Chapter 13
"Have you heard anything more, Chuck?" were Marissa's first words when he picked her up at the airport early the next morning.
"No. I called this morning, and they just told me that he was still critical but stable."
Marissa was silent for most of the drive to her apartment, and Chuck didn't seem in a talkative mood for once in his life. Grateful for small favors, Marissa wondered how her mother was doing. Had she had been able to get her hair washed by herself? Sighing, Marissa rubbed her temples. She had felt torn between staying with her mother and coming back for Gary. She smiled slightly as she recalled her mama's words. "Marissa, honey, I appreciate everything you've done, but if you don't get your self on a plane tomorrow and go back to Chicago to be with Gary, I'll disown you." Marissa had hugged her mother, loving her even more for her understanding.
"What's so funny?"
Marissa jumped. The silence in the car had stretched for so long, she had almost forgotten about Chuck. "Oh, nothing. Just something my mother said."
"Is she gonna be okay without you there?"
Smiling, Marissa nodded, "Let's just say that if I hadn't come back here-I wouldn't be okay."
Chuck laughed softly.
Marissa had Chuck stop by her apartment first, and asked him to wait while she put her suitcases away and quickly changed. As it was still too early to go visit Gary, they ate breakfast at a small diner, then went to McGinty's.
Chuck opened the door to the bar, surprised to find Crumb already getting the bar ready to open for lunch. "What are you doing here so early?"
"What do ya mean? Who else did you expect to get the place ready for lunch? The tooth fairy?" Crumb rolled his eyes, but then smiled as he saw Marissa walk in behind Chuck.
"Well, I just figured Gary would have hired someone by now."
"Nope."
"Oh." Chuck swallowed. Crumb's simple answer spoke volumes. In an abstract sort of way, Chuck had worried about how Gary would find time to run the bar and take care of business with the paper. But, in all the excitement of moving and starting his own production company, the worry had been pushed to a far corner of his mind, a corner so remote that Chuck guiltily tried to recall the last time he had really thought about it. He had just assumed that Gary had hired someone to help with the day to day operations, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how difficult a position it would be to fill.
How would Gary explain his frequent absences to a new manager? Not that he had to explain, exactly, as Gary was the owner. But wouldn't a manager--new one at least, expect Gary to be around a bit more? What if, somehow, the new manager found out about the paper? What would happen then? What would he or she do with the information?
Chuck began to understand, maybe for the first time, the dilemma that Gary had faced. The situation that he, Chuck, had forced Gary to deal with.
He sat quietly on a barstool while Marissa and Crumb greeted each other. Chuck plucked a few peanuts from a dish on the bar, feeling ill at ease, as though he should be doing something. He had an urge to check the bar stock, to see if there was enough of everything, but shook it off. He didn't belong here anymore. It wasn't his job.
Marissa followed Chuck into McGinty's. The familiar scents of furniture polish, wood, and beer enveloped her and were comforting. She was home.
"Hey, young lady, C'mere! It's good to see you."
Smiling, Marissa felt herself being enveloped in a hug, and returned the embrace. "I'm glad to be back--but not under these circumstances. How is he, Crumb?" Marissa's voice trembled on the last sentence.
Crumb gave Marissa another squeeze before releasing her and stepping back. His hands rested on her shoulders, "Hobson's tough, Marissa. A lot tougher than you or I even know. He'll be okay."
Marissa nodded, "Yes, I know, but I can't help worrying. What does the doctor say?"
Crumb sighed, "He's had a rough time of it the last few days, that's for sure, but the doc says that by tomorrow the penicillin should start to take a noticeable effect."
His hand on her elbow, Crumb gently guided Marissa to a chair and they both sat quietly for a moment.
"How come you never called me? Why didn't Gary want me to know?" The words were spoken softly, but the hurt in them was loud and clear.
"I think, Marissa, that Hobson really thought that everything was under control. That there was no need to bother anyone."
"Bother? Why would he think he was bothering anyone? Doesn't he know that there are people that care about him?" Marissa swallowed back a sob.
Crumb reached over, and awkwardly grasped her hand. "I should've called you. I'm sorry, Marissa. I'm not trying to make excuses, but until I actually saw him, I didn't think he was that bad either."
Marissa swiped at the tears that were running down her cheeks, shaking her head, "You don't have to apologize, Crumb. Neither does Gary. I guess I'm just angry at the whole situation. I'm mean, why Gary? What has he ever done to deserve this?"
Chuck had prepared a lengthy excuse to get Marissa into Gary's room-something about a second cousin twice removed-but found it wasn't necessary. When they had buzzed the intercom, there was no answer for several minutes, finally, a technician exited the ICU, and Chuck caught the door before it had a chance to close again.
"Are you sure we should be doing this, Chuck?" Marissa whispered.
"Uh, no, but do you want to get into Gary's room or don't ya? Don't worry, if we're not supposed to be there, they'll kick us out."
Chuck led Marissa to Gary's room, noting in passing that the nurses seemed busy. Several were on the phone, and writing in charts. One especially harried looking nurse was speaking loudly to someone on the phone. Chuck heard her say, "No, we need someone down here right now to intubate." The nurse slammed the phone down, muttering something about anesthesiologists.
They entered Gary's room, and Chuck stopped in his tracks, causing Marissa to inadvertently bump into his back.
"What is it, Chuck?"
"I-I don't know." Chuck stared at Gary. The day before, Gary had been breathing rapidly, and but now his breathing was slow and gasping. There were long pauses between breaths. Was that good or bad?
"Is he sleeping?"
"Umm. I think so." Only Chuck feared it was worse than sleep. He walked to the bed, one hand steering Marissa around the IV poles. "Hey, Gar!" Chuck shook Gary's shoulder. There was no response. Not even an eyelid flickered.
"Who are you? Who let you in?"
Chuck looked up to find the nurse that had slammed the phone down, now glaring at him. From the expression on her face, he should have been worried about what she would do but all that entered his mind was here was someone that could tell him what was wrong. "How come I can't wake him up?"
The nurse's face softened, "Are you friends?"
Chuck nodded, and Marissa answered, "Yes."
"He's gotten worse in just the last forty-five minutes. I've called the doctor with some lab result and we've decided to insert a tube to help him to breathe. In a moment, someone will be here to do that procedure. If you could go to the waiting room now, I'll come and get you as soon as possible, okay?"
"Oh my God!" Marissa gasped, one hand coming up to cover her mouth.
Chuck put an arm around her to support her, and to guide her out of the room. He glanced back at Gary. "Hey?" he turned to the nurse, his eyes wide, "I don't think he's-"
"Damn!" The nurse took one look at Gary and rushed to the head of the bed, her hand slapping a button on the wall. The button started flashing as the nurse grabbed a purple thing from a hook on the wall. The purple thing looked similar to a football, with a few additions to it and the nurse pulled the oxygen mask off Gary and slapped a different mask that was connected to the purple football over Gary's face. She began squeezing the football thing.
"What is it, Chuck?" Marissa whispered, clutched at Chuck, "Tell me!"
"I don't think Gary's breathing, Marissa." Chuck said, his voice low and worried. He pulled Marrisa back towards a corner as suddenly the room was swarming with people. He knew that they should leave, but their exit was blocked by the people and equipment that had invaded the room.
He watched in horrified fascination as Gary's bed was laid flat and the rails lowered. All the while, someone continued squeezing the purple thing--obviously trying to pump air into Gary's lungs.
Gary lay limply through it all, his arms spread-eagled as nurses took his blood pressure and injected his IVs' with medication.
A woman in dark blue scrubs strode to the head of the bed, barking out questions, "How long has he been down? Who's his doctor? What's his diagnosis?" Grabbing a shiny metal piece of equipment from a red cart that had been wheeled into the room, she then nudged the nurse who was pumping the purple thing out of the way, and flexed Gary's neck back. She snapped the metal object open so that it resembled an L, and inserted it in Gary's mouth, using it to pull up his lower jaw.
Chuck almost gagged when he imagined what that would feel like. Miss Blue Scrubs reached out for a plastic tube that someone handed her, and stuck it in Gary's mouth. Apparently, she was having difficulty getting it to go where she wanted, as she maneuvered the tube back and forth several times.
"His heart rate is dropping, doctor."
Miss Blue Scrubs glanced up at the monitor, and pulled the tube out. "Shit! Bag him!"
The nurse placed the mask back on Gary's face and resumed squeezing the purple thing, or bagging Gary, as Chuck figured out. He couldn't believe nobody had noticed Marissa and him still in the room. He was afraid to say anything now as he didn't want to get in the way. Marissa's fingers were digging into his arm.
After a moment, Doc Blue Scrubs tried to again stick the tube down Gary's throat. She used a blue plastic device like a dentist used to suction Gary's mouth, and Chuck cringed when he saw the bloody looking stuff that was being sucked through the tubing. After clearing Gary's mouth, the doc placed the tube in his throat again. This time, apparently it went in without a hitch, and the purple bag was attached to the tube.
After several moments of watching the monitors and using a stethoscope to listen to Gary's chest, the doctor appeared satisfied. She turned to the nurse and said, "Let's get a vent set up." Chuck heard her rattle off some numbers, but he was no longer paying attention. Marissa was still in his arms, her eyes wide, her body shaking.
"Chuck? Is Gary...?" Marissa couldn't finish the sentence, and it took a Chuck a moment to realize what she was asking.
"Oh, God, Marissa! No! He's not-" Chuck couldn't bring himself to say it either. He gulped, and finished, "He's okay--I think. They stuck a tube in and are breathing for him."
Marissa let out a sob of relief, tears coursing unchecked down her face as she sagged against Chuck. He put his arms around her, "Hey, it's okay." He gave her a little squeeze. "Let's get out of here so that we aren't in the way."
