Shouldn't Have Dealt - Book II

Chapter 6 - Trying

Chapter 6 – Trying

I promised Ray I won’t go near the Medical Center to check on Damien. All night he was busy contacting friends who might have known Damien’s medical condition all for the love of me. He literally did not sleep because I was thinking of leaving in the middle of night. However, I don’t think I can keep up to my promise. 

I just have to see him even for a little while. I have to get rid of this huge baggage inside my chest because it is making my breathing a little difficult.

I just have to know how he’s doing. The reports Ray gathered from friends are not just sufficient.

But my legs freeze at the sight of his name on the door. It is only now that I realize that what I am about to do is such a great risk. Entirely clueless of what Damien will think when he sees me there, I just let out a sigh and yield everything to fate. I don’t know how will react but I don’t think he will kick me out of the room. Maybe somewhere in the deepest corners of his heart lingers the desire to mend our indifferences. Maybe he too, like me, thinks it is time to forgive and forget. Why did he even come to see me last night when he had no intentions of reconciliation or whatsoever?

The door opens and a petite nurse in light blue scrub suit comes out with a tray of medicines in her hands.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” she asks.

“This is Damien Etheridge’s room, right?” I respond, quite dazed.

“You got the right room, ma’am. Are you family?”

I shake my head. “No. Just a friend.”

“Oh, I see. The patient is still asleep. The narcotics are helping him with the pain.”

“How is he?” I don’t know what I would do if the nurse will tell me about something I am not ready to hear about.

“He’s okay now. Surgery was immediately done last night to stop some bleeding inside his body and to fix some broken ribs. He’ll probably wake up in 1-2 hours after the narcotics have waned down.”

The squeezing in my heart which seems eternal for me loosens a bit.

How okay is okay? I want to ask.

“You might want to go in, ma’am. There’s no one inside,’’ states the nurse.

I guess giving her a dainty smile is enough for a ‘thank-you’. Then I proceed inside Damien’s room.

He is lying on the hospital bed with a plastic cannula on his nose attached to an oxygen tank. There’s also a plastic bag hanging on a pole beside him that delivers fluid to his body through a line. I’m pretty familiar to all the stuffs inside the room. They are already like my perennial companion whenever Dad is in the hospital.

His eyes are closed; he is sleeping like a baby. Reminds me of the night we were together in his gigantic library. So much peace and vigor.

But it’s not the case now.

Damien looks worn out and tired. He’s grown so much facial hair. His skin texture has gone dry and rough. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s also lost so much weight. The firmness and the size of his arms thinned. He’s lost his glow. My tears freely descend to my cheeks. I have to bite my tongue so that I don’t create a noise. I did not want Damien to wake up because I am moaning in misery. If there is a cure for the pain in my heart now, I’d want it. I’d die to have it. It is hell to see Damien like this. He’s like he’s dead already—with that body of his, I don’t know how he’s able to breathe.

With my hand shaking, I reach for his—my fingers intertwined with his. I bend down on my knees so that I could kiss his hand.

Somehow, this is better. Damien will have no way to avoid me.