The weather outside reflects my mood. Now that adrenaline has dissipated, I am aware of how exhausted and sore I am. My muscles scream from the struggles of the night, and my chest aches. Bruising. Bruised ribs. None cracked, but now the bruising is becoming visibly evident. Regina was able to escape after our interview, and I had told Sean about her and our legal agreement over the interview and background info. He seemed a bit shocked, but pleasantly so at the idea of getting the media on our side. I also told him of what she had told me. This sent him running outside to make more calls.
I am thankful to him for taking my dogs into his home for his wife to help look after. I'm even more grateful that he brought us hygiene products, and clothes from the house. I feel much better having a legitimate shirt on. I'm sure Dallas would feel better too having his pajamas on rather than this thin hospital gown. I had requested Sean bring button up pajama shirts, to make dressing around his head and leads easier.
I change the basin water several times to keep the temperature nicely warm, and I left the towels on the window seal to let the cloudy sun heat them. I know in an hour it will be dark and rainy again. It has been extreme and unpredictable all day. I sit the products on his side table as I work. I wash him top to bottom, drying quickly so he doesn't get cold and covering him with fresh towels for privacy as I work. Once I get to his dangle bits, I groan and look up at the ceiling while I clean.
"Sorry Dal. I just had to get you clean, you smelled like sweat and iodine solution. I really hope you remember none of this, because I know you would laugh your ass off at my sad ass attempt at playing nurse here."
I finish his bed bath, and I run the lotion under hot water from the faucet in the room to break the chill. I lotion him down, using a nice boubon scent that mimics his favorite types of cologne. I style his hair as he likes to wear it, and I tuck another towel under his chin as I clean his around his cheeks and jawline with a razor. I know he was growing a short beard in, so I intend to keep it soft and neat for him.
I brush his teeth, and trim his nails and I stand back to admire him. He looks more like himself this way. He looks cozy, and clean. I put his socks on and I pull up a leg and begin stretching and working his muscles. I do so many reps on each limb, then carefully rotate his head and I use the drawsheet to turn him sides and prop him with pillows.
"Would you like a job here?" Dr. Rogers asks as he enters the room, admiring my work with Dallas.
"I actually applied here once, and you guys were quick to reject me."
"Our loss really. He's a large man. I'm impressed you bathed and dressed him alone. You would be a natural here."
"I'll be here a bit, and I'll gladly do his care free of charge. Can you keep his room private?"
"With your case, and the media attention on him we've all agreed to keep him private as soon as he was admitted. You being the exception. I insist though, since you are technically admitted, that you actually rest some. You can't pour from an empty glass. You didn't eat breakfast, so try lunch?" He hands me a pamphlet. "There's tons of options. Food here is actually enjoyable! I eat here on my breaks most times. Dallas is still getting NG feedings, but you are welcome to put liquids on the oral care sponges and keep his mouth moist."
"Thank you. I'll try to eat something."
"Please do. I don't imagine I'd enjoy the struggle of placing you an NG." With that, he points at me and leaves.
I shower, locking the room door. I turn my camera on my phone on and set it facing Dallas to record. Excessive, but I have little trust in anything. I am terrified that someone will mess with him in this state where he cannot tell me or defend himself. I shower quickly, and dress. I take a few minutes to dry my hair and care for my own teeth and skin after peeping out to see he is fine. The air of these rooms, combined with the storny weather outside makes wet hair cold and uncomfortable. I know it will frizz, but I thoroughly dry it and braid it back.
I check my camera, unlock the door and lay in front of Dallas. I'd give anything to here him groan or complain right now. Just to make some sound. I know this is best for his health, but I am frightened he will be like this even after. That fear inspired me to have Sean help me with some extra paperwork, ensuring he cannot be taken off anything g or listed DNR outside of my presence. I also made Sean emergency power of attorney. Should anything happen to me, he will remain in good hands.
Sean was uncomfortable at first, but after what Regina had told me it only felt right to plan for the worst. I wouldn't want his decisions and livelihood going to his family, who has made no attempt to see him after being told they couldn't put me out of our home. Our home. I still can't believe he done that. His one step ahead attitude definitely saved our asses here. I have no idea what I'd have done if I couldn't see him.
I order a soup, grilled cheese, and chocolate milk from the lunch pamphlet and I set it in the clear box at the door for staff to collect. I know Dallas's love of chocolate milk, and I plan to give it to him on the sponges. I pull up the camera app on my phone and check the house again. Police and the like seem to be gone, and for some reason it brings relief. This particular set were rude, and the idea of them trashing the house in the name of Investigation makes me curious what all has been damaged. I'm all curious as to what is going on, and why I am not being informed of any of this. I bet Cheryl is though.
Lunch arrives, and I feel guilty, but I eat. I give Dallas all the chocolate milk that I can and I reposition him once again. I raise him to a slight sitting position this time, and I work his hands and fingers to relax them from his fists. I flinch as a large leaf splats into the window, having been whipped by strong winds. My mind keeps going I circles. It replays the events of that night, Regina's words, and even Dallas's parents and their odd behavior. I keep feeling as if I am missing something.
I turn the TV on, and lay down by Dallas. I was cramped before, but I moved my bed against his and made more space. I am too ignorant to heed my own advice, and I watch the news. If the police won't spill, the media will. You can hide nothing from them when they want to pry. Sure enough, Regina is downtown in front of the police station, beating the door and demanding answers. I smirk as I watch the hateful officer that interrogated me be bullied and stalked by her. She ducks under his arm through the door as he asks her to leave and a crew rushes behind her.
"Why wasn't our tip wasn't investigated? Sir! Sir! You cannot outrun me! The public needs answers. Alina needs answers. There's a man laying comatose in a bed right now who deserves answers. These two incidents could be related!"
"We are still investigating. Informing the public could ruin our chances at getting justice. Is that what you want?"
"No. That is why our network sent you the tip we recieved!" A group of officers shove her and her crew back through the doors as she continues to argue and heckle.
She withdraws finally, and I can tell she's upset. She seems invested in this case, and I actually starting to believe She could actually be sincere. I grow bored and switch the other news network, and they are playing an interview with Dallas's parents. This catches my eye, and I turn up the volume as I prepare to cross examine the shit I know will roll from their mouths.
"There is no worse feeling in the world than to recieve that call. The call that your baby, your only child, is critical. I am still shaking. He's a good man. A kind man. He cares for everybody, even those that don't deserve it. There's a lesson to be learned here. Sometimes God removes people from our lives to protect us, we shouldn't go seeking them out." She dabs her eyes, and the bangle on her wrist catches my eye. It has a sapphire and a topaz gem. I can't read the inscription, but my blood pressure begins to rise. I yank my cellphone out and I quickly snap a photo. I send it straight to Sean. That's my bracelet. Dallas bought me that for our third wedding anniversary. Has she been in our house? Those are scorpio and Virgo stones, mine and Dallas's. I know for fact his mother has an April birthday.
"Are you certain? This is getting weird." Sean replies in text.
"There's a camera in the house. It's linked to our cells. Supports three devices. Can I link you?"
"Yes. I would like to have access to anything you see suspicious. I can use it in court if necessary."
"Are you implying Dallas should never have sought Alina out after their separation? He is credited with having saved her."
"Sometimes our good deeds can interrupt someone's karma. For all his help, look where it has gotten him. Shot in his own home. Thankfully the man wasn't using the right caliber bullet, or he would be gone." She sobs. This strikes me as odd. Why would a man break into our home and shoot with a bullet that might not finish the job?
"Her interviews. Watch them. Something is off here. Still no attempts to visit, but she clearly stated the 'burglar' used a lower caliber bullet? Why would he do that?" I send my suspicions to Sean.
"Might I have Regina's contact information? I'd like to get in good with that network, especially since it is the one that recieved that last lead."
"Gotcha! Sending now!" I send her email and number to Sean, and I decide to text her myself. I text her about the bracelet, and my suspicions that his parents have been in our home. Something isn't right with them. I can't explain it, or prove it, but something deep within my gut won't let it go.
I begin to grow an appetite, and I still feel guilty for eating, but I decide that a few snacks and a book or puzzle might keep me sane in here. I miss Dallas on the cheek, and I reposition him, it has been three hours. I tuck him in and I head out of the room, stopping by the nurses desk to let them know I will be out for about thirty minutes. She assures me they'll keep a good eye on him, and waves me off to go on. She finds my overprotective nature amusing, and she has been nothing short of supportive. He has been lucky to have a great team here.
I make my way down the stairs, too nervous of the possibility of getting stuck on the elevator to use it. I descend the stairs like a mad woman and round the hallway that should take me to the cafeteria, vending machines or a gift shop. If memory serves me right. I'm thankful that Sean brought our wallets, I'd be up the creel without mine right now. The smell of food wafts through the air, and I chase it down to the cafeteria where I see employees sitting out fresh pizza slices under the warmer.
Others see me, but nobody gives me angry looks. I suppose in this setting, I am relatable. We are all here because we or someone we live has had better days. I smile at a few people who look too long,, and they smile back before looking away. It's strange not to be a pariah here. I grab a slice of the fresh pizza, a little personal tub of ice cream, a bag of pretzels and a little container of white cheddar dip. I ask for a bag and to my shock the employee pays for my food.
"I have my wallet. You really don't-"
"I insist. It is on me. I hope your boyfriend recovers soon." She thrusts her hand over the counter and shakes mine. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"
"Thank you! I really appreciate that. Are you sure? I don't want to-"
"I'm positive!"
"Alright. Thank you. What's your name?"
"Lindsey!"
"Do you always work this shift?"
"Yes! Everyday but weekends, and always this lane." I look up to see the register number. Number three.
"You might see a lot of me. I like this time of day here. It's less crowded and everyone is pleasant. I'll come down during your shifts and to your register." I smile at her enthusiasm.
"I would enjoy that! If I'm ever on break, go to Trey. He's been dying to meet you too. He's my best friend, register two. You can't miss him, he has purple hair." She points to a young man and I wave at him. He bounces on his heels and with no customers in his lane, he rushes over.
"HI! I'm Trey." We shake hands.
"Hello, I'm Alina. Nice to meet you."
"Like, no offense, but real Alina? Here with Dallas Alina?" I set my bag down and raise my pant leg to slap my prosthetic.
"The OG, Alina." I laugh a bit as shock crosses his face. He was obviously not expecting the prosthetic and it cracks me up. Lindsey is dying, and she slaps my hand.
"Okay. You have made my day. I wasn't expecting you to pop that leg out."
"You gotta expect the unexpected with crazy people."
"I don't want to seem nosey, but is he ok?"
"Stable, yes. Under medical rest, but we aren't sure how he will be or what his limitations might be when he is able to be woken." Their faces pale a bit.
"Oh. Well I certainly hope he is able to get back to himself in time."
"I hope so too. I used to joke and wish for him to be quiet, but now that he's actually quiet and resting I'm not sure how to react. It's so strange."
"He seems so energetic and goofy. It would be hard to adjust I imagine."
"It is going to be a challenge. He's here though, that's the main thing. Everything else can be worked out."
"He's got you, that's the main thing." I look to Lindsey as she interrupts and she smiles.
"My mom is head nurse of your floor. She never gives details of course, but she tells me you are unbelievable with him."
"That means a lot to me. Thank you both. You guys are awesome. It is nice to have friends here." They hug me and tell me the fastest route back up, and I notice that even in the halls nobody treats me like a menace here. They either smile, or ignore, and I'm fine with either as I hustle to find the gift shop.
I snack and stretch out by Dallas. I read on a mystery novel I found, and wotk a few word searches when my phone dings. A text? I gran it quickly to check, but it's from a strange number. Hope all is okay. Love and prayers, Riley. <3 I don't know a Riley, so I text them back to tell them they have the wrong number. I change into sweatpants and a tee-shirt and return in time to see that they've texted me back. No. This this Alina? I worked hard to find your number. Please respond. I won't tell anyone. I am startled, but I decide to barter. How do I know I can trust you? I send the message through, and the response stuns me. Don't trust dad. I called Regina. I gave the tip. The tip was mentioned on the news, so I can't put any faith in that. What tip? I counter. That information was not told to my knowledge. The tip from the web. The tip that you are in danger. They want you. I'm trying to help. My hair raises.
I have to stand and pace. I screenshot the messages, blacking out the name and number, and I send it to Dallas. This way, I have it on another device. I trust Sean, but I don't want this person put in danger incase they are actually a source of help. Thank you. Who is dad, if you don't mind? I am glued to the screen, awaiting a reply. Dallas Sr. Our dad. I have to reread that twice, and I'm immediately skeptical. Dallas has spoken of his father's affairs in the past though, so in theory he could have other children.
You are Dallas's sibling? I see that they have read this, and finally they reply. His sister. My mother was Nora. I go to Dallas's cellphone, and I filter his messages to search for 'Nora.' Nothing but one message request comes up. A message request from Riley Wilders. My hands shake as I hurriedly open it and find the charger so the battery life can't drop.
Hi Dallas! I have always wanted to contact you, but I wasn't sure you knew me or would respond. I hope you and your wife are both doing great. I've followed your story since it first made news. Anyways, I hope to hear from you someday. It would be nice to know my brother, love Riley.
She's telling the truth, if this is her? My brain can't process this information quickly enough. I need something physical though. I need some record or indication of her mother, Nora. What is Nora's last name? Does their father know of her? I also need proof that my bracelet is missing, and that Cheryl's is indeed mine. It unsettles me that she wore it in public, nonetheless. Like a message to me. Hi, I'm Cheryl. I'm a wealthy, entitled bitch. I went through your things and I stole. You are going to be a suspect in my son's attack, in which you saved his life, and yet I am being shady and am not a person of interests. She should be a person of interest. She will be. If his parents are hiding something, I will rip them wide open for the world to see. I screenshot Riley's messages to Dallas and to me, and I save them to my phone. I never know when I am going to need this, or even if this will effect anything, but she was the 'tipper'. So this all has to tie in.
Outside, the sun is starting to set, but the storm has no intentions of letting up and neither have I. I hug Dallas tightly, and I take a steady breath as I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I'd rather go tomorrow, but I can't wait. I have so many questions in my head and I feel compelled to check our house. Something is calling me there. I text Regina and Sean, to let them know where I am going. Dallas gets his teeth brushed, his catheter bag emptied, repositioned and an extra blanket as the room is getting chilly. I give him a last once over before I leave the room, telling nurses and the doctor in the hallway I have to return home for some things and to keep check on him.
I pull up my app, and I find the house to be empty. I go around to the hospital front, where everything is brightly lit and where I can be seen clearly if cameras should need to be pulled. A precaution that's morbid, but now necessary. I sit on the bench near the bus stop, and I wait for a taxi to pass so I can flag it. The sky is dark grey, and the rain is slowing, but I am too concentrated to fret the rain. I'm going home, just long enough to document and to prove my bracelet was taken. Long enough to grab the laptop of Dallas's, and scan the house for anything important or business related missing. Cheryl was right, people can be removed for our safety, and she was dumb as hell to disassociate herself with me then seek me out in the media negatively. Tomorrow, I will ruin her pity parade.