The Disclaimer Continues. Ad Infinitum.
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Chapter 9Charlie slept the sleep of the exhausted and the drugged. His primary care physician, Dr. Stedman, showed up during his lunch break from the office. He read Charlie's chart, examined him while he slept, and conferred with Drs. Simpson and Graham. Charlie's exhaustion and malnutrition led them to decide to leave him on an IV for another 24 hours, and postpone the physical therapy visit until the next morning.
It was almost 2 in the afternoon before Charlie woke up again, and then it was because a nurse made him. Don helped her transfer Charlie to a wheelchair, and she spent at least 10 minutes with him in the bathroom. Both Charlie and the nurse had insisted they did not need Don's further assistance, but he watched the door and listened for thumps, worried. Alan fussed with Charlie's bed and did the same thing.
Finally, the two emerged again. Charlie was looking a little more awake and alert, and a lot more like he was reconnecting with his body. Lines of pain were evident in his face. Still, the nurse all but demanded that he sit up for another half hour, and accepted Don's help again to get Charlie into the larger chair next to the bed. Once she had him settled, she patted him lightly on the IV arm. "I'm going to bring you some gelatin and a nutritional shake," she informed him, her eyes glinting in a hardness that scared Don, a little, "and you are going to consume them." She eyed Don and Alan. "Have you gentlemen eaten?"
"Yes, thank-you," Alan answered, sounding a little apprehensive himself. This was one frightening nurse. "My son ran down to the cafeteria and brought up some sandwiches." She nodded and left them for awhile, and Alan scooted a hard, plastic chair into a better position to face Charlie.
He sat down and regarded his son. "I think you'd better try hard to eat whatever she brings you," he said. "That woman scares me."
Don, moving his own chair into position, smiled a little and checked Charlie. His brother looked a little shell-shocked. "Hmmmfff," Charlie grunted, looking at Alan, and then Don. "You should try being locked in the bathroom with her. You people have to help me."
Don laughed out loud. The comment was…so Charlie. God, he had missed that. None of the Eppes men were sufficiently trained for the depth of psychological floodwaters they had suddenly found themselves immersed in, the last couple of days.
The nurse came crashing back through the door, and Don soon found himself holding a dish of green gelatin while Charlie gripped a small, plastic bottle with a straw sticking out of it and pointing at him. The woman stood before them and checked her watch. "I'll be back," she said, looking and sounding so much like Arnold Schwarzzaneger that Don actually felt chills. "20 minutes." She turned and flounced away, and Don looked at Charlie.
He already had the straw in his mouth.
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Don was holding the empty bottle, now, and Charlie was chasing the gelatin cubes with a spoon. The small bowl was on his lap, and his one-handed attempts were actually a little funny, until the dish flipped upside down and dumped the gelatin in his lap. He stared at it, horrified. "You people have to help me," he said again, and Don suppressed a smile.
Alan leaned over and carefully scraped the gelatin back into the bowl. He stood and started for the trash can. "You're not eating this now," he said. "I'm your father, and I say the drink and half the gelatin is enough; a good beginning. We'll get you something else later."
"Don't throw it there," Charlie pleaded. "She'll see it. Can't you…wash it down the sink, or something?"
Alan started to tell Charlie he was being silly, but then remembered the nurse. He would bet that she had received her training via the military. He blinked, and headed for the bathroom.
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Charlie was asleep again less than a minute after he was transferred back to bed. The nurse was still adjusting pillows. Despite Charlie's current state, despite her rather brusque manner so far, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a needle, uncapped it and injected some pain medication into his IV port. "It's time," she explained to Alan and Don. "This will keep him asleep, but he needs that." Both men were relieved to learn that she was not without mercy.
Don actually fell asleep himself that afternoon, once he had moved into the larger, more comfortable chair that Charlie had vacated. Alan watched them both for awhile before he shifted in his chair and retrieved the book Don had picked up earlier that day in the hospital gift shop.
When Don woke up almost two hours after he had fallen asleep, Charlie was looking at him, his head turned toward him on the pillow. "You okay?" he asked softly, and Don smiled.
"Yeah." He stretched a little in the chair. "Just thought you had a good idea, for once. How about you?"
Charlie dropped his eyes, and seemed to inhale a deep breath. "I want you both to know I'm sorry. Dad is always telling me to sleep, and eat. I didn't know something like this could happen, honestly."
Alan had risen from his chair and approached the head of the bed when he saw that both sons were awake. He stood between them and dropped a hand on the sheet over Charlie's leg. "I hope you're not waiting for us to tell you that we understand. That it's all-right."
Charlie raised his eyes to him. "I'm not. I know it's not all-right, and I promise you, this lesson is learned. I'll take better care of myself." He looked at Don, again, and his eyes glistened with suppressed emotion. "I'm so sorry that you had to see that. It must have been…"
He couldn't seem to come up with the word he wanted, so Don provided a few. "Horrifying. Overwhelming. Terrifying. Sickening. Shit, Charlie, you scared the hell out of me." He saw his brother flapping his arms again in preparation for take-off, and shuddered.
Charlie swallowed, and let his eyes drop to Don's casted arm. "How did that happen?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Don admitted. "The report says you almost took me with you, and an LAPD officer grabbed me, brought me down hard on the edge of the roof." He regretted his blunt honesty immediately.
His father hadn't heard that part of the story yet, and the blood drained out of his face. Charlie made a sound of pained distress and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears poured out of them anyway. "G-G-God," he cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm s-s-s-sorry…"
Don fought his way out of the chair and touched first his father, and then carefully ran his uncasted hand through Charlie's hair. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you guys like that. Look, I'm here, it's all right. Come on, guys."
Charlie turned his head away from him and fought for control. Don felt his father's arm snake around his waist. He chased Charlie's head and brushed a tear from his brother's face. Charlie had seemed so…normal…today, the times he had been awake. Don's words had managed to end that, and he was sorry. "Buddy. I'm all right."
"N-No thanks to m-me," Charlie mumbled to the wall, not looking at either of them. "You deserve better. I almost k-k-killed you." His shoulders shook, and giant sobs began to overtake him.
Alan let go of Don and crossed to the other side of the bed. He let the rail down and perched on the edge. Carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking him, he drew Charlie up into a sitting position and his arms encircled his son. Charlie's head lolled against his chest, and Alan gently rocked him, saying nothing. His sad eyes met Don's over Charlie's head, and a hand rubbed tiny circles on Charlie's back. Don stared helplessly back at his father, and the two of them listened to Charlie's heart break.
