Chapter 12
Sam felt someone shaking his bad shoulder. His eyes popped open, and then he winced at the pain the shaking caused, absently noting bright sunlight filtering in through the blinds covering the large window of the room.
"Sam? I'm Irene, your sister TJ's day nurse. She's bucking the vent, and we want to see if you can help calm her down before we have to sedate her again."
Sam's heart started to race, and he took a second to try and figure out where he was and remembered that, after seeing TJ briefly one more time in the early hours of the morning, he had slept the rest of the night in an empty patient room. He threw the thin sheet that was covering him off and pushed on the mattress, rolling himself onto his back. His voice still thick with sleep, he said, "Okay. I just need—I need help getting into my chair."
Irene, an older, plump woman with short gray hair, frowned in confusion.
"My wheelchair. I'm—I have paraplegia." Sam looked around and experienced a second of panic when he saw his wheelchair wasn't beside the bed. He'd been so tired last night he hadn't paid attention to what the orderly that had helped him onto the bed had done with his chair. It was irritating. He would have thought an orderly in a hospital would know to leave it by the bed, but that wasn't the case.
He was still fully clothed, and he tugged on the denim of his jeans leg with his right hand to give himself some leverage, pulling himself up a little—ignoring the ache in his shoulder—and then placed his left hand behind him, followed by his right, and got himself to a sitting position. He could sit without support once he was up, but getting there was a little tricky, since he didn't have use of his lower abdominal muscles.
When he was sitting up, he saw with relief that his chair was parked in a corner of the room. "It's over there," he said, indicating with a jerk of his head.
Irene looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, yes. Of course. I'm sorry."
After Irene got the wheelchair, Sam patiently instructed her on how to help him transfer. She wanted to call an orderly, but Sam didn't want to waste the time waiting for one. Irene was a stout woman, and it was an easy transfer, and Sam managed to finally convince her that she could do it. The flustered nurse had informed him that she had just recently been reassigned to this unit, that she had been a neonatal nurse for most of her career.
Sam tried to stay calm, trying not to let the delay get to him as he followed the nurse to TJ's room, trying not to vent his frustration that TJ needed him and it had taken forever just to get him out of the damn bed. He needed to cath, too, but it would have to wait, and he hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself. Right now, though, the only thing that mattered was TJ.
As they got closer to her room, he could hear the vent alarm and the frantic beeping of the heart-rate monitor, and there were voices murmuring calming words to TJ. He picked up the pace, forgetting to push his chair the way Karen had instructed, just trying to get to TJ the fastest way possible.
It was all he could do to keep himself from shoving one of the nurses that was in his way, but she noticed him and quickly stepped away from TJ. He wheeled up next to TJ's bed as he had the night before.
She was in the same inclined position as before, almost sitting up, and she was making choking sounds, fighting the vent, wild terror in her eyes. A nurse on the other side of the bed held TJ's wrists down by her sides, and TJ kept flexing and clenching her fingers into fists. She moved her legs weakly and then grimaced.
Sam knew the struggle was causing her pain and was sure she didn't understand what was going on or what had happened to her. Why in the hell hadn't he set the alarm on his cell phone so that he'd wake up? He should have been there when she first opened her eyes. He covered her hand protectively with his, hating the vise-like grip the nurse had on her wrist.
Irene and the nurse that had been in his way, along with a woman wearing a white coat, stood by and watched, concern evident on their faces.
The woman with the coat, who was obviously a doctor, said, "See if you can calm her down. We hope to wean her off the vent today, but she needs to stay off the sedatives for us to do that. If she keeps panicking, we'll have to sedate her again."
With his other hand, he rubbed TJ's cheekbone soothingly with his thumb and said, "Hey, Teej. It's Sam. Everything's fine. You're safe. You just need to take it easy, okay?" He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
She focused her eyes on him, then, and gripped his hand with surprising strength.
His heart jumped a little, and he smiled. "Hey, kiddo. You're gonna be okay. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
She stared at him with relief in her eyes, and her heart rate began to slow on the monitor a little, but then she winced.
The vent gave off another alarm that her breathing was out of sync.
Sam understood how scary and painful it could be. "Don't fight the tube, TJ. It's pumping air into your lungs, so just let it do all the work. They're gonna be taking it out soon, so just try to relax for right now."
She scrunched her eyes shut.
He looked up at the nurse holding her wrists. "Let her go."
The nurse looked over at the doctor, who gave a nod that it was okay.
The nurse slowly released her grip, ready to grab TJ again if TJ started flailing.
TJ seemed to relax more, the features of her face smoothing out, and her breathing was more in rhythm with the vent.
The nurse gave Sam an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. She was really agitated, and we were afraid she might dislodge a tube."
Sam had nothing to say to that. He didn't like the red marks that had been left on TJ's thin wrists, but he knew that jerking a tube loose would have been worse. He rubbed the back of TJ's hand and soothed the red marks on her wrist with his thumb. With his other hand, he brushed his fingers through her hair. "Hey," he said softly.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, and then winced again and furrowed her brow.
"Are you hurting? One blink for yes, two for no."
She stared at him a moment longer, and then she slowly and deliberately blinked once.
Sam's gut clenched, and he looked over at the doctor. "Did you see that? Can you give her something for the pain?"
The doctor, a slight woman with square black glasses and black hair pulled back in a bun, walked over to the other side of the bed. "TJ, I just need to check a few things, and then we'll give you something to take the edge off, okay?"
TJ just looked at the doctor, large brown eyes full of distrust.
"She's a doctor, TJ," said Sam. "She's just going to make sure everything looks good, which it does," he insisted, although he had no way of knowing, "and then they'll give you some of the good stuff."
The doctor put a gentle hand on TJ's forearm. "I'm sorry, TJ. I should have introduced myself. I'm Dr. Udell. I'll be working with Dr. Wahl on your case."
TJ's eyes shifted to Sam, and she gave him a look that said, What's she talking about?
Sam kept steadily brushing her hair with his fingers. "I'll explain everything. Let her check you out first, though, okay?"
TJ closed her eyes and squeezed his hand.
"Go ahead," said Sam to the doctor.
"You've had surgery, TJ, and I'm just going to pull up your gown so I can see your dressings, okay?
TJ blinked in confusion.
"I'm assuming, since Sam's your brother, that you won't mind if he stays?"
Sam could feel heat spreading up his neck.
TJ's eyes flew open and widened.
Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, that's all right." He gave TJ a meaningful look that said, Just go with it. "I'll just step out of the room for a little bit, but I'll be right back. Okay?"
Her eyes locked with his for a moment, and then she gave his hand another squeeze, apparently the signal for "okay."
Sam could have sworn he saw a flash of humor in her eyes, and he smiled. "I'll be back in a minute, sis."
While Sam was waiting in the hallway, he got a call from Bobby, who was there with a change of clothes and a few other things he thought Sam might need. Sam met him in the waiting room and gave him a quick update on TJ's condition. Then, they got the okay for Sam to go back to the empty room he'd slept in and take care of his personal needs, and Bobby helped him change clothes. Sam was going to stay with TJ at least until her mom got there, so he told Bobby to go back to the apartment. There was really nothing else Bobby could do and no reason he should be stuck in the ICU waiting room all morning.
By the time Sam made it back to the hallway outside TJ's room, Dr. Udell was waiting outside TJ's door. When she saw him, she smiled politely. "Okay, Sam. Everything looks good so far. Her surgical incision looks good, and there's no significant leakage around the G-tube and J-tube. The drainage from the chest tubes has already gone down, so, hopefully, if it keeps tapering off, we can remove those in a couple of days.
"In the meantime, I think it's safe to have an RT—respiratory therapist—come up here and do a spontaneous breathing trial. TJ has been on the vent less than twenty-four hours, so, hopefully, it won't be difficult for her to transition to breathing on her own.
"I think her pain is from the incision and discomfort from the chest tubes, which is to be expected, along with soreness from fighting the vent. I've given her something for the pain, which should kick in soon."
Sam hated the thought of TJ in pain and wanted to get back to her.
"She seems pretty cognizant now, although the painkiller will probably make her drowsy again. It won't knock her out like the sedative did before, but it will help her rest."
Sam nodded.
"I explained to her what happened."
Sam nodded and then stared absently at the busy nurses' station, not really seeing it, thinking about the road ahead for TJ, what she would have to go through not only to heal from the surgery but how she would deal with the bulimia.
Dr. Udell looked sympathetic. "You can go back in, now. I don't see any reason to restrict your visitation. She seems a lot more at ease when you're in there with her."
"Thank you."
"Sure. Either I or Dr. Wahl will be in to check on her and see how the vent weaning goes later on."
With that, she left, and Sam went back into TJ's room.
TJ's eyes were closed, but she opened them halfway when he was next to her bed.
It felt natural for him to take her hand again. "Hey. Told you I'd be back. Do you feel any better? Is the painkiller kicking in?"
She held his gaze, but there was no blink to answer his questions, just an air of despondency that hadn't been there before.
He didn't like the change in her, and he wished Dr. Udell had let him handle explaining everything that had happened instead of TJ hearing it from a stranger.
She shifted her eyes away from him before slowly closing them. Except for her breathing, she was absolutely still.
He squeezed her hand. "I know how you feel, but everything's gonna be fine. I swear."
There was no return squeeze of his hand this time, and he was disturbed by her withdrawal from him.
He wanted desperately to somehow take away her sadness, but he didn't know what to say. He didn't even begin to know how to address the bulimia, and it seemed too new, too raw, to bring it up anyway.
Instead, he just sat there, rubbing the back of her hand, giving her comfort the only way he knew how—just by being there—and watched as an uneasy sleep reclaimed her.
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TJ slept fitfully for the rest of the morning after that, opening her eyes several times, but when she noticed Sam still sitting by her bedside holding her hand, her eyes darted away and closed again. He was worried that she seemed to be avoiding him—as much as a person in an ICU on a ventilator could avoid someone—and wondered if she was remembering what he said to her when they had argued.
He wanted to apologize to her, of course, but it didn't seem the right time to bring it up. She seemed fairly calm now, and he didn't want to say anything to upset her. Besides, she was only waking for a second or two each time, and then she would go back to sleep again.
It was after one in the afternoon, now, and Sam expected her mom to be getting there soon. Gretchen had texted him that she was picking up Ferna Sue around twelve-thirty, and they were going straight from the airport to the hospital.
Sam was trying to read a Time magazine he'd found in the waiting room, but he couldn't really concentrate on anything. He kept looking at TJ to see if she was awake, and, at the moment, he saw that she wasn't. She looked more tranquil than she had earlier, seemed to be sleeping more soundly, and he was heartened to see that her color looked a little better than it had last night.
He arched his back over the backrest of his chair, stretching and rotating his bad shoulder a little, which was getting stiff.
At that moment, Irene walked in—there was never any knocking in the ICU because the door was always open anyway—with the portable cart that contained a laptop and other equipment and started recording TJ's vitals, as she had been doing all morning.
Sam backed out of her way and watched. They didn't make him leave the room if there were no personal needs that needed to be attended to or dressings that needed to be checked.
As she worked, she spoke to Sam in a low voice, obviously trying not to wake TJ. "The respiratory therapist will be here soon to start the breathing trial. Hopefully, if all goes well, TJ can get rid of that vent."
"Good." He hoped getting rid of the vent and being able to talk would improve TJ's spirits.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the doorway.
He turned to see a small woman with big, poofy blond hair standing in the doorway wearing a light-pink sweater, matching cardigan, jeans, and brown sandals with a bit of a heel. She wasn't very tall, but she was an attractive older lady, probably in her late fifties.
She smiled with a little twinkle in her eye and said, "Sammy? Oh, son." Before Sam could react, she walked over, bent down, and gave him a hug, enveloping him in a cloud of subtle perfume. She was careful of his bad shoulder as if she knew to watch out for it and whispered in his ear in a more genteel version of TJ's accent, "I know you don't like to be called Sammy, but I figure that's what your mama would call you if she were alive."
He smiled nervously, patting her back. Obviously, this was TJ's mom, and Gretchen had been right. She already knew a lot about him. "Uh, hi," he said lamely.
She withdrew from him but kept her hands lightly on his shoulders, looking him over with shrewd green eyes.
It made him a little uncomfortable, but surely, if she knew so much about him, she had known he used a wheelchair.
With that same sort of mischievous twinkle in her eye, she said, "My, my, but you get more handsome every time I see you."
He hadn't expected her to say that, and he wasn't sure what to say. "Uh, thanks," he replied.
Irene was watching their whole exchange intently.
He cleared his throat and said, "Uh, you look great, too." He almost added "Mom," but couldn't quite bring himself to call her that, despite his years of conning people as a hunter. This was TJ's mom, and it was a strange way to be introduced to someone, especially the parent of a friend.
"Gretchen had to go back to work, but she's gonna try to get up and see TJ later today, if they'll let her."
Sam nodded.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, giving him a wink and a smile, and then focused her attention on Irene and TJ, suddenly serious. She walked over to the bed and took TJ's hand, eyes glued to her daughter's face. Without looking at Irene, she said to the nurse in a hushed tone, "I'm Ferna Sue Nelek, TJ's mother."
Sam saw TJ's brow furrow a little at the sound of her mother's voice, but she didn't wake.
"Hi, Mrs. Nelek," the nurse replied, matching Ferna Sue's quiet tone. "I'm Irene, TJ's primary day nurse."
"Hello, Irene. Call me Ferna Sue or just Fern." She took in a deep breath, as if steeling herself, and finally looked at Irene. "How's she doin'?"
Irene gave her a rundown of TJ's condition and prognosis and explained the tubes and machinery, as Patti had done for Sam.
Fern took it all in stoically, occasionally asking questions, never letting go of TJ's hand, never showing that she was upset, except for an almost imperceptible crease in her brow.
When the nurse was done, Fern leaned closer to TJ, a tender look on her face, and carded her fingers through TJ's hair. "Hey, sugar. Mama's here." Her voice was soothing and smooth, almost like a lullaby.
TJ's eyes fluttered open, and she stared at her mom for a moment, blinking her long lashes, as if trying to focus. Then she closed them slowly, brow furrowed in a mixture of anguish and relief, and began to cry silently, large tears rolling down her cheeks.
Sam had never seen TJ like that, and it stole his breath, as if an arrow had pierced his chest. He wanted to comfort her, but it wasn't his place, not now.
Unconditional love and heartbreak spread across Fern's features, the type of expression a mother would have seeing her child in pain. "Shh. It's all right, baby doll," she said, wiping the tears from TJ's cheeks and stroking her hair. "Everything's gonna be just fine."
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Three days later, Sam was heading to TJ's room, and he could hear a commotion coming from it long before he actually got there.
Vernon, TJ's dad, was standing just outside the open door. When he saw Sam, he gave him a dry look. "Well, she's awake," he drawled in his thick Kentucky accent.
It was the understatement of the year, since TJ's hoarse, yet loud, cursing could be heard all over the ICU. "You tell this bitch, Mama!" she was yelling, her accent as pronounced as her dad's, a sign that she was royally pissed off. "You tell her to get...these...fuckin'...things...out of me!"
Sam could hear Fern and another female voice, probably a nurse, murmuring to TJ, trying to calm her down.
"No! Stop touching me!"
Vernon, who usually had a wry sense of humor and never seemed to take anything too seriously, grew earnest and gave Sam a look that was filled with worry. "She woke up real agitated early this mornin'. The doc thinks it's because of the pleural chest tube, says they can sometimes cause patients to get antsy. TJ's been coughin' a little this mornin', too, which I'm sure don't make all them stitches she's got—inside and out—feel too good."
Sam frowned. "Coughing? Did the doctor say why?"
"She said when a lot of fluid's been drained, it can sometimes cause it. I think they're probably gonna take them tubes out soon, but we've got to wait for the respiratory therapist to come around and give the okay." Vernon, who had bright-blue eyes, gray hair cropped military style, and leathery skin from spending years outdoors farming, rubbed a hand over his face and sniffed. "To top it all off, that damn G-tube she's got in her stomach for drainage is leakin' stomach juice, and it's caused her skin to get real irritated around the hole where the tube sticks out."
Sam cringed, hating what TJ was going through, and he exhaled to release some of his tension. He wanted to see her, to comfort her, but she hadn't exactly been receptive since that morning when she'd first woken up after her surgery. She'd been quiet most of the time, hardly talking to anyone, but then she'd have bouts like this morning where she'd be angry and belligerent, and none of them had escaped her sharp tongue unscathed. "Have they given her anything for the pain?"
Vernon nodded. "Yeah. But—"
"Dammit, I said stop touchin' me, you bitch!" croaked TJ. "Just leave me the fuck alone!"
"—as you might be able to tell, it don't seem to be havin' much effect so far." Vernon poked his cheek with his tongue and quirked his mouth like Sam had seen TJ do a million times.
Sam found it hard to believe that Vernon wasn't her biological father because she was so much like him. They didn't look much alike, which wasn't surprising, but their mannerisms and their way of talking were amazingly similar.
TJ had obviously gotten her sarcasm from her father, along with her tendency to say things that were sometimes insensitive or inappropriate. Vernon had a swagger and confidence that was surprisingly likable, despite the fact that he sometimes said outlandish things that no one else could get away with, and it was obvious he didn't care who he shocked or offended. He wasn't mean; he just said what he thought, and, with Vernon, you always knew where you stood.
Sam eyed the door to TJ's room warily. "Is it okay—I mean, should I go in there?"
Vernon raised his brows. "Well, my advice would be to enter at your own risk. You might wanna trade that wheelchair for the Popemobile, though. You'll need all the protection you can git."
Sam grinned. "I think I'll be okay as long as she doesn't get her hands on any projectiles."
Vernon wheezed out a laugh, clapped Sam on his good shoulder, and called into the room, "Ferna Sue, our son is here. Can us men of the family come in?" Vernon had one of those rich voices that carried, and even when he wasn't trying to be loud, he could always be heard a mile away.
There were murmurs in the room. Then, the cursing stopped, and TJ was quiet.
TJ's parents had thought it was great fun pretending that Sam was their son and cracked little inside jokes about it all the time around the hospital staff, but, on the more serious side of things, they had also been grateful that Sam had been there for TJ when they couldn't be.
TJ's mom, especially, had been really nice to him, and they'd had quite a few talks before Vernon had arrived, during the down times when TJ had been asleep. Fern had told Sam that she and TJ were close, that they spoke on the phone almost every day; and knowing that, it made more sense that Fern knew so much about him. It actually made him feel kind of good to know TJ had talked to her mom about him, kind of made him want to smile.
Fern, in her much softer, genteel voice, called, "Just a minute, boys."
After another moment, Irene came out looking more than a little rattled and just shook her head at Vernon and Sam in frustration.
"All right. Y'all can come in," called Fern.
Sam followed Vernon into the room.
Fern was sitting in a chair to TJ's left, on the side of the bed not visible from the door, where the Foley bags and the feeding pump were, and Sam knew it was because TJ didn't want him to see everything.
He pushed himself toward her bed on the other side but didn't get as close as he had that first day. Lately, his presence seemed to make TJ a little uneasy, so he sat back a bit from her bed and said, "Hey."
Vernon piped up. "Hay is for horses."
TJ rolled her eyes in derision, even though she'd said the same thing to Sam a hundred times. "Oh, God," she muttered.
"You better finish that prayer, girl," Vernon admonished, but there was no heat behind it. His response had been automatic, like they'd had that exchange many times.
Fern gave Sam a slightly rueful look. "We try not to take the Lord's name in vain," she explained.
TJ was silent, picking at a thread on the thin, beige blanket that covered her up to her waist, not looking at anyone, especially not Sam. She had a plastic oxygen cannula in her nose, and her hair looked a little oily since it hadn't been washed in a few days—which was one of the many things that sucked about being in the hospital that Sam remembered—but it was in a ponytail, and Sam found it a relief to see her looking a bit more like herself, although she was still gaunt and weak. However, she had been on the nutritional formula for a couple of days, and her coloring was starting to look a lot better.
There was an awkward silence in the room, which was unusual when Vernon was around, but he seemed to be distracted, watching TJ intently.
Fern stood up and said, "Come on, Vern. I missed breakfast this mornin'. Let's go to that Cracker Barrel down the street and get some brunch. I'm tired of the hospital cafeteria."
Vernon looked like he was about to protest, but Fern gave him a hard stare full of meaning and inclined her poofy-haired head toward Sam and TJ. She was a small woman, couldn't have been much over five-foot-two, but she had a presence about her that was all quiet strength and authority, probably from years as a high school science teacher.
Vernon looked a little chastened and said, "Sure. I done had me some cereal at the apartment, but I wouldn't mind gettin' somethin' that'll stick to my ribs."
Fern raised a brow at him. "'Done had me some cereal'? Vernon Nelek, where'd you learn to speak English, Louisville?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You better watch it, woman."
She just smirked.
Vernon had gone to the University of Louisville, and Ferna Sue had gone to the University of Kentucky. As Vernon had proudly told Sam, the rivalry had kept a spark in their marriage for thirty years.
Fern kissed TJ's forehead in a motherly way. "You gonna be okay, sugar, if Daddy and I go grab a bite? Sam'll be here with you."
TJ nodded and looked like she was about to speak, but she coughed instead and grimaced, laying her head back on her pillow.
Fern frowned. "That painkiller still hadn't kicked in yet, hon?"
"I'm fine, Mom," TJ said weakly. "Y'all just go."
Fern looked like she was having second thoughts.
Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, I'll call you if she needs you, Mrs. Nelek. You guys won't be that far away."
Vernon clapped Sam good-naturedly on the shoulder again—the good one. He was always aware of Sam's sore shoulder, although he and Sam had never talked about it, probably because either TJ or Fern had warned him about it.
Sam always tensed and grabbed his wheels when Vernon slapped his shoulder, though, not because it hurt, but because it always made him feel a little off balance. He never said anything, not wanting to point out his weaknesses to Vernon; he just hoped Vernon never got too overzealous one of these days and caused him to fall out of his chair.
"Son, first of all, if them nurses hear you call her Mrs. Nelek, we'll all be in the doghouse for lyin'. Second, you're gonna have to start sayin' y'all if you're gonna be a part of this family," he said boisterously.
Sam looked up at him and gave a polite smile. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."
Fern squeezed TJ's hand and then grabbed her purse that was on the overbed table. "All right, sugar doll. You sure you'll be all right?"
TJ nodded tiredly.
Fern frowned and gave Sam a look that said she was counting on him to take care of her daughter. "We'll be back after while."
Sam gave her a quick nod of reassurance, and they headed out the door.
TJ watched them go and then closed her eyes.
It seemed eerily quiet in the room without Ferna Sue and Vernon there, even with the usual noises of the ICU all around them.
Sam cleared his throat, feeling awkward. He hadn't had a moment alone with TJ since her mom had gotten there. Fern had refused to leave TJ's side, but Sam figured since TJ seemed stronger today, despite her earlier agitation, Fern had deemed it okay if she left her daughter for a little bit. He knew she'd done it to give Sam and TJ some time together.
He hadn't had a chance to apologize to TJ for what he'd said when they'd argued, but he didn't know how to bring it up, so he made small talk instead. "So, uh, Dean and Heather said to say hi and that they'd come for a visit once you're out of the ICU."
At first it seemed like she wasn't going to acknowledge what he'd said, but then she opened her eyes, not meeting his, and seemed to stare at nothing. "I don't want them to come visit me," she said in a flat tone.
"Oh, come on, TJ. They're all wanting to see you—Bobby and Gretchen, too. I know you don't feel like it now, but you'll want to see them when you're better and you're not hooked up to all this stuff." After a couple of seconds of silence, he added quietly, "Gretchen said you refused to see her."
She looked back at him then, her eyes flashing with anger. "Did you feel like having visitors?"
He was quiet for a moment, and then he wheeled his chair up close to her bed, tired of not being near enough to her. "No. I didn't want visitors, but my situation was a lot different—in a lot of ways."
She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, her hand clutching tightly at the blanket covering her.
He cleared his throat. "Do you not want me to visit, either?"
She didn't answer.
He reached over and took her hand, uncurling her fist and lacing his fingers together with hers.
She stiffened and winced.
He almost let go of her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but, in the end, he held on. Her skin was soft and a little cool, and he wanted to warm it up. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle in a calming manner and spoke in a low tone. "TJ, I'm sorry for what I said, and I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me."
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TJ opened her eyes and rolled her head on the pillow to look at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about and hating the guilty look she saw on his face. The oxygen they had her on made her throat, which was already sore from the ventilator, feel dry, and since she couldn't eat or drink anything—not even ice—her mouth felt like she'd been eating chalk. She didn't feel like talking—hadn't felt like talking to anyone for other reasons besides just the physical—but she couldn't let that go. "Don't apologize for that." Her voice sounded raspy, and she knew yelling at Irene earlier hadn't helped. "I know why you said it."
Sam looked down, pausing for a second, and then looked back up at her. "I didn't mean to hurt you. What I said—I didn't mean to imply—"
"You didn't mean to imply that somebody beat me at birth with the ugly stick?" She was teasing him.
He rolled his eyes. "No. I just meant—"
"I know what you meant, Sam," she interrupted. "Just forget it. Please."
He furrowed his brow, giving her the puppy-dog look. "I want you to know that I think you're beautiful, TJ."
She felt warm fuzzies all over, realizing for the first time what "warm fuzzies" really meant, and looked down, hiding the tears brimming in her eyes, loving him more in that moment than she ever had. "On the inside, right?" she joked hoarsely.
"In every single way," he said with complete sincerity.
She composed herself and forced out a smile. "Thank you, Christina Aguilera."
He grinned, giving her a flash of white teeth and dimples. "Are you ever serious? We're having a moment here."
"If I ever were serious, I'd probably commit suicide."
His face fell, and he looked stricken.
"Good Lord, Sam. I'm just kidding." Then she realized that was damn near what she'd actually done, almost killing herself, and the gut-wrenching shame that she'd been trying to fight off since she'd been told what had happened rushed into her full force, making her feel worse than she already did. She couldn't meet his eyes. "Okay. So I really did a number on myself, almost barfing myself to death, but it wasn't intentional. I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy. I'm not suicidal."
"I shouldn't have said what I said. I should have gone about things differently." He looked at their hands and gently let go so he could draw imaginary circles on her palm with his finger.
It made the butterfly wings in her stomach start to flutter.
"Maybe if I hadn't said that. Maybe if we'd gone to the doctor—"
"Sam Winchester, are you blaming yourself for what happened?" Her voice had gone up an octave, and it came out almost as a squeak.
He was silent, but he looked at her with apology in his eyes.
She grabbed his hand and clasped it firmly, soothed by the warmth of it. "Sam, this was not your fault."
He frowned and looked down.
She used her grip on his hand to pull herself, shifting positions a little bit in her bed so she could lay more on her right side, facing him, trying to ignore how shaky and weak she was and how much just that little movement had hurt, how all the fucking tubes sticking out of her had protested. Painfully, she swallowed what little saliva she could muster in her mouth and croaked, "You wanna know what really happened?"
He slowly lifted his head again.
"I was hungry. No, that's not true. I was fucking starving. The argument we had, it was a relief. It gave me a reason to seek food, a justification to comfort myself. If it hadn't been the argument with you, something else would have triggered it. Believe me. Like I said, in the back of my mind, I knew what you meant to say. You're too nice of a guy to say something intentionally hurtful to me—or anybody, for that matter."
He huffed and looked a little remorseful. "I'm no saint, TJ."
"Okay. So maybe you're a dick to Dean—"
He raised his brows.
"—but he's your brother. Siblings treat each other like shit sometimes. It's a law of the universe, and it's been that way since Cain and Abel. I think you do it because you know that Dean will forgive you when no one else would."
"Let's save the psychoanalysis of me for later," he said dryly.
"Okay. Just promise me you won't blame yourself for this, and while you're at it, tell Gretchen the same thing."
His eyes widened.
"I know she tried to call me a bunch after we saw her, and I know why. Tell her I would have kicked her ass if she'd called my mom behind my back."
He gave her a dimpled smile. "You're amazing, you know that?"
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes, wondering why he was even there after knowing what she'd done. She didn't feel amazing at all. She felt like a pathetic moron for what she'd done to herself, and she felt even worse that everyone knew about it, that now she was labeled a bulimic again.
She knew they all felt sorry for her—which she abhorred—and she also knew they wouldn't know how to talk to her, that there would be all these awkward moments she'd have to face with everyone, that there would be a stigma attached to her, just like before. She'd have to go through therapy with a psychologist—maybe even have to do group therapy at some place with an inane name like Whispering Hills. She'd have a nutritionist and a doctor monitoring her weight gain, and the whole time she'd want to tell them all to fuck off. She was angry and profoundly ashamed and afraid—afraid that she would never beat it, that the bulimia would control her life forever.
She felt crushed by an avalanche of despair, and her chest and throat both tightened, which made her cough, which hurt her surgical incision and the fucking tubes sticking out of her chest and made the skin itch and burn around the G-tube, which reminded her again of just how horribly she'd screwed up this time, and she felt hot tears scalding her eyes. She scrunched her eyes closed, trying to keep them inside, but a couple escaped anyway and slid down her cheeks.
Sam's voice was soothing. "Hey, hey. Easy, TJ. Breathe in through your nose. Let the oxygen help you. That's what it's there for."
Her chest tightened even more, and she could hear the annoying beep of the heart-rate monitor start to quicken and felt her heart begin to hammer, perfectly in sync with it. A sharp pain from the area of her incision in her upper abdomen shot through her. She tried to hold in another cough, but it was a mistake to try to suppress it. The cough, when it burst forth from her throat, was ten times more violent than it should have been and jarred her body, making everything hurt even worse than she'd thought possible.
Sam's voice was calm and authoritative. "TJ, listen to me. Take a deep breath through your nose."
She shook her head, her eyes still clenched shut. "It'll hurt," she gasped. She felt his fingers move minutely and realized that she had a death grip on his hand, but she couldn't make herself let go.
"Just try one deep breath, just one."
Reluctantly, she did what he said, drawing in as much breath as she could through her nose, and it was easier than she thought it would be.
"That's it. Concentrate on breathing. Just breathe through it."
She took in a few more breaths, hitching a few times on a stab of pain, but, finally, it started to subside, and the panicky, achy feeling in her chest began to ease. She lay there for a moment, eyes still closed, feeling exhausted. "I hate this," she muttered hoarsely.
"I know, but it'll get better."
She didn't really believe him and felt the burning of tears again, but she was too tired to cry.
As if reading her mind, he said, "You're strong, TJ. You'll get through this." Then he tenderly kissed the back of her hand.
The feel of his lips on her skin was way better than any painkiller, and she soon drifted off to sleep, wondering what she'd done to deserve a friend like Sam.
XXXXXXXX
As Sam wheeled his way down the hallway to the regular room TJ had occupied for a week, now, he saw her and her parents walking slowly, their backs to him. She was supposed to take walks around the hospital regularly in order to get exercise and build strength, and, although she was still weak and sore, she was getting stronger.
She was walking between her parents and was taller than both of them, even her dad, who was about an inch or two shorter than she was. It was sort of endearing to Sam, but it hit him with sudden clarity that, for TJ, it might have just added to her feelings of being an Amazon—which she wasn't. Growing up with a tiny mother like Fern and then surpassing her father in height, for a girl, might not have been such a great thing. For Sam, his height had been a thing of pride—well, to everyone except Dean—but he could see how being such a tall girl may have been hard on TJ.
It had been two weeks since her surgery, and, physically, she was doing well. The rupture was healing as it should be, and there had been no leakage or additional infections.
They had removed all the tubes, and she was now on a soft diet. She ate six small meals a day, and there was always a nutritionist or nurse there to make sure she ate enough, tracking her calories and nutrient intake. TJ had experienced some problems with swallowing, which the doctors had assured everyone was normal, so most of her food had to be pureed.
Sam knew she hadn't been too thrilled about that—not to mention the fact that she hated to be watched like a hawk when she was eating—but she was keeping it down and had gained a little weight. She had a long way to go, though, since she'd been around thirty pounds underweight.
Sam saw TJ and her parents reach the end of the hall and turn around. He had reached her door and sat there, waiting for them. Fern and Vernon gave him smiles of welcome, but TJ's face was an unreadable mask.
Emotionally, TJ hadn't fared so well. She wasn't opening up to the psychologist like the doctor wanted her to, and she had been quiet and withdrawn from them all—Sam, her parents, Gretchen, Dean, Heather—either sleeping or, more recently, doing schoolwork on her laptop. Her professors had been accommodating of her situation and had made it where TJ could download a lot of her assignments from the Internet. She had friends in all her classes, and there was someone willing to share their notes with her in each one, so she hadn't really gotten that far behind. Hopefully, she would be able to pick up where she left off once she was out of the hospital.
Unfortunately, she had just been told earlier that morning that she would have to stay in the hospital another week. Her doctor, psychologist, and nutritionist all wanted her to gain another five pounds before they let her go home.
Her mother had called Sam earlier with the news, and Fern hadn't needed to tell him that it had been a huge disappointment to TJ. She was already depressed, and Fern was worried that the news would send TJ spiraling down to an even darker place.
Although Sam spent a lot of time with TJ every day, Fern had called him to see if he could come earlier than usual this morning. He had blown off another one of his home therapy sessions for his shoulder because TJ was more important. Besides, his shoulder was still getting better, despite the fact that he hadn't been doing his therapy like he should have been, and he figured wheeling himself in his manual chair the way Karen had shown him had helped to strengthen it.
When TJ was close enough, Sam smiled and said, "Hey."
TJ was wearing a thin, silk robe and matching blue silk pajamas her mom had gotten her, and her dark, auburn-chestnut hair was down. It was shiny and looked healthier. Her eyes, however, held the hollow, sad look that Sam had seen too much of lately. "Hey," she said flatly. "Aren't you earlier than usual?"
It was almost like an accusation, and Sam was a little disappointed that she didn't seem happier to see him.
Fern said, "I called him, honey. I thought you could use a friend this mornin'."
TJ's features remained impassive. "I have to study. I have a bunch of assignments I need to work on." With that, she gingerly shuffled back into her room, leaving the three of them in the hallway.
There was a tick in Vernon's jaw. "She ain't too chipper today."
Vernon had to leave tomorrow to get back to his farm, and it didn't take a genius to figure out he was worried and felt guilty about having to leave TJ.
"Did you bring 'em?" Fern asked Sam.
Sam leaned back and patted the backpack on the back of his chair. "Right here."
Fern looked satisfied. "Good. Let's go, then."
They all made their way into TJ's room.
She had the head of her bed upright in a sitting position, covers pulled back and fuzzy white slippers still on her feet, although she'd taken off her robe. She was booting up her laptop, a textbook spread out along with it on the overbed table.
Vernon nonchalantly picked up the textbook and put it back in her gray backpack that was on the floor next to her bed.
TJ's eyes flashed with anger. "Daddy, what are you doin'?"
"Sam brought you somethin' special. You can study later."
TJ shot a look at Sam as if he'd somehow betrayed her.
Fern came over and put her arm around TJ's shoulders, giving her a hug that was meant to be pacifying. "Show her what you brought, Sam."
Sam was a little wary that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all, judging by the stubborn, disgruntled look on TJ's face, but he did as her mom asked and pulled out four DVD cases from his backpack.
TJ's chin jutted out, and her tone was annoyed. "So, what are they?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, it's some John Hughes movies."
TJ looked at him a moment, face unreadable, but then she finally said with guarded interest, "Which ones?"
Huge grins spread across both Fern and Vernon's faces, as if the battle had already been won, but they were standing sort of behind TJ, so she didn't see.
Sam, however, wasn't quite convinced but hoped that they were right. "It's, uh, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, and Pretty in Pink."
TJ just stared at him.
"Your mom told me a while ago that they were your favorites, so I thought they might cheer you up. I was hoping you would watch one or two with me."
There wasn't exactly humor in her eyes, but there was a spark of something, and she poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, making that funny quirk of her mouth. "Those aren't exactly the caliber of Wings of Desire."
"They're not My Life as a Molecule, either."
She gave him a wan smile, but then her eyes got teary and her chin started trembling, and she turned her face into her mom.
Sam felt a jab to his heart.
Fern tightened her hug around TJ's shoulders and gave Sam a bittersweet smile over TJ's head. "Shh. It's okay, sugar," she soothed. After a moment, she loosened her embrace and patted TJ's back. "Why don't you scoot over a little and let Sam get up here with you?" She raised questioning brows at Sam. "That all right with you, hon?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
Vernon arched a brow of fatherly disapproval at the idea of Sam being in bed with his daughter but didn't say anything.
Sam suspected the disapproval was mainly for show, and he had the bitter thought that there was certainly nothing to worry about with him.
TJ took a deep breath and seemed to compose herself, looking back at Sam. "You're not supposed to transfer without a board."
Sam pushed himself over close to her bed and reached up and set the DVDs on the overbed table next to TJ's laptop. "It's okay. Your dad can help me if he doesn't mind. I just need you to lower your bed a little so it's more even with my chair."
She looked worried. "Sam, I don't think—"
"TJ, it's okay. Trust me, I'm not gonna do anything that's gonna mess up my shoulder."
Vernon stepped over near Sam, and TJ lowered her bed as much as possible, still not looking convinced that Sam should be making the transfer.
Sam hooked an arm around Vernon's neck just like he'd done a hundred times with Dean and Bobby, working with Vernon to bear most of his weight. While it had strained Sam's bad shoulder just a bit when he'd pushed off the frame of his chair with his right hand, it was nothing to worry about, and it was good to realize that he was getting stronger, that he wasn't so helpless anymore.
Once he was sitting on the side of the bed, he pulled his legs up, and then Vernon helped him scoot into a comfortable position next to TJ. Sam could feel the tension in TJ and gave her right hand a squeeze with his left, looking to make sure she had enough room and was comfortable. It was a tight space, but she seemed to be okay.
Fern popped open the DVD drive of TJ's laptop and said, "Which one y'all wanna watch first?"
TJ didn't answer and seemed almost in a daze.
Sam gave her a gentle nudge. "Lady's choice."
She thought for a moment and then said quietly, "The Breakfast Club."
Sam hated it that she was still so forlorn and put his left arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. There was really nothing she could do but lay her head on his shoulder. He could sense tension in her neck, and he reached up with his hand and started massaging it.
She let out a small sigh and seemed to relax a little.
He could smell the flower-and-mint scent of her hair and felt a tightening in his belly in a pleasant way.
Fern gave him a wink of approval and took the DVD out of its case, putting it into the laptop. While it was loading, she said to Sam, "May I help you with your shoes, hon?"
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure." Sam wanted to protest that he could do it himself, but TJ seemed content nestled half on his shoulder, half on his chest, and he was afraid to disturb her, afraid it might make her withdraw again. He felt a little self-conscious at first letting Fern take his shoes off, but she was so matter-of-fact and motherly about it that it put him at ease.
She placed them in the seat of his chair, as if remembering that he would need easy access to them when he got ready to put them back on. She always seemed aware of the little things, and Sam wondered how much of that was due to TJ. Whatever the reason, he appreciated it.
Fern clicked play and the previews at the beginning of the movie started. She looked like she was about to say something when there was a knock at the door.
Sam felt TJ stiffen again, despite the fact that he was still rubbing her neck.
A voice from the other side of the door called, "It's Carla."
Dismay crossed Fern's features, but she said, "Come on in, Carla," and clicked the pause button on the movie.
The nurse, a woman in her mid thirties with long blond hair held up in some kind of a clip, opened the door and eyed Sam with surprise.
"Sam's going to watch a movie with TJ," explained Fern.
Carla nodded and looked at TJ tentatively, as if trying to gauge what kind of mood TJ was in. "Hey, sweetie. It's time for your mid-morning snack." She was holding a large plastic cup with a lid and a straw sticking out of the top. "We thought you might want to try a straw today. It's a chocolate shake."
Until today, TJ hadn't been allowed to eat or use anything, including straws, that might cause excess air to accumulate in her esophagus or stomach, so Sam guessed she was making progress if they were offering her a straw.
TJ rolled carefully onto her back, her head still resting on Sam's shoulder. The nurse handed her the shake, and she took a sip. She made a sour face and said, "This isn't a real milkshake. It's that Ensure crap."
The nurse smiled nervously. "I know, sweetie, but we've got to get some nutrients in you, too. We can't just give you junk."
TJ didn't say anything, just leaned forward, grimacing a little at the pain the movement caused in her still-sore abdomen, and set the shake on the overbed table defiantly.
Carla sighed, obviously having been through something similar before with TJ and trying to maintain her patience. "TJ, you know I can't leave until you drink most of that."
TJ's expression was mutinous. "I guess you're gonna be here for a while."
"TJ," Fern said with a mild warning, "just drink it, honey. The sooner you get it down, the sooner you can watch the movie."
TJ didn't respond to her mother and just stared at Carla.
Vernon stepped over to Carla and put a proprietary hand on her back, steering her toward the door. "Carla, I tell you what. We'll make sure she drinks ever' drop."
"But I have to record her intake."
"Well, can't you do that by just looking at whatever's left in the cup when you come back later?"
"Well, yeah, but..." she left it unspoken that someone was supposed to make sure that TJ actually drank it, that TJ didn't pull a trick like pouring it in the toilet or down the sink in the bathroom.
Sam looked down at TJ. His arm was still around her shoulders, and he could feel her grow even more rigid. Her jaw was locked tight, and her anger and embarrassment were almost palpable.
Sam said to the nurse with intensity, "It's okay," and gave her a pointed look that said following the rules wasn't always the best course of action.
"Well—"
"Atta girl, Carla," said Vernon, herding her to the door and out into the hall, his voice booming even though he could no longer be seen. "Let's give them kids some quality time together. They ain't had much alone time lately, and you know how us country folk are. Sam and TJ have always been real close siblings."
Fern rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her cheek, shaking her head. "Lord, have mercy. That man'll say anything."
Sam grinned and looked down at TJ, but he faltered at the look on her face.
If she had heard anything that had been said, she was not amused. Instead, she was just staring at the milkshake, her expression stony and unyielding.
TBC