Chapter 14

Chuck paced the ICU waiting room. A nurse had told them that some tests needed to be done, but that so far, things were going well. Gary appeared to be doing much better now that the ventilator was helping him to breathe. Chuck took small comfort in that news. He still felt sick inside when he thought back to the scene in Gary's hospital room. Marissa had been quiet for the most part, only asking Chuck to guide her to the hospital chapel. He'd done so, standing in the back while Marissa sat in pew in the front of the tiny chapel.

He'd never been the religious type-even after Mrs. Danforth had given him the bible with the check inside. He'd said then that he was going to change--but other than moving to California- had he truly changed? Sure, he'd started his production company and maybe had given some people jobs, but in the process he'd abandoned Gary and a chance to do some real good right here in Chicago. Chuck wished, guiltily, that things had gone differently; that he had stayed here and helped Gary. He couldn't change the past, but he vowed to change the future.

Gary became aware of a gagging sensation in his throat. He started to sit up, his hand reaching towards his mouth, as his mind still fuzzy, he reflexively sought to remove the offending object.

"No, Gary. That's helping you to breathe."

Gary put his hand down. He vaguely recalled the doctor saying that it might become necessary to put a tube down into his lungs. He couldn't remember anyone doing it, though. He opened his eyes, recognizing the nurse as the one who had taken care of him a few days ago.

"Do you know where you are, Gary?"

Gary nodded and started to speak, but found that no sound came out. He remembered that feeling from the other time he'd had a tube put in. He felt a momentary panic and started to choke again.

"Whoa, take it easy. Don't fight it, Gary. Just let the machine do all the work, okay?"

Gary closed his eyes, battling the panic inside, willing himself not to gag. It was a strange feeling to have air forced into your lungs without making any effort.

When he had defeated his fear, he opened his eyes again. He made a motion with his hand as though he was writing.

The nurse understood at once, and produced a scrap of paper and a pen from her pocket. She grabbed a clipboard from a shelf for to Gary to write on.

Gary fumbled with the pen, but finally managed to scrawl 'How long?' on the piece of paper.

The nurse looked puzzled, "How long, what?"

Gary pointed to the tube.

"Has it been in?"

Gary shook his head no, then shrugged, frustrated.

"Oh, you want to know how long until it comes out?"

Gary nodded.

The nurse shook her head. "Sorry, Gary. That's not up to me, but probably a few days."

His shoulders slumped as he closed his eyes in dejection.

"Hey, don't look like that. How about if I let a few of your friends come in? They've been waiting all afternoon."

Gary's eyes snapped open.

"Do you feel up to seeing them?"

Gary nodded eagerly. If he'd had the energy to grin, he would have.

The nurse laughed. "Okay, hold on. I'll send them in just as soon as I change this IV solution."

Gary heard soft murmuring coming from somewhere near the bed. He realized that it he must have fallen asleep. He opened his eyes and turned his head, searching for the source of the whispering.

Chuck and Marissa were standing huddled at the end of his bed. Marissa looked terrible, Gary thought, puzzled. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. Had something happened to her mother?

His face drawn and tense, Chuck had his arm around Marissa in a comforting gesture, and was saying something in a quiet voice to her.

Gary shifted in bed, drawing their attention.

Chuck smiled and moved closer to the head of the bed, "Come on, Marissa, he's awake finally."

Marissa reached over the rails and found his hand. "Hello, Gary." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, which he returned. Marissa smiled, "I know you can't talk to me, and I can't see you, but I can tell that you're getting better, Gary. I can feel it."

Gary squeezed again to let her know that he heard her.

"Yeah, Gar, you're looking a lot better since they stuck that tube in. How are you feeling?"

Gary shrugged and nodded. He gently pulled his hand from Marissa's and made the writing motion again, hoping Chuck would be as astute as the nurse had been. The paper and clip board were no longer in sight.

Chuck appeared puzzled for a second, "Oh! You want something to write with?"

Gary patiently nodded.

Chuck searched until he found the paper and clipboard hanging on the rail on the opposite side of the bed. "There ya go, buddy."

Gary propped the clipboard on one bent knee. He wrote, "What's wrong with Marissa? Is her mom okay?" Gary showed Chuck the note, concerned that Marissa had come back to soon-that her mom still needed her.

Chuck glanced at Marissa, surprise on his face. "What's wrong with her? Gar, what's wrong is that several hours ago we were here when you stopped breathing. Watching, or hearing your best friend get a tube stuck down his throat can be pretty upsetting, ya know?"

Gary shook his head, confused. He scribbled another note. "Here in the room?" He frowned at his handwriting. It was barely legible, but it was the best he could do for now.

Nodding, his face grim, Chuck shuddered, "Yeah, buddy. I hope I never have to see something like that again."

"It was horrible, Gary. We were so worried." Marissa's voice wavered, and tears shimmered in her eyes.

Gary laboriously wrote another note, "I'm sorry." He leaned back and shut his eyes. Embarrassment and sorrow flooding through him at having put his friends through so much. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find Chuck standing over him, his face full of emotion.

"Gar, you have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one who's sorry for not being here. That's going to change, though, 'cause from now on I'm right here." Chuck pointed emphatically to the ground. "I'll do whatever you or the paper needs me to do."