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Chapter 21

Mercedes pushed through the staff room door pulling her black hair up into a high bun as she walked. It was almost time for her shift to begin. Since she hadn't been to see Sam since the previous night, she wanted to spend a few extra minutes with him before she had to go to work.

Usually she liked to stop in during the morning to have breakfast with him. Before the accident it had been their routine to get up each morning and have breakfast, even if Mercedes were not scheduled to work until much later in the day. It was their little slice of time before the world came crashing in. Sam had a stressful job. He usually returned home in the evenings cranky and tense. So Mercedes had come up with the idea to start each day off with a smile. Sometimes that smile meant waffles and bacon or big bowls of Lucky Charms. Other times it meant a few rounds of breakfast in bed. It was something they never skipped, and Mercedes wasn't about to start now.

This morning she had been out of sorts. She just couldn't make it to the hospital without being late to the courthouse. And after enduring Quinn's verbal assault, Mercedes felt an overwhelming need to spend time with Beth, so she missed stopping by the hospital that afternoon as well. Hours later she was finally going to see Sam. Feeling more than a little guilty it had taken her so long, Mercedes finally reached Sam's room. She pushed open the door slightly leading with her shoulder, pausing when she heard Dwight's voice inside.

"My son I really missed you today. The Tamagatchi deal was up for renegotiations. The one you and Puck closed a couple of years back. They were playing hardball, but I didn't relent. Got them to agree to all of our terms. I wish you could have seen it." He paused, looking over at Sam motionless on the bed, sighing deeply before he began again.

"I guess we better get back to our story." Mercedes slipped a little more through the door as Dwight began to read, still careful not to startle him.

"I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do," read Dwight.

Mercedes came fully inside and firmly shut the door behind her, alerting Dwight to her presence.

"Mercedes, I didn't know you would be here tonight." Dwight turned in his chair to address her.

"I just started my shift," she said as she walked over to the bed and kissed Sam on the forehead, stroking his hair back before she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I thought you had stopped working nights."

"My father wanted me to. He tried to rig my schedule. But I put a stop to it. I don't need any special favors."

"Nice to see a young person with a work ethic. I was starting to think that your entire generation was comprised solely of degenerates and slackers."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and smiled.

She leaned over and looked at the reader Dwight had in his hands. "What are you reading today?"

"To Kill A Mockingbird again. Couldn't get this contraption to pull anything else up. I wanted to read him some Faulkner, maybe A Rose for Emily."

"Didn't Beiste show you how to use that kindle when she gave it to you?" asked Mercedes taking the kindle from his hand. She clicked through it and found the book of short stories Dwight wanted and handed it back to him.

"It's just not natural to have all these books in one little machine. I miss pages. Nothing like the crackle of paper."

"Is Marcel getting dinner?" Mercedes asked suddenly noting the man's absence.

"I fired that blasted man today."

"Not another one. What happened this time?" she asked frowning.

"I came in here this evening to find my son in the dark with nothing but the TV blaring. Apparently Marcel had some emergency and had to leave. Should've never hired that Frenchman," snarled Dwight.

"He's actually from Belgium. Did you play the tape?"

"I didn't bother. I'll check the remote file on my computer at the house later."

Mercedes pulled Sam's chart from the foot of the bed and flipped through it. His vitals were steady and unchanged. "Everything seems fine maybe the nurses got too busy to come in and close the blinds and turn on the lights at sundown."

"I don't pay these people to be too busy. My son gets top priority or my support of this hospital will cease. This is why I want him at the house with me. Sam needs to be at home."

"Dwight we have talked about this. I'm here so often it's just easier. And what if something happened? It would waste precious time getting an ambulance out to the mansion. Here he's always surrounded by doctors."

They had debated this issue for months. Usually a patient in Sam's condition would have been moved to a long term care facility by now. Dwight's stance was definitely understandable. Mercedes just felt that Sam was better off at the hospital within reach of the finest physicians in the Midwest. Things could go wrong so suddenly. She knew that all too well since the accident. Just when you think you're safe, everything can change. She couldn't take any more sudden changes, not with Sam.

"The agency is sending a replacement tomorrow. Probably just as incompetent as all the rest," said Dwight.

At one point it seemed like they were going through a nurse a month. Dwight was never satisfied with Sam's care. Marcel had lasted the longest. Mercedes had thought they had finally found the right fit.

"I'm here until 7am. I promise you Sam will be fine."

"You look tired," Dwight noted.

"I had a TBI exam. Up late cramming." Mercedes rubbed Sam's thigh as she spoke watching him closely for any hint of a response.

"I wish you would just stop with those classes. You are wearing yourself out. I will continue to bring in every specialist in the world. You don't have to keep going to all these seminars and taking these courses."

"I need to know how to better take care of him. Traumatic brain injuries are tricky. I want to make sure I'm doing all I can."

"We can get more staff from the agency. You should not have to take care of this yourself."

"I want to." She shook her head and amended. "I need to. No agency nurse is going care about Sam's recovery as much as I do. Besides Sam knows me. I want him to feel safe and comfortable."

"If all of this gets to be too much the offer still stands." Dwight stood, patting Sam on the shoulder before heading toward the door.

Mercedes wanted to strangle Marcel. How could he just leave and not call her? She didn't want Dwight to know how upset she actually was, but she was glad he had fired him. Mercedes hated how people, even health care professionals, treated comatose patients like they were mannequins posed in a bed. Sam had rights and needs like anyone else. He didn't deserve to be left alone and unattended. Especially not in the dark.

"Mercedes shifted closer to Sam on the bed, her hip brushing his as she sat. "Looks like it's just me and you all night. What mischief should we get up to?" Sam slowly turned toward Mercedes, as if in response to her words.

"Oh you like that idea? You want to spend the night with me?" she asked reaching up and stroking his hair gently.

She would have to get someone to cover her shift. Hopefully, Malika would help her out again. Mercedes usually was able to handle her patient rounds and pop in and out during her shifts to visit Sam. But that was when Marcel was around, or Jean, or before that Anne Marie. Mercedes hated leaving Sam alone. Although, he couldn't respond to the world around him, Mercedes knew that Sam was processing it all in some way. So little was known about what actually happens to the brain while in a coma, but from all of her research and numerous seminars one thing was clear, Sam needed to be constantly stimulated. So she put on the television, let him hear the scores on Sportscenter or music from his favorite bands. She tried to always touch him while in the room, stroking his hair, his face, holding his hands. She wanted him to feel her presence. And of course she talked, constantly, hoping one day he would sit up and tell her to shut up.

She pulled a small bottle of lotion out of her pocket and squeezed some into her palm. Taking one of Sam's hands she began massaging the cream into his skin.

"Vanilla lavender. Doesn't that smell good?" She reached over and grabbed his other hand, giving it the same treatment. "Now no cracks about it being too girly. You always liked this scent on me. Remember how you used to say my perfume lingered all of over you and no matter where you were it was like I was right next to you?"

She looked up at his face, pale and gaunt, his cheekbones now angular ridges on his face. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, no other change. At least he looked peaceful. Mercedes often wondered if he were in distress or feeling pain and just couldn't let anyone know. For months since the accident she had recurring nightmares about Sam trapped inside the car, beating on the glass, yelling soundlessly for her to save him, his eyes wide in horror as he free fell into an abyss. What if he were reliving those same images this whole time, unable to wake from his torment?

"We're not even going to talk about court today. It didn't go as expected and really there's no need to dwell on that. Let's talk about something good. Like Beth. Your daughter actually sat up by herself for one whole minute today. I think she forgot the pillows were there, got all confident and just leaned forward to get to her toes. No propping needed. Isn't that amazing?"

Sam opened his eyes. It no longer startled Mercedes to look up and unexpectedly see his green eyes open, searching some unknown horizon that only existed within his mind. There were many things that Sam could do. He moved in his bed, rolling to lie on his side. He yawned, sneezed, even cried. Most medical scholars believed these were just reflex actions, and maybe some were, but Mercedes had to believe Sam was in there somewhere. With her. He had to be.

"I think she's starting to know your photo. She's always reaching for it now. I promise to bring her to visit again real soon. Don't you worry your daughter will know you, and she will love you so much when you come back to us." She intertwined her fingers through his, forcing his stiff fingers to close around hers. "We're all waiting patiently. But really Sam don't you think it's been long enough? I want you to see Beth's first steps and hear her first words." She paused to fight back the tears that were starting to form. "Of course I'm taking tons of photos and videotaping everything. You haven't missed a thing. Promise. Speaking of video, should we watch your recording for today?" she asked grabbing the remote from the table beside the bed. Mercedes flipped on the digital recording playback.

One of the first seminars Mercedes had attended in Chicago for caregivers and families of comatose and vegetative patients stressed the importance of videotaping. They believed the tapes were necessary to provide visual proof of all the subtle ways patients reacted to stimuli. Too many doctors simply ignored the statements from their patients' families about motor response, often dismissing it as simply involuntary actions. The experts at the seminars challenged families to take matters into their own hands and provide evidence.

Dwight latched onto the idea right away, more as a means of security, than anything else. He hated that Sam was a sitting duck for D&E's enemies. Mercedes didn't have time to worry about D&E Industries business. She only wanted to document Sam's progress. To prove that Sam was still there, fighting to recover. She wouldn't let anyone give up on him, no matter how hopeless it seemed or how long it had been.

"Ok let's play what we recorded today. Since I missed visiting you earlier today, I want to see how your day went."

As the file rewound, she massaged Sam's arms and upper torso, looking back over her shoulder occasionally to see the file's progress. It was then she saw something. Thinking it was probably a glitch, Mercedes picked up the remote from the bed and hit pause. There captured on screen was Quinn draped across her husband's chest.

She had come to visit Sam again.