions kindly.

  Mimi doesn’t want to leave, but Jerry and I convince her. “I won’t leave his side,” I tell her. “I’ll call you if anything changes. Please, Mimi. Let me do this.”

  She finally relents, and when they all leave I pull the chair right up to the bed, reaching through the railing to hold Daniel’s hand, catching fragments of sleep until the sky lightens and Daniel begins to live another day.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JESSIE

  Mimi and I keep our vigil at Daniel’s bedside, joined by Jerry and sometimes Dylan, although his presence is less dependable and his whereabouts are apparently a secret, even to his parents. I overheard Mimi telling Dylan he was welcome to stay with them and Dylan replying vaguely that it wasn’t necessary. Mimi tried to hide her hurt expression and failed.

  There has been very little change in Daniel, save for the fever that developed and spiked on the morning of the third day, which worried everyone, even the doctor. But we were told it wasn’t uncommon, and they were able to bring it back down fairly quickly. The stress and worry of the fever is counterbalanced when Daniel is successfully removed from the ventilator. I spend several hours watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  Now we’re waiting for him to wake up. According to the doctor, it will be hard to determine the neurological damage the bullet left behind until he’s conscious and can speak or respond to commands. Mimi and I switch off fetching each other something to eat or drink, and we take turns catching some sleep on the little couch. Officer Spinner retrieved my car, so I’m able to run home every day for a quick shower.

  The doctors seem a little flummoxed and have admitted that typically someone in Daniel’s situation should have awakened by now. The news sends Mimi into near hysterics, but the doctor reminds her that head injuries are a tricky thing.

  “Don’t put too much stock in it,” he says, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

  Now she’s quiet. They brought in another chair several days ago, and we sit next to each other amid the noise, watching as the nurses perform their litany of tasks, the order of which we’ve memorized.

  We watch and we wait.

  CHAPTER SIX

  DANIEL

  Voices.

  Noise.

  Blinding, excruciating pain.

  Agony.

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JESSIE

  Mimi is down in the cafeteria the first time it happens. I might have missed it myself
if I hadn’t been looking at Daniel at the exact moment his eyelids fluttered. Shooting up from my chair like it’s on fire, I lean over the bedrail and stare down at him.

  Come on, Dan. Do it again.

  His eyelids remain still. This doesn’t prevent me from practically screaming with joy when Mimi walks back into the room.

  “He moved,” I say. “I mean his eyelids did. They fluttered.”

  We stare down at him as if our combined hope will make him do it again. There is no further movement that day, but later when we tell the doctor, he smiles and says, “It’s a good sign. It means he’s starting to wake up.”

  Emerging from a coma is not like waking up from regular sleep. When Daniel opens his eyes the next morning, they seem out of focus, and he shuts them almost as quickly, as if the light hurts him. But Mimi, Jerry, Dylan, and I all witness it, and the mood of the room improves palpably. There’s a celebratory feeling in the air as we surround his bed, cheering quietly as if he’s won a race.

  Later that day, we step out of Daniel’s room and gather round as Dr. Seering tells us what we can expect.

  “As Daniel emerges from the coma, he’ll become more responsive and aware of his surroundings. He’ll begin to follow verbal commands, but he may not follow them every time, so don’t get discouraged.”

  “What kind of commands?” Mimi asks.

  “Squeezing your hands, opening his eyes when you ask him to. As his immediate family, you are active members of his recovery team. You’ll need to help him adjust, slowly and calmly. Try not to overstimulate him, but encourage goal-directed responses.”

  “Will he know who we are? What if his brain is too damaged?” Dylan asks.

  It’s what everyone fears, but I turn sharply in his direction, wishing he’d used more tact, because the question causes Mimi’s eyes to fill with tears.