By
Tru False
Chapter 16It was almost 9:30 in the evening, and Charlie had been in surgery for well over two hours. Terry was beginning to feel very tired from the events of the day, yet she remained so full of anxiety that she couldn't possibly have settled, even if she had wanted to. She looked at Alan and Don, knowing it must be a thousand times worse for them.
They hadn't said much since they'd settled into the chairs, but right now Terry was happy with that. It was becoming increasingly difficult to be around Don, who clearly wanted to tell everyone to go to Hell yet seemed to be doing an inhumanly good job of holding it all in. Alan was giving Don space, and Terry had followed Alan's lead. Deep down though, the situation worried her. Don's coping mechanism was unhealthy, and it was something that weighed on her continually—not just at times like these. Often she just wanted to grab him and shake him until he came to his senses.
He must have sensed her studying him because he looked up at her then. She searched his eyes for a moment and was not surprised to find them impenetrable, as always. Ultimately she took to contemplating the standing plant in the corner instead.
123123123
Paul loved hospitals, especially at night, and he couldn't understand why people were always saying they hated them. His wife told him it was because he'd never lost anyone close to him. He supposed that made a certain amount of sense. Still, there was just something about the quiet hallways after hours, with the gentle beeps of machines and the faint glows that came from the rooms…he found it soothing. Plus hospitals were clean—and Paul definitely liked things to be clean. It was what made him so good at his job. He pushed his trashcan slowly down the hallway, mindful of the squeaky wheels and the sleeping patients nearby.
At the end of his rounds Paul came to the waiting room D, a favorite of his because it was small and typically in good shape already. As he neared the doorway he saw four people standing inside talking…one was obviously a doctor because he was in scrubs, then there was an older man, a young woman, and a younger guy with a cast on his arm.
Paul knew he would have to come back later to clean. He was about to turn away when curiosity once again got the better of him, and though he was too far away to hear what was being said, he stayed put and watched covertly through the opening of the doorway. The doctor had his back to him, but he could see that he was explaining something. He used his hands a lot as he spoke, like it was a difficult thing to get across.
Sensing bad news, Paul decided he really would turn away. But then, just as he was about to do so, the older man smiled—it was small smile at first, but it became broader and broader as the doctor went on, and so Paul continued to watch with renewed interest. Finally the doctor stopped speaking and by then the older man's smile was total, reaching his eyes. The lady was smiling too. The guy with the cast looked like he was in total shock, but the older man grabbed him and gave him a half-hug, shaking him gently as he laughed, and that got the guy to start smiling too. The older guy hugged the lady, and she laughed gently. She in turn hugged the guy in the cast. He quickly put his arms around her, although he still looked like he was in total shock. Suddenly the older guy latched onto the doctor, and that made everyone laugh.
Paul pushed his can slowly back down the hall with a smile on his own face. They seemed like a nice family.
He had always liked hospitals.
123123123
Don couldn't believe it. He literally could not believe that Charlie was going to be okay…just like that. Even the doctor had been surprised. Charlie had just pulled through somehow—he had shocked everyone. Don felt a rush of affection and pride for his younger brother. Charlie had cheated death. Something was finally going to turn out right in their lives. It was such a relief.
He looked over at his dad as they followed the nurse down the hall. Alan had known all along…had been absolutely certain, but to Don the whole thing was still unbelievable. Alan looked over at him and smiled broadly. Don smiled back. He felt Terry take his good hand and he turned to her and squeezed back gently, beaming. Everything was right with the world again.
They reached the door to Charlie's room and the nurse explained that they could only go in for a moment. They nodded that that was fine…Don really didn't care at this point, as long as they could see him and see that he really was going to be alright. Alan stepped in first, brushing by the nurse in his anxiousness. Terry seemed to hesitate like maybe she thought she should stay outside, so Don smiled at her and, not having let go of her hand, pulled her in gently with him.
But then all smiles faded into silence as they took in the sight of Charlie. Don let go of Terry's hand. Alan rubbed his chin subconsciously, his eyes arched in obvious despair. He pulled the nearby chair over and sat down slowly.
Every machine in the hospital must have been hooked up to Charlie. His chest rose and fell with a forced regularity, his eyes were taped shut and there were constant hums and beeps from the machines that stood like sentinels around him. He was pale, and he was still…broken to the point that it hurt just to look at him. It was hard to imagine someone coming back from this state…hard to imagine Charlie ever going from this to being Charlie again; joyful and impulsive and full of life.
Alan bowed his head and gently placed his hand on top of Charlie's. Don didn't know what to do. And then the choking sensation was back…the one that urged him to do something, to fix what was happening to his family—and for the eight thousandth time that day, he couldn't. Eventually Alan raised his head back up, wiping at his eyes briefly as he looked at Charlie. "I'm going to stay with him," he said. He had spoken softly yet his voice sounded deafening in the stillness of the room. He stood up and turned to Don. "Let Terry take you home," he said even more quietly, "you need to get some rest."
Don continued to stare at Charlie, trying to figure out what he should be doing. There had to be something. "Donny," Alan said louder, trying to break him out of his trance. He jumped slightly and looked at his father.
"You need to go home. I'll stay with him."
"They're not going to let you stay," Terry reminded Alan gently.
"They're not going to be able to stop me," he responded, never taking his eyes off Don's. "Donny," Alan said again. When he was sure he had his attention, he said, "Thank you."
Don's brow furrowed in confusion, and Alan pulled him into a hug. "I don't know everything that happened, but I know Charlie wouldn't have made it through this without you. I know you did everything you possibly could, and I know he's only alive because you were there."
But he was only there because of me, Don thought angrily. He stared at Charlie over his father's shoulder and had a horrible feeling like everything inside him was starting to rip apart. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hang onto his dad, bury his face like a little kid and pretend none of this had ever happened. For the first time in years he felt like he was losing control. It scared him and he pulled back from Alan abruptly.
"Call me if you need anything Dad," was all he could muster, but he was relieved to find his voice clear and steady.
"I will," Alan replied, obviously surprised he hadn't put up more of an argument.
Don nodded once, and giving Charlie one final glance, left the room as quickly as he could.
123123123
Terry looked over at Don as she walked alongside him, fury slowly building inside her. This was ridiculous. Why he insisted on doing this to himself was utterly beyond her. She was seriously debating grabbing him and calling him out on the whole thing, but he was walking more and more quickly by the second—any faster and she was going to have to jog just to keep up with him. She looked at him again. Cowardice was what it amounted to really; an inability to deal with difficult things. Running…he was actually trying to run away from this—it was ludicrous. She was about to open her mouth to tell him as much when suddenly he stopped, turning furious eyes on her.
"Stop doing that!" he yelled at her. "Quit looking at me like you're waiting for me to fall apart—for once in your life Terry would you just mind your own Goddamn business!"
She stood in a stunned silence as he took off again, angry at herself when she felt her eyes start to burn threateningly. She forced the hurt away with clinical precision and started after him, already a good distance back but already organizing the tirade she was going to deliver.
Up ahead she saw him miss a step, catching himself against the right hand wall as he continued on at an even faster pace. A few seconds later he staggered again, looking as if he had tripped over something. He seemed to make an extraordinary effort to keep moving, but ultimately fell to his knees. She watched him wrap both arms around his midsection and rock forward slowly.
She was with him in an instant. Her heart broke as she wrapped her arms around him and found that he immediately clung to her. His grief was all-consuming, and he shook with the force of it. She held him tightly, his face buried in her shoulder, shielding him from the strangers who occasionally passed by staring. She rocked him gently, shifting her grip on him occasionally so he would know she was still there. She whispered to him that everything was okay, then rested her chin on top of his head and closed her eyes.
Eventually he quieted, but it was some time later before he finally let go of her. She eased back from him then and they both stood up slowly. She wasn't surprised to find that he wouldn't meet her eyes. Awash in emotion herself and unsure of what words would best convey her feelings, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. It seemed to surprise him, but otherwise had the desired effect as he looked up and gave her a small, sad smile.
"Come on," she said softly, "let's get you home."
He followed her out the door willingly and for the first time ever, rode in the passenger seat of his own vehicle without saying a word.