Childhood Lovers

Childhood Lovers. 29

The halls were bland, empty, and quiet, with just a few nurses wandering around. A wave of chills traveled through my body. I didn't know whether they were caused by the air conditioning, which was on full blast, or the anticipation of what awaited me.

The nurse led us to room 203, then left us to continue on our own. An attractive, middle-aged doctor loitered in front of the door.

“Hey everyone,” he said, extending his hand out for a round of hand-shakes. “You must be the family. I’m Dr. Miller.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rebecca replied. “How’s everything?”

“Not good, but not bad either,” Dr. Miller reported, flipping through the pages on his clipboard. “Your son has acquired a great deal of damage to his body. He tore the ACL in his right knee, so we performed an Arthroscopic surgery. His left elbow and wrist are fractured, a few of his ribs are broken, and his deep gashes have been stitched up. Lastly, he’s got a mild concussion and some internal bleeding.”

As he listing all of the injuries, I couldn’t imagine the kind of unbearable pain and suffering Chase was going through. My heart shattered into pieces as I thought of the agony he was experiencing.

“Oh God, it all sounds horribly dreadful,” Rebecca muttered, her eyes filling with tears. 

“I know it sounds like a lot, but look at the bright side. With a bit of time and physical therapy, he’ll be able to make a full recovery,” Dr. Miller pointed out, trying to lighten our spirits.

Hearing good news is always pleasing, but it never erases or numbs the present stage of tragedy. Eventually, Chase would get better, but right now, he was suffering. 

At last, the wait was over. Dr. Miller turned the door handle, and allowed us inside. If I could put the emotional pain I felt into words, I would. But no word, no phrase, no expression can convey it. I snuck a glance at Rebecca and my mother, who were both crying like me. My father, standing strong, let one single tear fall from the corner of his eye.

Chase laid helplessly on the bed. A monitor and an IV were hooked up to his mangled body. The leg that had been performed on was wrapped and elevated in the air. His elbow, resting in a sling, was plastered up to his mid arm. Random patches of his skin were stitched up and wrapped in medical cloth. Bruises and open cuts were scattered around his body.

Rebecca scrambled to his side, kneeled down onto the cold floor, and held her son’s good hand.

“My baby . . .” was all she managed to say before breaking into sobs. She bent over, smothering her face into Chase’s mattress. Chase lifted his tan, good arm and rested it around his mother’s shaking shoulders.

“It’s going to be alright . . . I’m going to be fine, you’ll see” he whispered, as he stroked the back of her head. 

My father put his arm around me, and pulled me closer to him and my mother. Our family was distant, but unlike the Levines, we weren’t being pulled apart by devastation. Watching their family fall to pieces was a wake up call. Our family had to learn to appreciate each other, appreciate what we had, before it was too late.

After her sobs faded, Rebecca sat up, took a deep breath, and wiped her eye make up.

“I’m okay . . .” with another deep breath, she continued. “I should probably go visit your father and fill him in.” 

Chase gave her hand one last squeeze before she got up.

“We should probably go with you,” my mother suggested. “Is that okay with you, Hayden?”