I am so sorry for all of this.
Also, big shoutout to everyone who reads this and reviews regularly. It means the world to me and you guys are the real reason I keep writing.
Crutchie looked down at his phone. It was almost 5:00am. He sighed; he was grateful it was a Sunday, so he wouldn't be missing any classes, but depending on how the day went, he might have to skip his Monday classes after all. He and Katherine and Race were sitting in the waiting room with Davey's family, who had showed up half an hour ago. They still hadn't gotten the chance to see Davey, as no one was allowed in his and Spot's room at the moment. The police had showed up, needing to talk to Spot about the situation. It didn't look good, but it was still too soon to tell what exactly was going to happen to him. Crutchie hoped for the best, even if the best did look bleak.
Another twenty minutes passed and they were all allowed back into the room, Davey's parents rushing in to see him. Davey had lied down, complaining of a headache. Davey's parents wouldn't look at Spot, pretending like he wasn't in the room. There was an uncomfortable tension, Crutchie could feel it, but no one was willing to address it. Not yet.
Spot sat on his bed, crumpling the bed sheets in his hands. The images of what happened kept replaying in his head. A loud horn and bright lights coming towards them on their right. Spot turned to look as the car hit, sending their vehicle flying to the side. It all happened so fast, he didn't even register when he hit his head. All he knew was that something was dripping down his face, and was vaguely aware of Davey's screams suddenly cut off. He looked to his right, over to see Jack. The car had hit his side; Spot called out name, screamed it over and over again.
But Jack didn't answer.
"So?" Race asked, sitting down on the bed next to Spot, pulling him out of his thoughts suddenly, causing him to jerk. Spot didn't look up at him, finding something more interesting in the floor tiles to stare at.
"Look at me, Spot," Race commanded. "What did they say?"
"My BAC was 0.06," Spot mumbled. "Says I'se probably gonna get charged with reckless driving."
"That's better than a DUI," Race said. "And this was your first offense, so maybe they'll let you off easy?"
Spot shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."
Race looked around the room; he could feel the eyes of Davey's parents burning into his back. They were talking in hushed voices to Davey, too quiet for Race to hear. With a huff, Race stood up and grabbed the curtain divider, closing it around Spot's bed.
Spot looked up, Race now taking a seat on the bed in front of him. "Now, you listen to me, and you listen good," Race said quietly. "You'se gotta shitload of troubles coming your way, and there ain't nothing I can do to help you. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. You saw Davey's family out there? They was scared to death when they came in here, thinking that something terrible had happened to their son. And that's on you, you hear me?"
"You ain't telling me nothing I don't already know," Spot snapped. "What are you trying to prove?"
"I'se trying to get it through to your head that you messed up," Race said. "Big time. You better be glad that other driver didn't get hurt or else you'd have more charges pressed against you. Do you realize what you'se done? You could go to jail for this, Spot. At the very least you could lose your job, and you probably will. You certainly ain't driving again no time soon. Who knows if Davey will ever speak to you again. And Jack?" Race paused, his throat feeling suddenly tight. "You ruined lives tonight, Spot, and it wasn't just yours."
Spot didn't say anything, looking down at his hands to avoid Race's eyes.
"Look at me," Race snapped. "Do you hear me? You ruined lives! I ain't never seen no one cry as hard as Crutchie did tonight. This is going to go on your record for life! All because you had to be stupid and try to drive when you shouldn't have!"
Spot fidgeted with the edge of his sheets. "I'se sorry," he mumbled, still not looking up at Race.
"The hell, you better be sorry!" Race cried. "When Katherine called me, I thought you was dead! I thought you was all dead and I would never get to see the one person I care about in this stupid world more than anything again! Sorry won't fix that, sorry won't fix any of it. You could have been dead and then where would I be? What the hell would I do without you, Spot?"
Spot grasped the sheets in his hands, clenching his fists tightly. "I'se sorry," he mumbled again.
"To hell with your sorry!" Race snapped, hitting Spot in the shoulder. "To hell with you and your stupid excuses!" He hit Spot again, and again, each swing growing weaker and weaker as he began to break down. He crashed into Spot's chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly and crying. Spot sat there, stunned, hanging his head low and slowly wrapping his arms around Race.
"I'se so sorry," Spot repeated, burying his face into Race's hair. "I'se so, so sorry."
"Screw you and your sorrys," Race mumbled, his voice muffled against Spot's chest.
Crutchie and Katherine stood by the door of their room, neither of them knowing what to do. Occasionally Sarah would look up at Katherine, her eyes pleading for some sort of reassurances. Katherine would only smile in return, not knowing what else she could do to make things better.
Crutchie felt numb, barely registering anything that was going on around him. He distracted himself with thoughts of school, and the test that was waiting for him on Monday. Had he studied enough? Would it even matter? Was he going to show up at all? He barely felt like he had the energy to stand, let alone go to class. Maybe things would be better by then? But somehow, he doubted it. Would things ever get better after this?
The room door slowly pushed itself open, and everyone immediately straightened up, all looking over at the doctor who had entered the room.
"Good morning," the doctor said, trying to sound pleasant. It was a valiant effort, but didn't quite achieve its goal.
Hearing the doctor, Race got up and pushed the curtain back, standing with apprehension.
"What's the news?" Davey asked, slowly pulling himself out of bed and walking over to the doctor, his face lined with worry.
"Your friend is awake now," the doctor informed them. "But it looks like he has a moderate traumatic brain injury and multiple lacerations, as well as a broken wrist."
"What does that mean?" Race asked, concerned.
"A moderate traumatic brain injury means he'll be very dazed and confused for a while," the doctor explained. "As well as nausea, vomiting, drainage, loss of memory, agitation, and possible cognitive losses."
"But, he'll be okay, right?" Race asked.
"I'll want to monitor him for at least the next twenty-four hours," the doctor said. "Mr. Jacobs, you should be good for discharge by later this morning. Mr. Conlon, you should be free to go around the same time as well; I assume the police have already come by and spoken with you?"
Spot nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Can we see him?" Katherine asked. "Can we see Jack?"
The doctor hesitated. "Mr. Sullivan is still very out of it, I'm not sure that would be a good idea just yet."
"Who the hell is Sullivan?" Race asked.
"The third man that was in the car," the doctor explained. "Francis Sullivan."
"No, the third guy in the car was Jack," Race argued. "Jack Kelly."
"Actually," Davey spoke up. "About that . . . that's not his name."
"What the hell you mean that's not his name?" Race asked, confused.
"The name on his birth certificate and ID is Francis Sullivan," Davey explained. "When we arrived, I had to give the doctors that name, not Jack Kelly."
Race stared at him in confusion, looking over between Katherine and Spot, who both nodded in affirmation. He looked over at Crutchie, who appeared just as confused as he felt.
"Why the hell does he got two names?" Race questioned, looking back at Davey.
Davey shrugged. "Katherine and I didn't question it when he asked to be called something different from the name on his application. Just thought it was a personal preference."
"When can we see him?" Katherine asked, looking to the doctor.
"I would give it a few more hours," the doctor advised. "Too much stimulation could make things worse just now."
"I want to see him," Crutchie said firmly.
"That isn't a good idea," the doctor told him.
"I don't care, I want to see him now," Crutchie argued, straightening up.
The doctor sighed. "It would be preferred that family were with him right now. Mr. Jacobs, did you ever hear back from his parents?"
"I left a message on his home phone," Davey said. "But haven't heard anything back."
"You called his home?" Spot asked, sitting up straighter. "Davey, what the hell are you doing?"
"They asked me if he had any family to call, so I did," Davey snapped at him. "I don't see why that's a problem."
"Davey, you idiot," Race muttered. "Of all the people you could have called, that was the last person you should have went to."
"Why? No one tells me anything, so how am I supposed to know?" Davey asked, frustrated.
"Remember what happened a few days ago, at the shop?" Race demanded. "That should have been evidence enough!"
"Stop arguing, both of you," Katherine snapped. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, we're the only ones that are here," she said, looking back to the doctor. "And we would appreciate it if at least a couple of us could go and see him."
The doctor thought about it for a moment. "I would prefer you not, but if you insist. I just ask that you try not to cause him any added stress."
Katherine sighed. "Thank you," she said.
The doctor gave them the room number, which was only down the hall from where they were. Katherine and Crutchie decided to go, Race choosing to stay with Spot for the time being.
When they reached his room, they found Jack sitting up in a bed, listening as a nurse asked him questions. With each answer, Jack would nod or shake his head, occasionally answering verbally, but his words sounded slurred and uncertain. Katherine and Crutchie entered the room, causing Jack to look over at them, and a confused look played across his face.
Crutchie's heart sank. He looked terrible. There were several cuts on his face, quite a few of them with stitches, and his right hand was in a cast. Jack was staring at them blankly, as if he didn't know who they were. A few moments later, though, the recognition seemed to come back, and he pulled up a small smile at them.
"Heya guys," he said, his voice sounding not quite like his own. It was too absent, not charged with emotion like it normally was. Crutchie walked over to his bedside, not saying a word. He and Jack locked eyes for a moment before Crutchie flung himself at him, pulling him into a tight hug, all but falling onto him.
"Whoa, hello," Jack groaned, laughing a little dryly. "Has it been that long since we'se seen each other?"
"I thought you was dead," Crutchie mumbled into Jack's shoulder. "You scared me."
Jack frowned. "But I'se right here," he said.
"But before," Crutchie stammered. "I didn't know what happened to you. You said you would be careful, you promised."
"I was careful," Jack assured him. "They said I had my seatbelt on and everything."
Crutchie smiled, still not letting go of him. The nurse beside them made a disapproving noise, getting up from her seat and heading towards the door.
"If you need anything, Francis, just press the button beside your bed, okay?" she said.
Jack nodded. "I hear ya," he responded, the nurse leaving the room shortly after.
"Since when was your name Francis?" Crutchie asked, pulling away and looking at Jack in the face. He quickly wiped at his eyes, noticing a few stray tears that had sprung out. He didn't want Jack to see him upset; the last thing he needed to do was make Jack worry.
Jack groaned. "They keep calling me that," he said. "I kept telling them my name is Jack, but they won't listen to me."
"Jack, Francis is your first name, remember?" Katherine asked, walking up to the bedside.
"That don't mean I have to like it," Jack complained.
"I don't understand," Crutchie said. "Your name is Jack Kelly, ain't it?"
Jack sighed. "Jack was just a nickname my mother would call me," he explained. "Kelly was my dad's last name."
"So, is Sullivan your mom's name?" Crutchie asked.
Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Snyder would always refer to me as Kelly, though, and I guess it kinda stuck. Who wants a name like Francis Sullivan, anyways?"
"It doesn't suit you," Katherine agreed.
"Hey, where's Davey and Spot?" Jack asked. "I kept asking about them but no one would tell me nothing?"
"They'se down the hall," Crutchie answered. "Doctor says they'll both be discharged in a few hours probably."
"Hmm, lucky them," Jack muttered. "Doctor says I ain't gonna get out for another day or two."
"How are you feeling?" Katherine asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Like hell," Jack answered. "I got a killer headache, and everything aches, and I feel like I could puke any minute. It's hard to think, too. Like, it took me a couple of seconds to realize who you guys were when you came in the door."
"Doctor says you'se got a moderate traumatic brain injury," Crutchie explained. "Whatever that means."
Jack groaned. "That don't sound pleasant at all," he grumbled.
"You're alive," Katherine said. "Be thankful for that."
"Do you think I could see Davey and Spot?" Jack asked. "Nurses won't let me leave the room."
"You'll have to wait until they're discharged," Katherine said. "It should be a few more hours."
"I want to talk to them," Jack complained. "I don't remember what really happened."
"What's the last thing you remember?" Crutchie asked.
Jack shrugged. "Getting in the car," he said. "I think Spot and Davey were arguing about something, but I don't really know. Next thing I know I wake up here with my head pounding into the next century."
"Would you like me to fill you in on what happened?" Katherine asked. "I've already been relayed the story."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Crutchie asked, not wanting to cause Jack any undue stress.
"I want to know," Jack said. "Tell me."
Katherine took a breath. "Well, Spot ran a red light. Apparently, he and Davey were arguing about something, I think about how much Spot had to drink. A car hit you on your side; luckily, that was the only car to hit you. Davey went out for a few minutes, but he and Spot were both conscious when the ambulance brought them in. You weren't."
Jack listened to her carefully. "And they'se okay now?" he asked.
"Davey has a small concussion, and Spot has a pretty nasty gash on his forehead, but for the most part they're fine," Katherine assured him.
"Did Spot get into any trouble," Jack asked, sounding concerned.
Katherine thought about that for a moment. "I don't know, you'll have to ask him."
Jack frowned. "He said he was okay," he said.
"I know," Katherine responded. "But clearly he was wrong."
"I don't understand," Jack said. "Spot don't make mistakes like that. He never does."
"Everyone screws up sometimes," Katherine told him. "He just screwed up big time."
"I wanna talk to him," Jack said. "Now."
"You can't," Crutchie said. "Neither of you can leave your rooms."
"Then someone find my phone so I can call him," Jack said.
"Jack, I don't think that's a good idea," Katherine said. "Right now, you need to rest. You can talk to him in a few hours."
"But I want to talk to him now," Jack complained.
"Jack, please, just wait," Katherine told him. "Worry about yourself right now."
"Someone's gotta let him know I ain't mad at him," Jack argued. "He's probably beating himself up over it right now."
"As he should be," Katherine said. "He did a bad thing."
"But he was fine," Jack stated. "He wasn't walking funny or nothing; I remember that much."
"Just because someone has a high tolerance doesn't mean they can't still be intoxicated," Katherine explained.
"Jack, please don't worry about it right now," Crutchie pleaded. "You got enough to worry about as it is."
Jack made a face, frowning at Crutchie. "I want to sleep," he said.
"That's probably a good idea," Katherine said. "We'll leave you alone, if you like."
"No, stay here," Jack said, grabbing onto Crutchie. "I don't want to be alone when I wake up."
"I'll stay with you," Crutchie assured him. "You just get some sleep, alright?"
Jack nodded, lying back down on the bed. Crutchie looked up at Katherine, who stayed there for a moment longer before Crutchie gave her a nod, letting her know he had things taken care of here. Katherine gave him a nod in return and exited the room, going back down the hall to see Davey and Spot.
Crutchie looked down at Jack, who had already fallen back asleep. Tentatively, Crutchie lied down next to him, careful not to disturb him. Eventually he fell asleep as well, holding on tight to Jack in his sleep, as if he would vanish during their slumber.
Katherine entered the room, finding that Davey had gone to sleep. His parents were sitting by his bed, talking in hushed voices and occasionally glancing at Spot and Race across the room. Les was in the bed with Davey, sleeping as well, while Sarah stood by the door, waiting for Katherine to return.
"How is he?" Sarah asked, her voice quiet.
"A bit out of it, but he'll be okay," Katherine said, smiling encouragingly. "How's Davey?"
"Sleeping now," Sarah said. "He still had a headache last I heard. Is that normal for it to last so long?"
Katherine nodded. "I'm sure he'll be fine," she assured her.
"Mom and dad are . . . livid," Sarah whispered, glancing over at Spot and Race.
"Join the club," Katherine replied.
"It was an accident though, right?" Sarah said. "He didn't mean to . . ."
"No one ever means to, but it doesn't make it okay," Katherine whispered.
"Hey," Race said, getting up from Spot's bed. "How's Jack?"
"Fine, he's sleeping," Katherine answered. "Crutchie stayed with him so he wouldn't be alone."
"Good," Race said. "I'se gonna pop in and see him for a minute, just to see that he's okay."
Katherine nodded in understanding, stepping out of the way so Race could exit the room. She looked back at Spot, who was still absentmindedly crinkling the bed sheets in his hands, making eye contact with no one. Katherine wanted to say something, anything to him to express her disappointment and anger. But she couldn't bring herself to do it, not yet. For now, she would give him time. She was sure Race had already given him hell, not to mention talking to the cops as well. No, he'd get a break for now. She would give him hell later.
Race walked down to the hall to the room the doctor had mentioned Jack was staying in. He found both Jack and Crutchie lying in the bed, fast asleep. Crutchie was clinging to Jack like his life depended on it, and maybe in some ways it did. He hadn't known anyone to be so close so fast before; he couldn't even say that he and Spot were as close as the pair of them were, at least it didn't feel that way to him. Or maybe that was the frustration talking. Either way, he was glad to see Jack alive and well, even though it looked like he'd been through hell.
Race lingered for a moment longer before leaving the room, heading back down the hall to the other. He had no idea what the next days would bring, what it would mean for all of them and how much their lives would change. But he was certain nothing would be the same, not after this. It broke his heart, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Other than be there for the people he cared about and try to help in any way he could.
It was going to be a long ride.