Balm

Chapter 2

The beeping was a comfort. Its steady rhythm was proof that Billy was still alive, still with them despite what the doctor had warned. It thumped in Victoria's chest like hope, her heart translating the constant beep, beep, beep, beep into a silent prayer: breathe, breathe, breathe, breath. And then, in the midst of her prayer, the answer would come as the ventilator sighed, forcing air through Billy's lungs and reminding her, too, to exhale. This was what she focused on, the beeping, and not the million drops of fear tapping at her soul.

Behind her, the heavy door clicked. She didn't move, didn't dare turn her head away from Billy to see who it was. Jill and Colin had already been to see him. So had Traci and Ashley. She had watched both groups from the chair by his bed, the heels of her boots teetering on the edge of the seat, her knees drawn to her chest like a child or an animal protecting itself. She watched them sob and pray over him, mother him and beg him to fight and get better. She watched them do as she had done and search for places to touch him and kiss him without hurting him, and then they told him how much they loved him and needed him, listed all the things he had to live for. She watched it all, motionless and numb, without interrupting, without participating.

They had been alone for a while, she and Billy and the machines, so when the door opened this time, Victoria knew it had to be Jack. Only three visitors were allowed at a time in the ICU, and somehow, it was just understood she was always the third. The others would simply have to take turns. Silence followed the click of the door, and panic struck. Maybe it wasn't Jack after all. Or maybe he wasn't alone. Once again, she was reminded that technically, this wasn't her place, her responsibility. He wasn't hers. There was someone else.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Sigh.

She refused to exhale this time, holding the air tight in her lungs instead, until finally the door clicked again and one pair of shoes, only one pair, shuffled towards her and a strong, worn hand she had known since childhood landed heavily on her shoulder. The air rushed violently from her lungs at his touch, and Victoria laced her fingers through his and leaned her head against his suited arm.

"It's like déjà vu," she murmured.

"All over again," Jack echoed and then slipped his hand from hers and off her shoulder.

He appeared in the periphery, rounding the hospital bed, coming to a stop opposite her. His eyes scanned every inch of the bruised and broken man he towered over, taking stock of each injury, each tube, each disfigurement that refused to let him believe it was Billy in that bed fighting for his life. The shock had worn off for Victoria. She had found that the more she stared, the more she found little pieces of him that were familiar and unscathed. The pattern of freckles on his shoulder. Those funny ears that two of her children had inherited. The curve of his bottom lip. All the parts of someone you never forget once you've loved them. But watching Jack affected her, gutted her once more, and she felt the tears threaten as the hand that had just been on her shoulder inched towards Billy and hovered against his swollen cheek.

"Little brother." His jaw was quivering as he said the two words, and his eyes shone with tears of his own, tears and defeat.

"What happened, Jack?" she said, suddenly angry again. His head snapped to face her, and he looked guilty, accused. She hadn't meant it so harshly, especially knowing how Jack felt responsible for Billy, always had. She wiped the growing moisture from her eyes and softened her tone. "What happened?" she repeated. "I thought we were over the worst. So, how did this happen? How did any of this happen?"

He sat in response, in the other chair that flanked the hospital bed and studied his hands as he considered the weight of what she was asking. There was no answer really. They both knew that. "Life," he offered simply with an apologetic smile. "And my brother, he can be his own worst enemy."

Victoria forced a half smile in return and let the heels of her boots slide to the floor. She leaned forward and touched Billy again, on his hand, one finger slipping between his to find the secret black mark she had discovered earlier. His skin was warm. She needed to feel that warmth, needed more proof than just beeping to let her know he was there.

"Do you think I let him down?"

"No, Victoria. You did nothing wrong."

"I could have forgiven him," she whispered. "If I had forgiven him, we wouldn't be here right now."

"You don't know that." Jack's voice was stern but loving. He leaned forward too, using the closeness to demand she pay attention to him. "Listen to me. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault. If anything it's my…I'm… Look, there are things we all could've have handled differently. But right now, we just have to focus on getting him better."

"But what if he doesn't, Jack? What if he doesn't get better this time?"

"He will. He has to."

"Look at him," she cried. "How is he going to survive this?"

"Love." She heard the word between her own sobs. Jack was looking at her, at them, his eyes glued to the spot where her hand and Billy's intertwined. "Love is the balm that heals all wounds."

"You really believe that?"

"I have to believe that. Besides," he smiled, "you're here. That's all the proof I need."

She turned away from his stare and pulled her hand from Billy's. What he said struck a nerve, opened an old would and consequently reminded her of another. "Has, um, has anyone called Ch-Chelsea?"

His brow furrowed in surprise and confusion, and his mouth hung open, unable to form words.

"She should know, Jack. As much as…I would want to know."

"She knows," he finally said.

"Oh." Victoria cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, nervously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear

"She's not coming." Jack seemed to have read her mind, and she shot him a look relief and gratitude that didn't last long.

"What? W-why not? I…I thought they…"

"It's a long story." He pressed the palms of his hands together, the fingertips of each hand tapping against each other anxiously. She could tell he'd rather not say anything else, but her glare required more, and he gave it unwillingly. "She's with someone else."

"Someone else? Who? When did this happen?"

"Gabriel Bingham. It's recent. A few days."

"Gabriel Bingham? Nick's friend from boarding school? But she never said anything. I called looking for him, Jack, and she never mentioned it. Oh God. Is this-is this why…do you think he was trying to hurt himself?"

"No." His voice boomed, startling her. "He wouldn't do that."

"He left a note," she seethed back. "Why else would he leave a note?"

"Because he loves you. I imagine that's what the note is about. Look at me. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to Katie or Johnny. Or you. You know that. Trust it."

She couldn't breathe, not even when the ventilator reminded her. She knew in her gut Jack was right. She knew that what she was suggesting wasn't who Billy was, but she couldn't trust anything right now, not even her gut. Not even Jack who clearly knew more than he was telling. She needed him to come clean with her, but before she could interrogate him, the door clicked open behind her once again. She expected to see the nurse who came every hour to check on Billy and to suction around the tube taped down at his mouth, but it was Jill standing there in the doorway instead, looking as tired as she felt.

"Any change?" Jill asked, ignoring the tension she had walked in on except for lengthy stares at both Victoria and Jack.

"No," Victoria answered quickly and stood. Over Jack's shoulder the first light of day shone through the oversized window soft and gray. It was morning already. She had been there for hours. The kids would be up soon, and she would have to figure out something to tell Johnny about his daddy.

"Victoria, honey," Jill said, approaching her. "I know you probably don't want to leave, but the police officers are still here. They've talked to everyone else, and they'd like a word with you too."

"I don't know anything, Jill. I haven't talked to him in days."

"None of us have," her former mother-in-law confessed. There was shame and guilt in her voice that resonated with Victoria despite the differences in their circumstances. Jill sucked back her failures with a smile and placed a comforting hand on Victoria's shoulder. "But they still want to talk to you. Who knows, you might be able to tell them something that will help."

Jill was right. She didn't want to leave Billy or the beeping. Imagining what was going on was always worse than being there, seeing for yourself. But she would have to leave him sooner or later.

"We'll come get you if there's any change," Jack added.

"Ok," she finally conceded and grabbed her purse from the floor before she could change her mind. The door swung open just as she reached for the handle, and Dr. Walker breezed in, nearly knocking her over."

"Sorry," he said without making eye contact. He carried a folder in his hand and flipped it open as he took stock of the room. "I'm glad you're all here. There's something I need to discuss with you."

"Has there been a change in his condition?" Jill spoke in equal parts hope and fear, her hand clutched over her heart.

"No. It isn't about his condition. Not directly about his condition"

"Then can it wait?" Victoria huffed. "I need to give my statement to the police and call home."

Dr. Walker finally acknowledged her with the same confused look from last night. She knew what he was thinking. She was just the ex-wife. What power did she have? And he was right.

"If it can wait, Doctor," Jack said as he stood, rescuing her enough to make her forget he was keeping something from her, "we'd prefer Victoria to be here for all updates."

Defeated, the man in charge of keeping Billy alive closed the folder and opened the door. "Fine. But we can't put if off for long" he warned.


Victoria saw one of the officers, the taller one from last night, as soon as she walked through the ICU doors. His back was to her, a cell phone pressed to his ear, and she used the opportunity to slip down an empty hallway. Sure she was alone, she dug her own phone from the bottom of her purse. She would talk to the officer, later, but there was something more important she had to do first. She had one missed call and several texts when she turned her phone back on. Most of them were from Ben. She'd left without telling him where she was going, without telling him she was leaving at all. She should have felt bad about it, but she didn't. She would call him later and explain everything, she decided as her finger searched out another number.

"Mom," she said as soon as the ringing stopped.

"Victoria?" her mother said. Her voice was groggy and laced with concern. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"I didn't wake you, did I? I know it's early…"

"No, no it's fine. Your father tossed and turned all night, so I've been up for a while. What's wrong? I can hear in your voice something's wrong. Is it the kids?"

"It's Billy," she blurted and bit her lip hard to control the tears that started again. "There was an accident."

"An accident? Is he okay?"

"No. He's not okay, Mom.. He's at the hospital. He-he might not make it."

"Is he at Memorial? I'll be right there."

"No. no." She sniffed back the emotion and stiffened her spine, stretching the ache out of her lower back. She liked the idea of falling apart in her mother's arms, crying to her about the man she had loved, still loved, and the impossible possibility of losing him. But she couldn't. She had to be strong. "I, um, I need you to do something else. Hannah's with the kids, but I don't know how long I'll be here and—"

"You don't have to say another word. I'll take care of everything."

"Thank you," she breathed. "Katie should have enough bottles to last all day, and I'll, um, I'll figure something out later."

"We'll be fine," Nikki assured her.

They were the words she needed to hear, the words she knew she would hear from her mother. She felt the relief right away. It was one less thing to worry about, one less obstacle keeping her from getting back to that room. The last obstacle was waiting for her when she rounded the corner. He looked up right away and smiled, tipping his officer's hat as she approached.

"Ms. Newman."

"Victoria. Please."

"Officer Shaw," he said and shook her hand before leading her inside a small waiting room. The room was empty, and he motioned for her to take her pick of the couch or one of four chairs. She shook her head at both, preferring to stand after sitting for so long. He sat, though, in one of the chairs opposite her and rested his notepad on one knee.

"I just have a few questions for you."

"Sure, but I don't really know anything. Billy and I are divorced, and I haven't seen him since the 14th."

"Huh. Most people don't see their exes on Valentine's Day."

"He came by to see our kids. We have a son and a new baby. A little girl." She saw the puzzled, amused look that flashed across his face, but ignored it as she continued. "It was also his daughter's birthday. Delia. She was, um, she passed away after a hit-and-run about a year and a half ago."

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I imagine it was a tough day for him then. Was his mood or attitude different than normal?"

Victoria sighed and shook her head "no." But even as she did it, she questioned it. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to remember that day, what he wore, if it was sunny, anything she could. That day was the last time she saw him. That day might be the last time she would ever see him again, as himself and not in a hospital bed. She had to remember, not for any officer, but for herself. "I mean, he played with kids like normal. Wrestled with Johnny. Put Katie down for her nap. He was sad, though. A little sad. I'm sure he was thinking about Delia. Missing her."

"Did he say that?"

"He didn't have to. He's always thinking about her." A smile eased across her face as her eyes fluttered open. She saw him, plain as day, sitting on their couch, surrounded by mountain of toys he and Johnny had dragged from the playroom. The sun was shining across his face, and they were laughing "We talked about her, that day. About what we would have gotten her this year. What kind of party she would have wanted. How much ice cream she would have eaten. She loved ice cream. Maybe more than me."

The officer was smiling with her, and suddenly she felt uncomfortable and had to cross the room for distance.

"Did he have any plans for the day?"

"I imagine he was going to see Delia. At her grave or maybe the spot where she was hit. He does that. He doesn't think I know."

"And after that?"

"I don't know," she shrugged and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was stale, but still hot. "I told him he could have the kids later, but he has a…a girlfriend. Or had a girlfriend rather. They may have had plans."

"Had?"

"Yeah, Jack, his brother, says they broke up or something."

Officer Shaw stopped writing and flipped back through the pages in his notebook, his finger scrolling through lines of scribble that he read back to her. "Chelsea Lawson, right? And her husband… her husband was the one who hit your stepdaughter?"

"Adam." She spit his name into the air like venom. "You know it's funny. Adam died in a crash last year. And now Billy…" She stopped herself and took another long sip from the Styrofoam cup. Adam's name burned in her brain, burned in pencil marks on crumpled paper folded in her back pocket. "He couldn't get over it," she said and pulled the note out, waving it in the air as proof. "What Adam did to DeeDee. What he blames him for doing to us."

"Do you mind if I take that?" he asked. "I'd like to test it for prints, DNA. I was going to ask last night, but…you seemed to need it."

"Sure." She tossed what was left of her coffee in the trash and walked towards him, dropping the last piece of Billy she had into his lap. "Maybe it'll make more sense to you then it did to me."

"I'll get it back to you when I'm done." He stood and she knew the interview or interrogation, whatever it was, was over. Only when he headed for the door did she regret giving him the note. She thought about asking to see it one more time, memorize every word, but she didn't and it floated away from her in the hands of a stranger before she could hardly process the loss.


"Okay. I'm back," Victoria announced as she entered Billy's hospital room. Jack was the only one with him. He'd taken his jacket off and sat beside his brother with his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. His face was red with anger or passion, almost as red as Billy's injured face. When he saw her, he sat up straight, caught, trapped with nowhere to go. Not without answering her first.

"What's going on, Jack?"

He opened his mouth to speak or lie, but the click of the door saved him.

"Good. You're both here." Dr. Walker held the door until Jill had entered and taken a seat. Jack remained where he was, while Victoria once again stood. That seemed like an error in judgment as soon as the man in the white coat opened his mouth. "We had hoped Billy would be awake by now and this wouldn't be an issue."

"What does that mean?" Jill asked. "I thought you said this wasn't about his condition."

"It isn't. As I said last night, Billy was brought in as a John Doe. All treatment given to him was prior to any knowledge of his medical past or preferences. We didn't have his records to consult. Our mission was to save his life."

"And you did that , Doctor," Jack said. "We're grateful for the care you've given my brother, and I think I speak for everyone here when I say we are prepared to see this through. He'll have whatever treatment you prescribe. The best care. For as long as it takes."

"No you won't." All eyes turned to the physician, the healer. His face was stoic, unapologetic for his bluntness. "It isn't your choice. Billy has a living will. That's what I need to discuss with you."

"What does that mean?" Jill asked for all of them.

"He has a signed legal document stating he wants no heroic measures. He does not want prolonged life support. He does not want to be a vegetable."

"No." Jill pushed herself from the chair, her heartbreak written all over her face. "He must have done it after Delia died. He was so distraught. It can't be legal. It can't be legal to sign anything in that condition."

"It's dated 2010. October. It is legal, and I have to honor it. He was very specific about his wishes. I'm sorry, but if his condition doesn't change, if he doesn't wake up or become able to breathe on his own, we will have to take him off the ventilator."

"But he'll DIE," Jill screamed. Jack rushed to her side, catching her before she collapsed. Victoria watched like a stranger, like it was a movie she hadn't chosen and couldn't end.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Walker said again, and this time he seemed to mean it.

"No," Jill said again and rushed at him. "I don't accept this. I won't. We'll fight it. I'll get Michael to file an injunction or something. He is not going to die."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Sigh.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Exhale.

The room was spinning. And cold. She tried to hear the beeping, but it was muffled. Through a tunnel she heard Jill say she was going to call Michael. She saw them leave. Jack. Jill. The doctor. Until she was alone. Alone with Billy and the beeping.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Sigh.

Don't ever die.

She remembered that October as well as any. Daniel's art show. The vintage wedding ring he slipped on her finger. Father Knows Best. Thongs and twin beds. Murphy and Katherine.

Don't ever die.

She looked at him, a lump in a bed. Lifeless. Disfigured. She hated him.

"You don't get to do this," she whispered. And then she rushed at him, her face up against his so close she saw the purple hues of the bruises beneath the surface. "You don't fucking get to do this. You don't get to leave me again. You don't get to make me fall in love with you so hard and then break my heart so hard and then leave me. Again. And again. And again. How could you? How could you do this, Billy? If you die, I will never forgive you. I will hate you for the rest of my life. I promise you that."

She backed away trembling with anger. Her eyes landed on all the familiar spots. The freckles. His ears. The bottom curve of his lip. All that was left of his tattoo. "You don't get to do this," she said again and grabbed her purse and coat. "I get to leave this time. I do."

Her heels clicked loud down the hall. She didn't try to quiet them. The patients she passed last night were still there in their glass display boxes, their tubes and machines still keeping them alive, their loved ones no longer in makeshift beds, but by their sides, another day of keeping vigil. Victoria marched passed them blindly, her sole focus the doors she had to push a button to exit. Through them, she bee lined for the elevator, past concerned, confused eyes. Jill called her name as she pushed her way inside the elevator. She called it again as Victoria punched the button for the ground floor over and over again. Victoria didn't hear her. She didn't hear anything until the final doors opened and the shrill beeping of a car alarm greeted her as the frigid February air seized in her lungs.