Author's Note: First of all, shout-out to Valerie E. Mackin for reading through this, your feedback behind the scenes really helped to extend this chapter even further. Second, I'm so freaking proud of this chapter in particular that I've decided to post it a couple of days early. Third, this is the longest chapter I've written to date so I apologize in advance if it seems more than a little lengthy. Finally, if you have not done so already, go check out Valerie E. Mackin's magnificent literary works of art, just don't read them before bedtime ;) As always, comments & reviews welcome, PM me with any suggestions you may have.
Chapter 21
Today was Saturday and he still had not woken up yet. Dr. Nguyen said that with such extensive injuries it was just his body's way of healing itself and he would wake up when he was ready. He told us that if it was any consolation at least he was breathing on his own; I supposed it was nice to know that but it just served to piss his brother off even more. I hated having to leave his brother Wednesday morning, but I had to work and I just hated being in hospitals anyway; they creeped me out too much after watching my mom recover from her brain tumor when I was five. I had told Charlie what happened and he followed me up on Wednesday night with the traditional 'get well soon' flowers. Why do people bring flowers to someone who isn't even awake to see them? For me it was just a sad reminder that he was stuck here for an undetermined amount of time and for his brother they just made him bitter. He had his faith to fall back on, but as each day passes by he just gets angrier at the world.
Their boss, co-workers, Doc, Rocco, and some of the other guys at McGinty's came by for some brief visits. They all took their respective turns offering their condolences to his brother but his anger didn't really boil up to the surface until last night when their boss came up after work saying something about how "Rosie's been put on a leave of absence until further notice." Granted he was prone to have his outbursts while he waited on pins and needles for his brother to wake up, but even I would not have been that stupid to mention the name of the person who did this until after the fact he was already in the bar with more than a few drinks in him.
Rocco and Doc came up here every night, usually arriving about twenty minutes after I did. Neither of them would stay for very long, just long enough to see how we were all doing, if either of us needed anything from home and if the doctor had any sort of good news in light of what had happened. I saw the relief wash over their faces when the doctor came in Wednesday night around 9:00 to tell us that the swelling on his brain had subsided but was going to wait until Thursday morning to see what the MRI showed; his was the first on the schedule so if everything looked okay the doctor would talk with a few colleagues about having the drainage tube removed.
It was something to look forward to after I took into consideration the fact that shortly after leaving the hospital Monday night to go home, I couldn't even make it five minutes down the road before the head nurse was calling me to tell me to come, get his brother and take him home with me. After turning the car around and going back to the hospital, I found him backed up in one corner of the room trying to fend off hospital security and a nurse telling him visiting hours were over.
"Everybody out, just get the fuck out and let me talk to him," once everyone had left the room and the door was shut I dropped my things on the floor and went about trying to talk him down off of the ledge he was perched on. "You cannot act like a maniac in here, do you understand me? You and I both know that's a fast pass to give them license not to let you back in here. Fucking calm down and sit your ass down in the chair; say your prayers, call your mom, do something but you will not act like a caged animal as long as he is lying in that bed. I told you earlier today that you have to be the strong one and that means you have to keep your shit together. If you're going to act like that, you can either go outside and scream your head off or you can take my car and go home. Make your choice."
"I'm not fucking going anywhere until he wakes up." He plopped back down in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. The anger seethed unfiltered as his eyes darted around the room, seemingly trying to find an object to focus on that was not a piece of medical equipment.
"You know what? You're coming home with me, right now. I am not in any mood to be putting up with your shit tonight. Whether you like it or not, you have to work in the morning and if you don't come with me on your own free-will I will have security strap you down to a gurney and wheel you out to my car. If you don't want to sleep, fine I'll drop you off at the bar and you can drown yourself in alcohol."
"I'm not fucking going anywhere until he wakes up." He repeated, but at least he had finally uncrossed his arms. "I don't want him to wake up to an empty room and not know where he is, what's going on, or where any familiar face is. Boss told me not to come back until after he woke up."
Scrubbing my hands over my face in a vain effort to wake up a little bit I offered to stay the night with him to set his mind at ease. "The room will not be empty, I'll be a familiar face, and if he starts asking questions I can answer them for you. Just get the hell out of here and go home. You can come back at the ass crack of dawn as long as you promise to keep a level head."
We fought like this just about every night around the same time; it took nearly an hour for me each night to convince him to just take my car and go home; he hadn't left his brother's side much except to use the bathroom or when I told him to go home. We would take it in shifts, he would stay for the bulk of the day and I would come up after work so he could get a few hours' worth of restless sleep. Anything he ate or drank was what I brought him from either the cafeteria or leftovers that I made from the night before. He made me promise over and over again to call him if anything happened, even if it was for something as small as a muscle twitching.
The window of his room looked out onto the parking lot, so I had a perfect view of where my car was parked; now it was just a matter of playing the waiting game for him to take the car and leave. I watched as his figure made its way out to the parking lot and to my car; the headlights came on and my little car disappeared into the night. Turning away from the window, I made my way back over to the bed and sat on the edge watching the heart monitor sound out the rhythmic beating of his heart. The drainage tube had been removed Thursday afternoon after his MRI scan showed no further fluid build-up but he was still pretty bruised up and he looked ridiculous with his head half shaved.
The doctors and nurses all made their rounds about 20 minutes later; they had come to know his brother and I pretty well in the short amount of time that he's been here in the ICU. They knew one of us was going to stay with him all day and all night no matter what their visiting hours policy was, I was just grateful that it was me they allowed to stay the night rather than his brother after the blow out that happened on Tuesday night. Maybe it was because I was able to kick his brother out at night or maybe it was because a couple of them mistook the ring on my hand for being a wedding band and assumed that we were married; I never bothered to correct them because then they probably would have kicked me out and his brother never would've left.
When the last of the nursing staff made her rounds, I quietly closed the door behind her in the vain hope of getting a little bit of peace and quiet from the codes that were loudly announced throughout the night. I retreated back to the bed but rather than sitting in the chair or sitting on the edge again, I climbed in and laid down next to him. As stupid as it may seem, I needed to hear his heart beating against his chest for myself rather than rely on a machine to tell me he's still alive and breathing. The sound alone was enough to relax my shot nerves enough that I was able to close my eyes for a little bit.
I'm not sure how long I was out for or remember falling asleep for that matter, but when I woke up I could feel something brushing lightly against the side of my arm and hear the steady rhythm of the heart monitor begin to increase. Lifting my head while trying to be mindful of the leads and wires that poked out all over the place was a difficult task to accomplish at 2:00 in the morning, but when I was finally able too I saw a pair of hooded blue eyes staring at me. I gave him a small smile and reached for the bed controls hidden somewhere in the thin covers pressing the button for the nurses' station.
"Everything okay, ma'am?" the nurse asked upon knocking and entering the room.
"He's awake. Could you call his brother, please and get the doctor?"
The nurse gave a slightly enthusiastic nod and left the room, closing the door behind her. I put my head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat grow stronger; neither of us saying anything to the other. I wanted to tell him something along the lines of 'welcome back to the land of the living,' but at this point I wasn't sure what the extent of his injuries would be now that he was awake. The doctor's words about the injury possibly causing problems with his speech left me unsure of whether or not he'd be able to say anything back to me. The nurse came back a couple of minutes later saying that his brother wanted to talk to me and also that the doctor was on his way along with a speech therapist and a physical therapist. I had no idea a therapist of any kind would be on call at this hour of the morning, but I guess all hospitals operate differently.
The short walk to the nurses' station was filled with doubt. Had I done the right thing by asking them to call his brother at this hour of the morning? Was my mind playing tricks on me and I just imagined the whole thing about him being awake? Sighing to myself, I picked the receiver up from the desk and brought it to my ear, answering with a rather shaky 'hello.'
"Is he really awake? Did he say anyt'ing to ya at all? Is he wondering where I am?"
"Yeah, he's awake so you need to get your ass up here to come and see him. He hasn't said a word to me or anyone; I honestly couldn't tell you how long he's been awake for. I'm sure he's wondering where you are; at least I would be if I were him. I've got to go, the doctor's on his way and you need to hurry up. Just promise me that you won't wreck my car on the mad dash here."
When I returned to the room, I found the doctor and the therapists standing around his bed asking him question after question; they ranged from do you know your name to can you say your name and constantly asking him to move different parts of his body. I know they were just trying to do their respective jobs, but just watching this unfold was overwhelming. He caught my eye and I could see the panic start to set in just as the doctor was watching his heartrate rise on the monitor, telling him to calm down.
"His brother is on his way up, can these questions wait until he gets here? I mean the poor man just woke up and I think he'd rather see his brother first before he starts showing off his fancy set of dance moves for us and breaks into a medley of show tunes."
The trio agreed to return in an hour saying that should be plenty of time for his brother to get to the hospital and see a much more familiar face rather than that of a stranger's. I closed the door behind them and sat down in the chair next to the bed, glancing over as he struggled to get himself into an upright position that was more comfortable than the way he was laying now. I pressed the button on the side of the bed to bring it all the way down so he could push himself up towards the top then proceeded to raise it back up when he nodded.
We sat in an uncomfortable silence until his brother came bursting through the door looking no worse for wear than when he left. I had to warn him to be careful of the wires before he grabbed his brother in a bear hug of sorts, nearly squeezing the life out of him.
"Do you remember anyt'ing dat happened?"
"Just remember giving Rosie shit like we usually do, having da craic at her expense, den da next t'ing I know its lights out. What da fuck happened?"
"Dat fat, angry lesbian thumped you a good one; took a swing at da back of yer head with a piece of metal while yer back was turned. Doc said da only t'ing dat might've saved yer life was part of it broke off in yer skull; kept ya from bleeding to death."
"Guess dat explains why me head fucking hurts. How long was I out fer?"
"Nearly a week," I answered, "they had to cut a hole in the back of your head and insert a drainage tube. I don't want to get into all of this right now but 'the fat, angry lesbian' as you put it damn near killed you so I sincerely hope this serves as a wake-up call for the both of you to not test the patience of someone who already doesn't like you."
"I was just trying ta have a bit of fun, lighten da mood up a bit. It may have been a Monday, but dat doesn't mean ya have ta act like it's a Monday. What all happened while I was out? I could hear voices, but I couldn't put names and faces to 'em."
"I think we should let the doctor best answer that when he comes back. I will tell you though that this one was nothing short of a blubbering mess in between getting completely shit-faced at the bar. If you are going to give him shit about crying, wait until you're out of the hospital and the doctors say you're well enough to go back to work. I'm going to see if they have anything decent to drink in the vending machines, do either of you want anything while I'm up?"
"Anyt'ing but water, I'd rather have food if ya don't mind."
I nodded my head, got up from my chair, and left the room closing the door behind me. The vending machines were at the other end of the hall, but I decided to take my time on my way there. I needed some time to process everything. I was thrilled that he was finally awake, but I don't think he fully understands the gravity of the situation. This fat, angry bitch damn near killed him and he's acting like it's just another day at the office. Maybe that was just his coping mechanism but I wish he could see what all happened through the eyes of everyone else, maybe even had an out of body experience. His brother really did try to be strong for the both them however he just couldn't do it whether it was because his anger had finally got the best of him or there was some other reason that he didn't want to have to justify to anyone else.
I had called their mom Monday night when I was finally able to leave the room long enough to find a pay phone to let her know what happened and to get some advice on what I should or could do. I had gotten her number from their boss since she was listed as their emergency contact, though I'm not sure what all she could do from an ocean away. The best that she could offer me was to just be there for the both of them and kick their sorry asses when they needed it; I think she was too shell-shocked to say much of anything else though she did ask that I try to call her every couple of days and let her know how they were both doing. The boys had told me that she was quite the lush and she had sounded quite drunk when I called her. She sobered up pretty quick after I told her what happened. She had even gone so far as to say that she would get on the next plane here to beat the perpetrator with her own bare hands. Note to self: never stand in the way of anger, Irish mama bear protecting her cubs (no matter how old they are).
She did tell me though that their uncle was a priest and she would let him know as well what all was happening; said that despite the distance they would make sure to say enough prayers for the boys to last for a while and offered to say one for me as well. Despite my attempted protests that it wasn't necessary she told me that even though the two of them liked to cause trouble for those around them that the women they brought into their lives were few and far between, besides her, they only had a few scarce cousins and a couple of aunts. That they both needed a strong, stable woman in their lives to remind them that it was okay for them to hurt and it was okay for them to feel pain no matter how much they had tried to cover it up. Before we hung up, she had asked again that I keep her updated on his progress as much as I could, "da phone bill is gonna be outrageous dis month but it'll be worth it to know me boys are alive and as well as can be."
I stood at the vending machines contemplating what to get even though there was really nothing in there that appealed to me, I just had to get out that room and let those two have some time to themselves, besides I don't think it'd be too early to call their mom and let her know that her precious babe was alive and talking. Granted it's, like, 7:00 in the morning in Ireland right now but considering the circumstances, I don't think she'd mind the phone ringing at this hour on a Sunday morning. Maybe she'd be able to lighten the depressing mood I've found myself in because these two were just making it worse with their nonchalant attitudes. She had been telling me one story after another about their childhood to help keep my mind from dwelling on the present situation. Inserting the crisp dollar bill into the cash slot, I slapped the button labeled as Minute Maid apple juice waiting for it drop into the slot at the bottom of the machine before repeating the action twice more.
As I stopped outside the door I could hear them talking in hushed tones, muttering in German about something. I waited a few more seconds before rapping the backs of my knuckles against the door. Hearing them both call out "come in," I grasped the handle to the door, shuffling the three bottle of juice around in my arms before entering and shutting the door behind me. Glancing up, everything seemed to still be as it was when I left, however the atmosphere seemed to have shifted though in which direction I couldn't be sure. It was best to leave well enough alone and let them tell me what was going on if they needed an ear to bend. I sat back in my respective chair by the bed and waited in silence for the doctors to return, occasionally nodding off when the room would grow quiet enough.
The doctor and therapists all returned exactly one hour later as they had promised and asked him if was ready to start singing and dancing for all of us. His brother looked at us confused before I told him that I'd explain it to him later. The physical therapist spent about 15 minutes testing out his reflexes and seeing what he could and could not move. His brother and I were more than relieved just to see him at least wiggling his fingers and toes; he was promised that if he could move his ankles that they may try to get him out of bed in the morning to get the blood flowing again to minimize the risk of clots forming in his legs that could break off and travel to his lungs; while he was out they had been pushing blood thinners every so often to do the same thing.
The speech therapist got absolutely nowhere with him; she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't feel like talking or if the brain injury had caused him to lose his speech all together. The three of us knew though that it was just a ruse and he didn't feel like talking. Even though he was a pretty social butterfly, he wasn't much of one when it came to situations like this. The times that I had gone with them to the hospital after a night out drinking, he hadn't spoken much unless it was to either Michael or Sandra and even then it was still like pulling teething trying to get him to say why he was there.
This one night I had met up with them at McGinty's on payday, some jock douchebag had tried hitting on me. I was already on my third Long Island tea by the time he came in and was feeling pretty bold; add to that I was in an Irish bar surrounded by Irishmen and Rocco, I was feeling pretty confident with myself. Apparently he didn't think I was too funny when I started checking his man card, as Rocco had put it. When I had stumbled off my bar stool to head to the bathroom, he tried to swing on me from behind. He who had defended my honor that night ended up with a fat lip, black eye, and a partially fractured wrist. I had to be the one to tell the doctors and police at the hospital exactly what happened that night because he suddenly decided to take a vow of silence until we left. When I asked him why he didn't say anything, he told me that he doesn't like to talk to people he didn't really know; said that something just seemed off them and decided to let my drunk ass do all the talking.
The doctor that he was assigned to cleared him to move out of the ICU and into a regular room where he could make some better progress and get out much quicker. My best guess would be that they wanted to free up the room for someone else who needed it and since they figured he was awake and moving on his own then he didn't need to be in there anymore. The doctor wanted to move him up to the seventh floor, the head injury ward, so that they could monitor his progress. I guess it made sense to do that, but I was very apprehensive about the move. It just seemed so sudden that they would make such a hasty decision after he's only been awake for maybe the past two hours, tops. Why not give it a couple of days before moving him out just to make sure nothing happened, that he didn't have something rupture and slipped back into the coma?
"Before I do go and sign off on getting you out of the ICU, just answer me this question: when the speech therapist was asking you what your name was, did you not feel like answering or can you really not speak?"
"Pardon my language doc, but da bastard can talk just fine. He was talking da whole time we were in here by ourselves before y'all showed up. He just doesn't like ta talk when he's being hounded with a million questions coming at him from different directions all at one time."
"Well then if that's the case, and since it's just three other people in the room with you, would you mind telling me what your name is? If you can answer me that question then I will sign these papers right now and get you moved out in the morning."
He clutched the rosary that had remained in his hand for nearly a week and took a deep breath before speaking. I must admit it was good to hear his voice again but I wasn't sure if he was going to give an honest answer or continue to say nothing until after the doctor left.
"Murphy."
"Well Murphy, I'm Dr. Nguyen. It's nice to finally be able to put a voice to the face. I have to tell you though that while you were in a coma, your brother and your…err…friend here never really left your bedside. One of them was with you around the clock, you're very lucky to have people like them around, we have some patients that never have visitors let alone family members stay with them for as long as these two did. I think you were the only patient here who had someone visiting them every day. I know you probably don't want to hear this, but get some rest while you still can. Your physical therapist is going to start getting you out of this bed tomorrow and you're going to need all the strength you can muster. I'll be checking in on you daily to make sure you're progressing the way you should be. Press the call button if you need anything and I will see you later after your therapy sessions."
With that, the doctor left the room, quietly closing the door behind him as the tension that was hanging over all of our heads dissipated. Today was going to be another rough day but at least now I can rest somewhat more easily knowing that he was awake, aware, and functioning. As I was packing my things away to head for home and call their mom, Connor had a light hold on my arm whispering in my ear that Murphy wanted a minute or two alone with me. The door opened and shut behind him as I turned and made my way back to the bed.
Murphy patted a bare spot on the mattress next to his hip, silently asking for me to take a seat next to him. As I went to sit down, I found his hands on my shoulders directing me backwards. Soon I found myself laying down with my head on his chest, much like I was when I was gently brought out my sleep when he woke up. I was being lulled back into sleep while his fingertips were gently running up and down my arm once again. The quiet tones of his voice brought me out of a near-sleep state.
"Connor told me about how he'd come up here in da mornings and find ya sleeping next ta me like dis. Means a lot to know dat you care about da both of us enough ta not only make sure I'm breathing on me own, but also making sure dat Connor didn't starve himself worrying over me. Even t'ough I couldn't say or do anyt'ing while I was out, I could still hear ya both talking and arguing. Heard ya telling him he couldn't act like a maniac, dat he needed ta be strong fer da both of us. Heard ya after he'd leave asking me ta please wake up; I heard everyt'ing and God knows dat I tried ta wake up but I just couldn't. Even t'ough Connor put dis in me hand, I could hear ya rooting around in da bag fer it; we're not da kind of people ta shove our religion down da throats of others but we are grateful dat ya had da wherewithal to t'ink about it. Heard ya telling Connor dat ya don't believe in God or any kind of higher power and I'm okay with dat. You had enough respect fer us and our beliefs to set aside yer own disbeliefs to t'ink about what was important to us.
"I already talked with Connor while you were gone, but what happened while I was out? He told me about what da doctors said, but he couldn't or wouldn't tell me about how da two of ya held up."
The long and short of it was that neither of us did too well. While I was at work or school, my phone never stopped ringing. If it wasn't the hospital asking me to talk Connor down off the ledge it was Rocco calling me from McGinty's asking the same thing. Drunk or sober, Connor was a mess. It had gotten to the point one night, I think Thursday, that I actually had to lay my hand across his face. It seemed like the thing to do at the time, but looking back I wish I had done it sooner.
I on the other hand, held up about as well as a house of cards in gale force winds. Aside from keeping Connor from completely losing his shit, all of their friends decided to unload themselves onto me as well. I may as well have gone about setting up a booth inside the room with a sign that says the doctor was in; instead of charging a nickel for each "session" it'd be closer to $10.00 an hour. In all honesty, I never had the chance to release any type of emotion whether it'd be tears from fear or exhaustion; anger towards the person that caused this chain of events to unfold. I was an emotional wreck and I was so busy taking care of everyone else that knew Murphy that I had no time to comprehend for myself what had happened.
I had reminded Murphy that this was just the long and short of it all; maybe as he progressed with his rehab either Connor or myself would be more willing to disclose everything but this was as far as I was willing to go for the time being.
"Thank you fer staying with us dis past week, I don't t'ink either of us would've been able ta keep it together fer very long without ya."
I nodded my head against his chest letting his words sink in. Once I was sure that I could no longer stand the silence, I lifted my head up and pressed a kiss to his right cheek and climbed out of the bed. I told him that I was going home for the night and that I'd be back after I made my rounds letting Doc, Rocco, and the rest of the boys know what was going on. I purposely left out that I was going to call their mom to let her know what was going on as well. As I left the room, Connor stood outside the door. I felt my hand stretch out without even thinking about the action, reaching out and latching onto his arm, giving it a small squeeze before turning down the hall to leave. Neither of us said a word to the other as I was leaving but there was a mutual understanding between the two of us. We both understood that the tides had changed and things between the three of us were never going to be the same; there was no going back. The point of no return.