(Adam)
Apparently, general anesthesia may knock me out, but it does not shut my brain off. It shot into overdrive during the surgery, leaving me with dreams of us and Pentatonix giving another killer performance on New Year's Eve. When I came to, I had melodies and chords dancing through my brain, mashups and medleys toying at my fingers, and harmonies and vocal percussion on my tongue. I. Needed. To. Write. This. Down. I had a music-adled mind and the only cure known to man was writing and composing. Unfortunately, the doctors didn't seem to understand this, keeping me for the night away from every single musical-composing device I had. Not to mention the fact that my hand was out of commission. What could I do one-handed? My left hand at that! I can't play anything with my damn right hand buried under six feet worth of dressings! And it's freaking hard to write music without, well, music! Arrghh! And I couldn't just not write; I had too much in my head to keep it in there. I had to transpose my thoughts into workable music, I had to. My mind was overflowing.
Miserable, almost hearing the lead vocals in my ears, I grasped at Chris as the nurse loaded meant a wheelchair to take me upstairs to a general room.
"Chriiis," I moaned, resting my forehead on his arm. "Helllp meee."
"Adam?" both he and the nurse pushing me upstairs asked concernedly. Tris paused in her step, a frown crossing her brow.
"I have to—ooo!" I bounced up in my wheelchair happily, a great idea for a song shaking around in my head. Yes! Yes! This—it was going to be amazing! If I could get Avi and Tim to.... yes, and Mitch could take the.... oh my God, what if Austin and Kirstie... I let out a strangled cry, afraid to lose a single thought.
"You have to what, honey?" Ericha asked, switching Cerise to her other arm.
"Go to the bathroom?" Dad suggested. "Get something to drink?"
"We'll help you do whatever it is you need," Rob volunteered. "Or do it for you."
"I've got sooo many ideas in my head, I got to write them down," I moaned. Ooo, ooo, what if we did a Pentatonix song and Pentatonix did a Home Free song?
"What?" The nurse dropped her head down to peer at me. She glanced up at Chris and everyone. "What's he talking about?"
"Danged if I know," Dad mumbled, eyeing me as though I was losing it.
"Adam?" Chris asked me concernedly.
I grabbed at Rob frantically, tugging at his arm. "I. Have. Ideas. For New Year's Eve. C'mon, Rob, help me, I gotta write them down!"
"Oh, for songs?" he asked as Chris picked up my right hand.
"Yes," I moaned, wiggling a free finger. "I need.... get our bag, when I get situated somewhere, help me write, please."
"OK, calm down." Chris patted my hand. "We'll help you. Let's just—"
"What does he think he needs?" the nurse asked. "What?"
"He's fine," Rob assured her. "He just wants us to do something for him when he gets situated."
"Oh, OK." The nurse rolled me forward into the elevator. It dinged at us, making me think of fun sounds Kevin and I could put in our songs. Maybe some appropriately placed dings in the songs? Ooo, what songs did Pentatonix have? I was going to have to dig in their library. This was going to be so much fun. Ohhh, lets do a medley of their and our songs and showcase some of our best. Well, for us, that'd be Ring of Fire, God Bless the USA, My Church, Amazing Grace, How Great Thou Art. I wondered how they'd feel about doing country. Or gospel. I knew they mainly did pop. Personally, I like pop; I'm down for pop. I pulled on Rob's arm as we got off the elevator.
"How do you feel about pop?" I asked him urgently.
"I'm dying of thirst," he told me, shaking his head. "I'd kill for a Dr. Pepper."
I 'pop'ped him on the arm. "Not soda pop. Pop music."
Chris snorted at him as the nurse slowed down in front of rooms 380-382, then turned me back around and pushed me two doors down into 378.
"Here you are," she told me, gesturing to someone across the hall. I got rolled in, still talking to Rob.
"See, Pentatonix does mainly pop. I'm thinking it'd be fun to mix things up. I want them to do one of our songs—I hope they're cool with country or gospel; that's a bulk of what we got. Probably need to call, ah, Kevin. Hey, you got Kevin's number? Of course you do, you were talking to them—pfft!" I babbled, Rob following me timidly as the nurse and the woman she'd gestured over parked me in front of the bed. The new nurse, a woman whose name tag read 'Jackie', had just popped a thermometer in my mouth unexpectedly.
"Mr. Rupp," she said firmly. "We need to get your vitals. If you would, please settle down for a minute."
Mom patted my arm. "Take a breath, honey. Let's take care of this first."
Jackie held the thermometer an inch from my lips. "Open your mouth, please."
If I'm opening it, it's going to be talking. She poked the thermometer at it, so I opened up. "You think Avi might enjoy some Ring of—oof!" I batted the thermometer away.
"Adam, hush," Ericha instructed me, placing Cerise on Tris' lap. "Let this nice nurse take your temperature."
Jackie giggled. "Let me clarify. Open your mouth and don't talk."
Not sure that's going to be possible right now. I opened it just a tad. "Or how about—"
"Adam, cooperate!" Dad ordered crossly. "Be quiet and let her get your temperature!"
I clasped a hand to my head, trying to stem the flow of information. If we could just get hold of Pentatonix—Tim and Avi could be killer on Ring of Fire together. That song has got to be one of our biggest hits; we had to incorporate it somehow. And Elvira—or is that too country? Jackie was again tapping at my mouth with that stupid thermometer. I opened it and consciously clenched down on my racing thoughts to let her get my temperature.
"Thank you," she stated, making a quick note and grabbing my wrist. I yelped at the movement, my eyes tearing in pain. Well, that's one way to get arrangements out of my head—fill it with pain instead! "Oh, sweetheart. I hurt you, I'm so sorry!"
I looked up at her accusingly, her still trying to take my pulse on my sore wrist. "Use the other one."
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she apologized again, dropping my sore arm and moving to my left arm. She hrmphed for a minute before asking, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a fast heart rate?"
"Nope," I grunted at her, head now drooped over and afraid to move my hand.
"What is it?" Mom asked worriedly as Ericha dropped to her hands and knees to get our escaping daughter out from under the sink.
"Well, you did just cause him pain," she pointed out, her cute butt sticking straight out as she went after her. "What'd you think—ah-choo!"
"Check it again in a minute," Jackie decided, marking a few things down. "You want some pain medicine? Looks like your doctor prescribed you some oxycodone. I need to get you hooked up on normal saline and lactated ringer's."
"Yeah," I muttered, staring down at the bandages that were formerly my hand. Hmm. What'd we have that's less country-sounding? Honey I'm Good, maybe? Or Can't Stop the Feeling? Yeah, that'd be good, pretty sure they'd be cool with either of those.
Jackie leaned over to press the call button. "Hey, Sylvia, bring me the oxycodone for room 378, please. And the IV solutions."
"Mr. Rupp?" she asked, sounding like one of those ancient walkie-talkie things.
"Yes, please," she requested, just watching me for a minute. I lifted an eyebrow at her.
"What?" I asked warily.
"Heart rate significantly elevated but respiratory rate only mildly elevated." She shook her head. "Don't make sense."
"Sorry, I'll try to breathe faster," I muttered, making Chris snort.
"Just unusual is all," Jackie commented as the other nurse—Sylvia, did she say?— came running in with the medicine and tripped over Ericha as she backed out from under the sink with Cerise. Ericha dropped Cerise squarely on her butt, making her squawk and Ericha curse. Sylvia crawled to her feet and pulled herself up, looking back at her nervously.
"I'm so sorry. Are you OK?" she asked, tripping Chris up as she wandered around gathering my pill bottle and IV things that were (luckily) in sterile sealed bags. Chris started to fall over, throwing his hands out to catch himself, only knocking the IV pole over and onto Tris, who had to dance out of the way before she got knocked over. She twirled right into Mom, who fell backwards onto her butt.
"Oww!" she yelped.
Dad reached over to help her up, as the only Rupp left standing. "You OK, Cin?"
"I'll survive," Mom said, brushing her skirt back down. She turned eyes onto Sylvia, who was now meekly setting things on the table.
"Sorry about that," she mumbled, lining up IV supplies. "Is everyone OK?"
"Been better," Chris remarked, flexing his wrist.
"Sylvia, why?" Jackie wanted to know. "You don't have to come running like that."
"Didn't want to make Mr. Rupp wait for his medicine?" she asked as Rob studied Chris' wrist. He was flexing it, so it must be in working order. Good, 'cuz I needed someone to write down the music in my head.
"A few seconds isn't going to kill him," Jackie told her dryly.
"You made me drop my child!" Ericha said accusingly.
"I'm really sorry," Sylvia said again, picking up my good hand and feeling around for a vein. I watched her carefully as she washed her hands and then then swabbed at the back of my hand. I wasn't entirely trusting of her at this point, especially with a big ass IV needle. "A small stick, OK?"
I winced as the needle pierced my skin, but at least she managed to hit a vein without issues. She secured it with some tape and straightened the IV pole, hanging a couple of bags.
"Feeling calm?" Jackie asked me.
I just shrugged. "Calm as I'll ever be, I guess."
She pressed two fingers into my left wrist, checking my pulse. "Hmm." She wrote it down.
"What was his heart rate?" Mom asked from the chair.
"90," she answered. "Slightly elevated, but better than the 110 I got earlier."
Sylvia picked my hand up and held the bottle of medicine to my hospital bracelet then looked at me dutifully. "Name and date of birth?"
"You just verified that," I pointed out.
"I know, but it's protocol with medicine administration," she said apologetically. "And believe me, I know who you are. I love your music, by the way. Any new songs in the works?"
"Maybe," I said cagily, winking at her.
"Ooo, like what?" she asked excitedly.
"Sylvia," Jackie scolded her, reaching for the pill bottle and repeating the same maneuver. "Name and date of birth."
I sighed. "Adam Rupp, date of birth April 23, 1982."
Jackie nodded and started to open the bottle but Sylvia put a hand on her arm, shaking her head. Shaking her head? What the hell? Mom and Dad also seemed puzzled. Chris, Rob, and Tristan were cackling away, but Ericha was too aggravated over Sylvia's initial clumsiness to pay her any mind.
"Date of birth is incorrect," Sylvia told Jackie.
"A discrepancy?" Jackie spun the bottle around. "April 23, 1982." She picked up my wrist and studied my bracelet. "April 23, 1982. And he just said April 23, 1982." She turned to Sylvia, frowning. "I don't see a discrepancy."
"It's incorrect," Sylvia claimed.
"Pretty sure I know my own date of birth, thanks," I said dryly, Chris, Rob, and Tris close to losing it in the corner. "I'mma need you three to get it together over there."
"Nuh-uh." Sylvia shook her head. "You're off by four months."
"I'm off by four months?" I demanded, trying to sit up, wincing when my sore hand touched the mattress.
Her head was shaking back and forth. "You were born August 23, 1982."
"No, I wasn't!" I snapped, Mom now stirring next to me.
"I'm his mother. I am well aware of when I gave birth to him. It was April 23, 1982."
"Nope," Sylvia insisted. "Not what multiple sources on the internet say."
Chris did lose it at this point, smacking at Rob and laughing his head off.
"Told ya!" Rob laughed, Tris now throwing her head back and laughing.
"I don't care what the internet says!" I snapped again. "Without a doubt, I was born on April 23, 1982!"
"Then the internet is wrong!" Dad declared. "I know when my son was born."
"Multiple sources on the internet," she said doubtfully.
"Well, three sane Rupps say otherwise!" I pointed out, glaring at the two insane Rupps and one insane Lundquist. "Pretty sure we're more reliable sources than the internet!"
"He came out of me!" Mom grumbled. "And I promise you, it was on April 23, 1982, at 6:05 in the morning! Now give him his medicine!"
Sylvia squinted at us, then glanced at Ericha, holding a now quiet Cerise. "But the internet says..."
"The internet is wrong!" Dad told her as Chris came over to us, his phone in hand and extended. He poked it in my face and I found myself nose-to-nose with, well, myself. Blinking, I pulled myself further away from myself so I could read my own bio. Ugh, why'd they use that picture? Out of all the pictures I've ever taken in my professional life, and they chose that one? Adam Rupp. Country music singer. Birthplace, Mankato, Minnesota (well, that was accurate at least), date of birth August 23, 1982, age 34. I laughed at the page. "I don't know who created that, but it was no one who actually knows me and it's definitely not official or correct." I took the phone from him and awkwardly poked at buttons with my left hand, googling myself. I managed to type SAFN, AFSN, ZADU, and SSSK before he yanked it from me and typed it for me.
"See why I need your help?" I asked pointedly. There was no way in hell I'd be able to write music on five tiny lines like this. On paper or computer.
"I'll help you, just chill," he promised, pulling first my Facebook page, which I visit about once in a blue moon, my Twitter that I check about once a month, a Wikipedia article (I'm sure with questionable accuracy), Youtube videos (at least that I can control), The Range Place (the hell is that?), and a top ten list. Curiosity getting the better of me, I poked blindly at the top ten list, setting off an ad and then opening a whole new tab.
Chris yanked his phone back. "Whataya trying to do?"
"Here is his driver's license!" Ericha said, flitting the contents of my wallet at Sylvia. "Date of birth April 23, 1982, blonde hair, blue eyes, 6'3", 190 pounds. Satisfied? This is what is on file at the DMV and SSA!"
"I wanted to see the top ten list," I complained, still trying to touch the screen with my left hand, only to have pushed back down by Rob.
Chris toyed at it for a minute. "You are on it, alone with Kevin Olasoly or whatever—"
"O-lu-so-la," I pronounced for him.
"—of Pentatonix, Layne Stein of Voice Play, damn ads...," he cursed.
"Oh, all right," Sylvia finally grumbled, already overruled by Jackie, who'd produced a nice large cup of water for me to take my pill with. Now actually coordinating the actions of putting it in my mouth, holding it in place, and swallowing the pill was whole different story. I balanced it on my tongue while attempting to pick up the cup, only succeeding in sloshing half of it on me. Sylvia immediately started trying to dab my chin and chest dry before Rob pushed her aside. The pill starting to sour on my tongue, I removed it and tried to do it the opposite way—water, then pill. I spilled a little more water before finally getting a decent mouthful of water. I'd put the pill on a napkin on the bed table while filling up with water and it took two tries to make my non-dominant left hand pick up the pill—and then the napkin came with it. I tried to shake it off before finally snapping at it with my right mitt—excuse me, hand. I winced as my fingers screamed their protest I let it drop knowing it'd never work and tried to shake it off again, then tried to catch it under my left armpit. Yeah, don't bother trying to help me or anything, guys! Just watch me, that's exactly what I need. I managed to remove that napkin and then dropped the soggy pill on the bed. Well, shit. I rustled around under the covers and managed to grab a chest hair and a sheet tag before getting the pill in between two fingers. I lifted my eyes to Chris, who was carefully watching every move I made, and our gazes locked. He had bit his lips together, trying hard to not laugh at me. I was not nearly as good at it as he was and burst out laughing, spraying my mouthful of water everywhere, all over the bed, partially on Chris, who then lost his own battle with it. He collapsed on the foot of the bed, cackling like an old hen, then Cerise decided to laugh at the two of us. Sylvia slipped a little in the water I'd gotten on the floor and collapsed on top of Chris, now laughing hysterically. Sylvia patted at him fondly before Dad finally pulled her off of hm.
"Did you ever get the pill down, Adam?" he asked me.
"Nooo!" I howled, picking it up off my chest, now partially dissolved in a little bit of spit and a lot of water. "This is disgusting!"
"Ewww," Tris agreed, squinting at it.
"It's Chris' fault," I added, accepting a towel Jackie had handed me, trying to mop myself up.
"Mine?" Chris laughed, still at the foot of the bed.
I kicked my feet to make him move. "Yes, yours, you made me laugh." I couldn't stop laughing.
"What'd I do?" he asked, wiping at his eyes and damp face.
"Made me laugh!" I reminded him, accepting a second pill Jackie got for me. This time, she held the cup for me and I managed to actually swallow the dang pill.
"Ya done imitating a fountain yet?" Ericha teased me.
I shrugged. "Maybe?"
"OK." Jackie patted my shoulder. "We are going to be at the nurse's station. If you need anything, nurse call button is here...." She picked up a remote and placed it next to my good hand. "TV remote is here..." She patted the side table. "I will get you a dry blanket and a dry gown. Sylvia, stop salivating over Chris and Adam. Mr. and Mrs. Rupp, sister Rupp, wife and daughter Rupp, Chris Rupp, you can stay until 8:30, then visiting hours are over."
I grabbed at Chris. "Please. I need our stuff. I have to get some of these ideas down."
He checked his watch. "It's 7:00. By the time I get there, get your stuff, and get back, visiting hours will be almost over."
"Then get a notepad," I begged, looking at Jackie and Sylvia. "Please. I need a notepad."
"What for?" Jackie asked quizzically.
"To write," I said pleadingly, still needing to write like I needed to breathe. "We've got a New Year's Eve gig in LA, another collab with Pentatonix, and I have so many ideas. I need to get them down before I lose them! I wanna create. I need to, you don't understand!"
Mom reached out and patted my foot. "You have plenty of time."
"Music?" Sylvia asked hopefully. "You want to write Home Free music?"
"Yesss," I moaned, rolling my head back and forth on my pillow, brain still cranking, rolling through songs we could sing together.
"Just like, paper paper?" she asked. "That's all I got. I don't have music paper."
"Paper paper is fine," Chris assured her. "Most of the music is already composed; I think he's just wanting to piece together already composed music into a show and a set list."
"More or less," I agreed. Although a whole new song would be nice. It'd been a while since we'd had an original.
"Paper paper it is!" Sylvia promised, hopping lightly on her feet. "Always willing to help for new music!"
"If you're actually going to work, we'll let you two be," Mom said, standing up.
"Don't you leave me!" Chris warned them. "I don't have a car here. I rode in the ambulance with Adam."
"I got my car," Rob offered. "You can always ride with me."
Dad paused. "That OK with you, Chris?"
"That's fine," he said, reassured he wouldn't be stuck in the hospital with me all night.
"Don't work too hard," Tris told me, patting my foot.
"Feel better, baby," Mom said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. "Love you, Adam."
"You too," I murmured as Dad gave me a silent but careful hug.
Ericha dangled a cranky Cerise over me. "Tell Daddy bye-bye!"
"Wah-wahhh!" was all I could get out of her.
Ericha shrugged. "Love you."
"Love you too," I said, reaching my good hand for her. She handed Cerise to Dad and patted it back into place.
"One hand's a pin cushion and the other's buried in dressings," she grumbled, leaning over and bypassing my hands in favor of a quick kiss on the lips. "Feel better."
"I will," I promised, kissing her again.
Her face still inches from mine, she whispered, "God. Don't ever scare me like that again, OK?"
"I'll try not to," I whispered, very aware of half my family and friends around us. "I'm so sorry, everyone. I never meant to do any of this."
"Oh, sweetheart, we know you didn't," Mom cried, running back to me and squeezing my arm. "We know."
"Don't blame yourself," Tris added.
"Accident, Adam, it was an accident," Dad assured me. "Please don't worry about anything but healing your hand."
"I love you more than anything in the world," Ericha told me, a tear dropping from her eye onto my cheek. "If anything were to happen to you..."
"Hey," I said softly, lifting my marginally better left hand to her face, gently sweeping her tears away. "I'm all right. I'm right here. I'm going to be OK. Might not be able to take out the trash or fix that leaky faucet for a while, but baby, I'm here." I pulled her face down to mine and kissed her again, deeply, knowing how precious, how fragile, life could be. Chris had nearly been taken from me once, and to this day, I'm still haunted by it all, the year and a half I'd never be able to erase from my memories. Pentatonix had nearly lost Avi today. I could have, all too easily... Lord. If I'd held onto the bulb much longer, if Dad hadn't thrown water on me, if Chris hadn't pulled me out of the house... I could have actually... died. Of burns, of smoke inhalation. Tris coughed pointedly before Chris spoke up.
"Ah, we all know Adam did all this just to get out of household chores."
The others cracked up and Ericha finally pulled away from me. I patted her cheek. "Yep, Chris is absolutely right. I lit myself on fire to get out of doing the dishes."
"If you feel that strongly about about 'em...," she giggled, smacking at me playfully. I laughed right back. God, I love that woman. I kissed her lips one last time as Cerise decided to let loose with an ear-splitting shriek of tiredness and frustration.
"OK, OK, OK," Ericha grunted, hoisting her up again. "See you tomorrow."
"Love you!" I called after all five of them as they squeezed past Sylvia with a spiral-bound notebook.
"Love you too, Adam!" came my answer.
Sylvia presented the notebook to Chris with a smile. "Here you go."
"Thank you," we both said at once.
Rob swung the bedside table around to the chairs and he and Chris settled down in them, Sylvia still lingering at the door, seemingly hoping to eavesdrop. Rob, Chris, and I glanced at each other, then to her.
"Yes?" I finally asked as Rob ventured forth with a, "Thank you."
"Need anything else?" she asked brightly.
"Nope, think I'm good, thanks!" I told her, grinning and wishing she'd go on and let us work in private.
"You sure?" she asked, sounding disappointed.
"Yes," all three of us said in unison.
"Bye-bye now," Chris said politely, flipping the notebook open.
Sylvia sighed. "OK then. Bye." She finally stepped out, mostly closing the door behind her, leaving a crack open for air circulation.
"OK then." Rob rolled his eyes.
"Nice enough, but..." I let my sentence drop as Chris pulled the pen out of the binding.
"Overeager," Chris concluded. He spun the pen around in his fingers. "OK, Adam, what's on your mind that you can't keep in one moment longer?"
I nodded at Rob. "Get Pentatonix on the phone. Kevin. Please."
Rob pulled his phone out, typed a quick text, then dialed Kevin.
"Hello? Rob?" he answered on the second ring.
Rob leaned forward, placing the phone on the table. "Hey, Kevin, it's me, also got Adam here—he's awake and feeling OK and has music coming out of his ears. Would you be willing to start some plans for New Year's Eve with us?"
"Sure," he said easily. "Speaker phone?"
"Yep," I confirmed, finally letting a smile spread across my face. "I got Chris playing scribe, since I got one hand out of commission, and one had full of IVs."
"Ouch," Kevin sympathized. "Sorry 'bout that. Glad you're feeling good enough to dive into this."
"Yeah, he came out of anesthesia dying to get to writing music," Chris laughed, doodling on the top of the first page. "Wouldn't be still until we started. Still moving around like a wiggle worm."
Kevin laughed. "That's funny. I'm sorry, I didn't catch who you were?"
"I'm Chris," he said as Rob and I both piped with, "Chris, former founding member of Home Free," and "my brother, Chris," respectively.
"That's Chris, a former Home Free member and Adam's brother?" he double checked.
"Yep," Chris confirmed, drawing some drips the the ice cream cone he'd just doodled out.
"Founding member," Rob added importantly.
"Cool," Kevin said. "So... what're you thinking there, Adam?"
I leaned forward. "Several things. Chris, focus. I was thinking it'd be cool if we switched things up. Now that we're not boxed in by Christmas songs—Chris!"
"What?" he asked, having advanced to sprinkles on the ice cream. "I'm listening."
Rob peered over his shoulder. "Ooo, ice cream. I could go for ice cream."
I grabbed the folder orienting me to the hospital and smacked awkwardly at both of them with my left hand. "Focus! I didn't need you in here to draw me pictures!"
Kevin was cackling over the phone, clearly amused by by his inattentiveness.
"I was thinking Home Free could sing a Pentatonix song and Pentatonix could sing a Home Free song," I continued loudly, trying to regain already wandering attention. I'd suck as a teacher; can't even command attention for two minutes. Nobody said a word about my idea—neither a 'yeah, let's try it' or a 'no, that's a dumb move'. Getting aggravated, I put my better hand on my hip. "Am I talking to myself here? Anybody? Thoughts, ideas?"
"Huh? What?" Rob asked, looking up from Chris' doodles. I must have shot him an even dirtier look than I thought because he immediately backed down. "Sorry, sorry. I was just kidding around."
"I was just thinking about it," Kevin spoke up. "It's different. I kind of like it."
"Thank you, Kevin," I said appreciatively, glad someone was taking me seriously.
"Keep 'em guessing," Rob said, grinning at me. I took that to be an agreement from him.
Eyeing Chris drawing a cherry on top, I told Rob, "Rob, you write. Chris is being fired as a scribe."
"Hey," he complained, finally proving his worth and jotting down a note.
"Legibly," I warned preemptively.
"It is legible." He shook the notebook in my face. "See?"
I batted it away, briefly glancing at it for legibility. Notes are useless if you can't read them. 'HF- PTX song. PTX- HF song', he'd written, in moderately neat cursive. I'd take what I could get.
"We do a lot of country," I told Kevin. "How do you all feel about country? I know you do mainly pop."
"We've done some country," he said diplomatically. "Earlier this year, we did a cut of Dolly Parton's Jolene."
"Cool," I said, grinning. "So you all wouldn't mind doing a little bit?"
"I think we could be talked into doing a little bit," Kevin agreed. "What kind of country are we talking about?"
"Newer country, mainly. Current radio. We do have older stuff though." Rob picked up a hand and started counting off on fingers. "Little bit of Dolly, little bit of Garth, Johnny Cash, Oak Ridge Boys, some originals. Eagles, little bit of pop, John Michael Montgomery—"
"Whoa, slow down," Kevin requested. "Writing as fast as I can here."
"Maybe it'd be easier if we just have them go and let them into our archives, so they can actually see what we have," Chris suggested somewhat helpfully. "A lot of it—the newer stuff—is still pen and paper, but a good portion of it is also digitalized. We got both hard copies and digitalized."
"That would be great," Kevin said. "I'm going to stop writing—ehh, can't even read what I have written."
I snorted. "What we got digitized is from, ahh.... 2000 until early 2016. Focus on the stuff 2015 forward, look through the songs and let us know what you think you might want to do."
"Do write this down. Legibly," Chris said. "Soundcloud dot com backslash homefree—"
"No spaces, in lower case," I added.
"Backslash hf—"
"Lower case, all lower case," I said.
"Soundcloud dot com backslash homefree backslash hf," Kevin repeated slowly. "Got it so far."
"Text it," Rob instructed, rolling his eyes.
"dot 2000 dot rupp—"
"Lower case R in Rupp," I pointed out.
"Backslash archive," Chris finished. "Got that?"
"Dot 2000 dot rupp backslash archive," Kevin read back to us. "I got it. Password?"
"Text it!" Rob ordered irritably.
"Dreams@5. Capital D as in David, little R as in Rob, E as in elephant, A as in apple, M as in milk, S as in super. At sign. Digit 5," Chris spelled out.
"Got it," Kevin said confidently.
"2016 material, especially after July, won't be out there yet—Chris, don't give me that look," I muttered as heave me a disapproving sidelong look.
"Google us and Youtube us," Rob advised, standing up and helping himself to a cup of water from the sink. He shouted over the running water and distance. "Won't give you the actual sheet music, but it'll at least give you and idea of what's available. If you like and want to use it, Adam can get off his lazy butt and do some massive uploading."
"Hey, I'm doing the best I can, OK?" I protested, lifting and displaying my temporarily out-of-order hands.
"Why do I have a sneaky feeling that's going to end up being Chris doing a massive uploading for Adam?" Chris grumbled good-naturedly, Rob snorting at that.
"Holy moly!" Kevin exclaimed, making Chris' and my heads whip around to the phone and Rob spill his water in surprise.
"Kevin?" I asked as Rob cursed softly and starting ripping paper towels out of the dispenser to clean things up.
"You've got a ton out here!" Kevin breathed. "Holy moly. So much!"
"Are you in our Soundcloud?" I asked.
"Yeah," he answered. "Oh, this looks cool." I heard him clicking around.
"Yes, we have sixteen years' worth of songs," Chris said, returning to his ice cream drawing.
"That's why I said to focus on 2015-2016," I said, rolling my eyes at Chris, who come to ignore me.
"I just pulled up all songs," Kevin explained, still clicking around. "OK, going into the 2016 folder."
"Where can we find you guys' music?" I asked, eager to give Chris something to write.
"Text it," Rob said from the floor, sounding like a broken record.
"Soundcloud dot com backslash p—that's a little P—pentatonix," he began.
I jabbed at Chris. "You getting this?"
"Soundcloud dot com backslash pentatonix," Chris read back, showing me. "With a little P."
"Backslash ptx dot 2011," Kevin continued. "Now I'm going to spell."
"Just text it, for the love of God!" Rob angrily tossed paper towels into the trash can.
"O-L-U. Omega, love, under. K-A-P. Kangaroo, apple, pizza. H-O-Y. House, over, yesterday. G-R-A. Grape, red, apple. M-A-L. Morning, apple, love."
"Got it!" Chris looked proud of himself, displaying the website he'd written down.
"Password?" I asked, studying his writing. Yep, looked accurate.
"Mountain. Capital M," Kevin said. "Try it. See if you can get in."
Chris and Rob both grabbed their phones and started navigating through. I let a lip pout out. I didn't have mine. I didn't even know where mine was.
"Umm," Rob said, eyeing me. "Well."
Chris paused, fingers flying over his keys. "Last I saw it was in Mom's and Dad's living room."
"Oh. Well, will you have one of them bring it tome tomorrow?"
Rob put his phone down and moved over to my bed, sitting lightly beside me. "Um, Adam... I have bad news for you. I'm pretty sure your phone is destroyed again, especially if it was in your parents' living room."
"Shit," I cursed angrily, slapping my left hand down on the mattress.
"Your parents' yard is a solid sheet of ice. So is their porch. The living room is sopping wet," he reported. "Chance, Austin, and I couldn't even make your phon ring or register a call. Pretty sure it's toast."
"Shit," I cursed again. "AppleCare is going to hate me. Wonder how any phones they'll repair and replace before I gotta buy a whole new one."
"I think one," Chris said softly, watching me closely.
I closed my eyes. Shiiit. A whole new phone. Ugh. And Mom and Dad's living room was sopping wet? My fault.... my fault.... it's all my fault. I knocked over the damn lamp. Stupid klutzy me. "The living room?"
Chris reached out and patted my shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. You heard Mom and Dad. It was an accident. And the most important thing is that we all survived. Little worse for wear..." He carefully picked up my bandaged hand. "But survived."
"Absolutely," Rob agreed, rubbing my elbow as he played on his phone. "Yes, Kevin, we're in."
"Good, good," he said. "Play around on there, see what you like and let me know. Feel free to toy with arrangements; I'm sure we will too."
Chris peered over me at it. "Christmas stuff, I, II, III, Deluxe, couple of singles.... what's FP?"
"What do you want us to focus on?" I asked glumly, aiming for the IV but hitting theFP my mistake. "The latest? IV?"
"No, IV's our work in progress," Kevin told us. "The Deluxe is the most recent. What did you say the other was?"
"FP," Rob said, squinting at it. "Which Adam somehow opened."
"FP?" Kevin sounded as confused as we were, which was pretty bad, considering this was his band's material.
"FP," Chris confirmed. "F like Fred, P like Peter."
"FP," Kevin mused. "Um, I'm not sure what that is."
"Looks like it's just he beginning of something," Rob said, scrolling the page down. "It says 'Take me far away from here.... while you watch and listen and learn, safe, far away'."
"I...," Kevin said slowly. "I have no idea. Somebody else must be playing on it and writing something. I hope they tell me where this is going."
"Sounds poetic," I commented as Chris dropped his head to my ear.
"Is everybody happy in Pentatonix?" he hissed.
I shrugged. "As far as I know."
"So you said Deluxe?" Rob navigated away from the haunting lyrics.
"Yep, Deluxe," he confirmed. "Should have 16 songs in there—y'all can play with those. Should also have Can't Sleep Love and... hmm."
"Hmm?" I asked, still a bit preoccupied with the 'take me far from here' lyrics. They had all seemed perfectly happy together. Clearly, they were all the best of friends. It didn't seem like anyone particularly wanted out. Still, I could definitely see where Chris was coming from.
" 'I want can't sleep, can't breathe without you love'," Kevin read off as my eyes fell down on the list and lit on something called Can't Sleep Love.
"Hunter Hayes Medley," Rob identified immediately.
"Medley!" I shouted excitedly. "I want a medley! A Pentatonix-Home Free medley!" Put those two right together—I Want Crazy, segue right after that line to this, Rob, open it, open it!"
" 'Gimme that can't sleep love, gimme that can't sleep love, I want that can't sleep love, gimme that can't sleep'," Rob sang along.
"Yes!" I said excitedly, slapping a jubilant left hand up and down. "Perfect! Common theme! Chris, are you writing this down?"
Chris grabbed the notebook and started writing like mad. "Hunter Hayes, cut over after the chorus and bridge to Can't Sleep Love, it's chorus and bridge, perfect, this is perfect, we can just copy and paste right over when we get to our stuff at home!"
" 'And I know I can't ever tell you enough, that all I need in this life is your crazy love'," Rob started singing, a giant grin on his face, only to have me join in on the verse. " 'or if I never get to see the Northern Lights or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night, oh, if all I've got is your hand in mine, baby, I could die, a happy man'."
"Chris, are you writing this down?" I howled excitedly.
"Fast as I can!" Chris promised, pen now flying across the notepad.
"Oh!" Kevin yelped from his end before dissolving into song himself. " 'We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have travelled land and sea, but as long as you are with me, there is no place I would rather be. I would wait forever, exulted in the scene, as long as I am with you, my heart continues to beat'." He took a breath. "First verse Rather Be. Is Chris still writing this down?"
"I got it, I got it!" he shouted, still writing like crazy.
" 'My heart's on fi-ire, Elvira!'," I sang out, jamming to my own tune before even Chris jumped in with some good oom-papa-mow-mow's.
"Quit singing it and write it!" Rob and I ordered him.
" 'Oom-papa-oom-papa-mow-mow'," Chris oom-papa'ed as he wrote.
" 'Heigh-ho, Silver, awayyy!'," Rob contributed.
The door creaked open as we heard a whole different voice sing in with us over Kevin's phone. " 'I don't know what you've been told but music makes you lose control! Sing, sing—'"
"Um, excuse me?" Jackie asked us apologetically, Sylvia and three other nurses poking curious heads in. "Visiting hours are kind of over. We'd be willing to—"
" '—sing, sing, sing it out as hard as you can! Make 'em hear you from LA to Japan! Don't let 'em bring you down—' "
"—bend the rules for you, if you'd keep it down just a little in here, please?" Sylvia bartered.
" '—this is how we do it now—," Scott was still singing away on Kevin's end.
Rob picked his phone up and held it to his mouth. "Hold on, Scott. Chris, you got that down, chorus of something called Sing, Kevin said." He glanced up at the nurses. "I'm so sorry."
"We got carried away," I admitted sheepishly. "Sorry."
"I need to check your IVs anyway," Sylvia said, squeezing past two nurses. "Let me in. I'm his nurse." She came in and started checking on my IVs, turning one off and replacing a bag.
I couldn't hold it in any longer; I'd been wriggling around trying to keep quiet but I just couldn't. I did try to not sing too loudly though. " 'This is how we roll, we hanging round, singing out everything on the radio, we light it up with our hands up, this is how we roll, this is how we do, we're burning down the night shooting bullets at the moon, baby, this is how we roll'."
Sylvia was staring down at me.
"It was quiet!" I protested. "I could have sung it a lot louder if I wanted to, believe me!"
"I love your voice," she told me, still holding the second bag of saline in her hand. "You have got to sing more. We never get to hear you sing."
" 'Cuz I'm really the only one that can do the beatboxing," I pointed out as Rob flapped at Chris.
"Are you getting this?"
" 'How we roll'," Chris was saying as he wrote. " ' 'Cuz I'm really the only one that can do the beat' —wait."
"We're not singing that!" I laughed hysterically.
Chris threw his hands up, laughing. "Oh my God, I'm on auto here!"
"Can—can I make a suggestion?" Mitch's voice asked from seemingly a long way away. Wonder how the two of them got on the call.
"Go for it!" Chris encouraged. "Keep 'em flying!"
"Going from that rolling song Adam was just singing," Mitch prefaced before rolling into a verse. " 'Here we go back, this is the moment, tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over, so we put our hands up, like the ceiling can't hold us, like the ceiling can't hold us'."
"Can't Hold Us chorus!" Kevin identified excitedly, Mitch, Scott and now Kirstie in a chorus of 'like the ceiling can't hold us'-es. "Write it, Chris!"
"Got it!" Chris crowed as Rob bounced up and down in his seat, seemingly unable to hold himself.
" 'Can't stop the can't stop the, can't stop the, can't stop the feeling!' "
" 'Nothing I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance, can't stop the feeling!, feeling good, good, creeping up on you, just dance, can't stop the feeling!, all those things I shouldn't do, but you dance, dance, dance, can't stop the feeling! and ain't nobody leaving soon, so keep dancing!' " I was practically dancing in my my seat.
Sylvia's hand flew down to me, trying to keep my IV hand still and not jostle the IV. She was grinning and watching all of us, nearly as excited as we were, actually making the IV bag change last a disproportionately long time, eyes more on us than anything else. I knew she was dying to hear what we were coming up with.
Scott did not disappoint. " 'Everyone around me is just kissing on somebody, but I'm just dancing by myself around the lobby, I'm having a good time, oh, oh. And I've had two too many but I'm just doing this to pass the time.' "
Kirstie chimed in with a second verse as Kevin came in with, "Misbehavin', verse one and chorus."
" 'Cuz I'm yours, you're mine, but I ain't misbehavin', no, I ain't misbehavin' tonight'," all three of them sang out.
"Yeah, I called Scott on the landline here," Kevin laughed. "Knew they'd have good ideas."
"I love Misbehavin'!" Sylvia squealed, now dancing around the room with my IV bag.
"Will you hang that and let us work in a little privacy?" I demanded, starting to cross my arms but only wincing in pain. Pain was tolerable but definitely still present, and it reminded me of every time I moved my right hand.
"Who's that?" Kirstie asked suspiciously.
"Nurse came in to put more IV medicine in Adam but is dancing around the room instead." Rob pushed his glasses up his nose and eyed her. "Will you please hang that up and step out?"
She sighed, finally starting to hook the bag in place. "If I'm quiet as a little mouse, and keep my mouth shut about what I hear, can I please listen in? Please? I won't dance anymore."
"Don't you have other patients?" Chris remarked, flexing his fingers. "Writer's cramp."
"We would prefer it if you did not, ma'am," Kevin refused politely.
Sylvia pouted, finishing with the bag. She poked a few buttons on the machine.
"Sorry, but yeah. I agree with Kevin," Rob said, nodding. "Home Free-Pentatonix business."
"All right, OK," she said, glancing at me. "Let me know if you need anything."
"OK," I promised, watching as she stepped out, closing the door to just a crack behind her.
"Sorry about that, guys, but it did give me a chance to catch up here," Chris apologized, still wiggling his index finger. "And give my hand a break."
"Would you sing that chorus for us again?" Rob requested. "So we can see what we can come up with here? Nurse is gone."
" 'Cuz I'm yours, you're mine, but I ain't misbehavin', no, I ain't misbehavin' tonight'," Scott sang jazzily, snapping his fingers.
Rob pursed his lips to think about where it lead him. Chris and I had an idea though—the same idea. Guess great minds really do think alike!
Chris was a beat or two ahead of me as he, then I, went, " 'Oh no, honey, I'm good, I could have another but I probably should not, I've got somebody at home and if I stay, I might not leave alone, I've got to bid you adieu, to another I will stay true!' "
" 'stay true!' " I finished, laughing as Rob nodded wildly and Chris scribbled frantically.
"Who was that?" Kirstie asked suspiciously. "Singing?"
"Me, Kirstie. Adam." I laughed again. "I know, haven't heard me sing much, have you?"
"Not much," Scott admitted.
"I have," Mitch told him. "He did a part on Colder Weather that I worked on them with."
"But there were two people singing," Kirstie insisted. "Two baritones. Who was the second? Who's in there with you?"
"Sorry, Kirstie, that was me. Chris Rupp," Chris assured her. "I should've introduced myself."
"I told you Adam's brother was on the line, Kirst," Kevin reminded her gently.
"Didn't register in my head," she muttered as Scott spoke up with, "Um, why is his brother on the line?"
" 'Cuz I can't write!" I snapped. "My right hand is under six feet of gauze!"
"Why can't Rob write?" Kirstie wanted to know. "Sorry, Chris, nothing against you, but this is Home Free-Pentatonix business."
"One, 'cuz my handwriting sucks," Rob began. "Two, Chris has perfect right to be here; he's family. And three—"
"My handwriting is not the greatest in the world either," Chris said diplomatically, running a finger down his notes. "I can read it though."
"And three," I started loudly. "The band is ultimately his brainchild. He dreamed it up. He and I started the band sixteen years ago. Chris was in the band for fifteen years. So deal with it."
"Took the words out of my mouth there." Rob nodded at me.
"OK, OK, OK, chill. Legit question," Scott muttered.
Chris shoved the notebook in Rob's face, apparently now preoccupied with his own handwriting. "Can you read this? Whazzit say?"
Rob squinted at it. "Can I Milk U?"
I lost it at that point, bending over onto my legs and laughing so hard that tears pooled in my eyes.
"Oh my God!" Chris exclaimed before dropping the notebook in his own fit of laughter.
"What he say? What he say? What he say?" Kevin, Mitch, and Kirstie asked, Scott cackling on their end.
Rob pushed his glasses up and rubbed his nose, also laughing. "You don't want to know."
"He said—he said—bahaha!" Scott could barely talk.
"My—my—my," Chris stutters before taking a breath and letting it out slowly to get it together. It took three rounds, but he got it. "My writing's not much better. Rob can't read what I wrote."
"It looked like—hahaha!" Rob laughed. "Do you have a song called Can I—bahaha! Can I—haha! Oh my God!"
"What?" Mitch ventured as Kevin succumbed to a giggle fit himself.
Chris, the calmest of the three of us, bit a lip as he tried to keep his wits about him. "Rob was trying to ask if you have a song called called—hahahaha!" He fanned at himself frantically. "Can I Milk U?"
I was a lost cause, folded in half on the bed, hair flying everywhere, beyond talking, barely able to catch my breath.
"What?" Kirstie asked incredulously.
"Can I Milk U!" Mitch squawked before disappearing into giggles.
"No," Kevin got out. "That and FP are new on me."
"FP?" Scott let out a weird sound as he caught his own breath.
"Something they found on our Soundcloud," Kevin explained. "Either of you writing something new?"
"No," Scott said, the others still laughing. "And that's two negatives from Mitch and Kirstie here."
"Hmm," Kevin mumbled thoughtfully. "Must be Avi. I'll talk to him later."
I lifted my head. Avi had started that, had penned those words. I remembered how he'd looked when he was told he'd have to be back in LA earlier than expected. He'd been so disappointed. More than the others. And Tim had mentioned, just in passing, how stressed Avi was sounding. The lyrics he'd written.... was he thinking about leaving? The thought sobered me.
"Chris, when—what songs was this Can I Milk U between? Let's figure out what it actually is," I said, pouring some water from my pitcher into a cup to drink.
"Can I Milk U, let's see..." Chris thumbed through his pages, snickering. "Between This Is How We Roll and Can't Stop The Feeling."
"Uhhh....," Kevin drawled out.
"Can't Hold Us," Mitch enunciated. "Not Can I Milk U. No milk in there."
"Can't Hold Us," Chris repeated, making the correction.
"OK. And where were we?" I tried to refocus us, then eyed Rob, still alternatingly quiet and laughing in bursts. "Rob. Let's move on, OK?"
"I'm trying, bud, I am," he told me, shaking his head.
Chris checked his notes. "Honey, I'm Good, the chorus."
"Do you need us to sing it again?" I asked Pentatonix, who were coming off their high, oblivious to Avi's lyrics.
"We know that one really well," Kirstie assured us. "Hmm. Boys?"
I heard Scott hum the tune, pause, then start in with, " 'I need your love, I need your time, when everything is wrong, you make it right, I feel so high, I come alive, I need to be free with you tonight, I need your love'." He coughed. "Avi's part."
"Song is aptly called I Need Your Love," Kevin added.
"I Need Your Love, Avi's part." Chris jotted it down.
Rob and I were silent for a moment, mentally flipping through repertoire.
I perked up and did my best to pull some bass out of my lower register. " 'Lock the doors and turn the lights down low, put on some music that's soft and slow, baby we ain't got no place to go, I hope you understand, I've been thinking 'bout this all night long, never felt a feeling quite this strong, I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man'."
Rob stared at me. "Tim, you are not."
" 'Cuz I'm no bass," I grumbled, picking at a spot on the sheet. "Let's hear you try it in your tenor voice, why don't we?"
"Well, it'll be Tim singing this part," Chris pointed out, writing it down. "Pentatonix?"
Mitch, Scott, and Kirstie pulled a sexy-sounding song out of their hat. " 'So will you dance with me or do I have to show you how to love instead? So let me show you how to love, let me show you how to love, let me show you how to love, let me show you how to love, let me show you how to love'."
"Three guesses what that's called," Kevin remarked.
"Show You How To Love?" I guessed, grinning.
"Ya got it!" he said as Rob burst out good and strong with, " 'Staying the whole night through, feels so good to be with you!' "
Chris smirked at us and sang his own old solo. " 'You get a line and I'll get a pole, we'll go fishing in the crawfish hole, five card poker on Saturday night, church on Sunday morning.' "
" 'Down in the boondocks'." Oh, there's that note I was looking for earlier. " 'Say a little prayer for me!' "
" 'Heaaarrrt and souuul, in the booooondocks!' " we finished together.
The door flung open. "Is it quieter in the boondocks?" Jackie demanded.
"Oops," Chris muttered, pen flying in the notepad.
Mitch was already answering us. " 'I've never seen a diamond in the flesh, I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies, and I'm not proud of my address, in the torn-up town, no post code envy'."
"Sorry," Rob apologized, putting two fingers to his mouth.
"We got carried away," I said apologetically, dropping my gaze to the bed.
"I don't mind you singing, but please do it a little quieter," she said pointedly.
"Home Free got in trou-ouble!" Mitch teased.
"Yes ma'am," Chris said.
Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Jackie nodded curtly and stepped back out, closing the door all the way behind her.
"So I got Royals from Pentatonix," Chris summarized quietly, then softly sang the verse himself. "Home Free?"
" 'Cuz I got friends in low places'," I sang in a low tone. " 'Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away, and I'll be OK. I'm not big on social graces, think I'll slip on down to the oasis, oh, I got friends in low places'."
" 'Got no weight on my shoulders, I should be wiser and realize, I've got—,' " Mitch started before Scott took over with, " 'One less problem without ya, I got one less problem without ya, I got one one less problem without ya, I got one less problem without ya, I got one less, one less problem without ya, I got one less problem without ya, I got one less problem without ya, I got one less, one less problem'."
"That would be the bridge and chorus of Problem," Kevin told us.
I chewed on a lip and sipped on my water, trying to think. Rob was lost in thought too. Chris finished his note and tapped his pen on his chin. "Lemme see something." He pulled his phone out and flipped through our music. "Here it is. 'I'm doing OK without you, I learned to live without you while you were away. You thought you could have your fun and call me up when you were done. I bet you never guessed you'd hear me sayyy'..." He coughed and squinted at the music. "Oops. 'Sayyy.' No, no, no. 'Sayyy'." He shook his head, clearly not quite getting the notes right. "Damn, Tim, dude gets high here."
Rob peered over his shoulder and sang the line for him. " 'I bet you never guessed you'd hear me sayyy...' "
" 'You're so yesterday'," Chris took back over. " 'A shortened breath was all I hard, guess she was at a loss for words, I must admit it felt good, I may have said more than I should, but she understood...' " He looked up and grinned. "I'm more low than high today."
"I like that!" Scott laughed. "Snazzy and sassy!"
"I got one," Kirstie said, then did one herself. " 'Hush, don't speak, when you spit your venom, keep it shut, I hate it when you hiss and preach about your new Messiah, 'cuz your theories catch fire' "
Mitch joined in and sang with her. " 'I can't find your silver lining. I don't mean to judge, but when you read your speech, it's tiring'."
He dropped off and she kept singing by herself. " 'Covering my ears like a kid, when your words mean nothing, I go la la la! I'm turning up the volume when you speak, if my heart can't stop it, I find a way to block it, I go la la la!' "
"La La Latch," Kevin summarized. "First verse, bridge, chorus."
Rob jumped to his feet. " 'I messed up tonight—', I mean." He lowered the volume. " 'I messed up tonight, I lost another fight, I still mess up but I'll just start again. I keep falling down, I keep on hitting the ground, I always get up now to see what's next'." He took a big drink of his water before smiling sweetly at us before going into his own part. " 'Birds don't just fly, they fall down and get up, nobody learns without getting it wrong'."
" 'I won't give up, I won't give in'," I chimed in. " 'Till I reach the end and then I'll start again. Though I want to leave, I wanna try everything, I wanna try even though I could fail'."
"I love that movie!" Kirstie squealed. "Love love love!"
"What's it from?" Kevin asked us.
"Zootopia," Kirstie, Scott, Rob, Chris, and I answered at once.
"Cute little movie about a bunny rabbit that wants to be a police officer," I explained to him. "Check it out. It's cute. And very relevant nowadays in today's society."
"Definitely. Good point, Adam," Scott agreed. "I mean, being a minority—"
"Let's don't open that can of worms," Chris diverted. "Kevin, it's a cute movie, go watch it. Great date movie if you got a girl. Anyway—"
"A new fiancee!" he said excitedly.
"Hey, congrats, man!" Chris congratulated him, grinning.
"Thanks!" he said as Mitch requested the song again and Rob and I 'hopped' right into it.
"—it's really not easy, being—," Scott was continuing. Not sure if we should stop and hear him out or continue, Rob and I shrugged at each other. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It did sound like I'd gotten him on his soapbox.
"Sco-ott," Kevin groaned at him. "Rob, Adam, hold on. Scott, let it go."
"Don't," Mitch said tiredly, Scott still blabbering away about minority rights and trying to get Mitch to contribute to his one-sided editorial. Ugh. I decided I was sorry I brought it up. I have nothing against gays or anybody for that matter—hell, as long as they're not trying to kill anyone, I didn't care, just let them do what they want with whoever they want—but this was not the time or place for political rampages.
"I refuse to be drug into this, Scott, you already know where I stand with this. And it really makes me too depressed anymore to think about it," Mitch asserted. "Now shove it. You know you're preaching to the choir here. Home Free, I'm really sorry, one last time on that song? I'm not overly familiar with it."
Rob snorted at Mitch's telling Scott to shove his soapbox. He gestured and the three of us sang on cue. He, Scott, and Kirstie were quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before Kevin offered up with, " 'What we dream, it's all that matters, we're on our way united, turn the crowed up now, we'll never back down, shoot down a skyline, watch it in primetime, turn up the love now, listen up now, turn up the love'."
Kirstie, Scott, and Mitch joined in jubilantly. " 'Who's gonna save the world tonight? Who's gonna bring you back to life? We're going to make it, you and I, we're going to save thew world tonight! Don't you worry, don't you worry child, heaven's got a plan for you. Don't you worry, don't you worry child, who's gonna save the world tonight? Who's gonna bring you back to life?' "
I was bouncing in excitement. "Yes! Yes! That's the perfect ending, I love it!"
"Whooo!" Rob agreed, he and Chris standing up, dancing and giving each other high fives. I didn't recall anything about being told to not get out of bed, so I swung my legs over the side of the bed to get up and celebrate a successful rough draft of an awesome medley. I started to stand up quickly—perhaps too quickly. My head started spinning as soon as my feet hit the floor. Whoaaa. I closed my eyes and blinked slowly, feeling majorly dizzy, my hands flying out for balance.
"Adam, lay back down," Rob ordered as Chris vaulted over the bed.
"Shit," I muttered, starting to fall forward, feeling cold and clammy. I felt myself pitch forward, the IV ripping out of my hand. I may have cried out as it pulled out, tearing at my skin; I wasn't entirely sure of what I was doing.
I don't think I was out for more than a few seconds, because the next thing I was aware of was that my head was in Chris' lap, the IV was screaming about having been disconnected, and Rob was pressing frantically at the nurse call button and shouting into it. "Nurse! Nurse! We need help! Adam tried to get out of bed and passed out! Nurse!"
I lifted a slightly woozy head. "I'm OK."
Chris pushed it right back down. "Like hell you are. You're bleeding like crazy, your other hand is coming unravelled, and you just passed out getting out of bed."
"I'm conscious," I insisted, fighting for control over my head. I kept trying to lift it but he was just pushing it back down before leaving his hand securely on the side of my head to keep it in place.
"You just lay there, OK?" he told me, the door flying open. Both Sylvia and Jackie ran in and to my side, immediately kneeling beside me.
"What happened?" she asked as Sylvia laid a hand on my shoulder, helping me sit up slowly.
"Just tried to get out of bed," I complained. "Think I was getting up too quickly. I got dizzy."
Jackie took my left hand, the one that was now bleeding profusely. Sylvia handed her some towels and she started pressing on it, making me squeal in pain.
"I'm sorry. I know it hurts," she apologized. "I'm trying to stop the bleeding."
"What's going on over there?" Scott yelled over the phone.
Rob yanked it off the table. "Adam tried to get up, passed out briefly, tore the IV out of his hand. He's bleeding everywhere but we got the nurses in here tending to him."
"Are you in pain? Other than my pressing on your hand here? Jackie asked me while Sylvia pressed a couple of buttons on the IV.
"Right hand, and now, left hand." I grimaced. I was rapidly losing limb functionality here. Soon I'd end up helpless—if I wasn't there already.
Sylvia quickly wrapped the loose gauze back around my right hand, securing it with a butterfly clasp. "There. Got that fixed at least. Chris, are you bleeding too?"
Chris glanced down at himself, dabbing at his arm, sleeve, and pant leg. "No, think it's just his blood."
"I bled on you, Chris, I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling bad I'd ruined his clothes.
"Don't worry about it, Adam," he told me, standing and going to the sink to see about washing off.
Rob hung up the phone. "Kevin, Kirstie, Scott, and Mitch tell you to get better."
"Thanks, guys!" I called out. "Tell them thanks for everything!"
"I did," Rob assured me, grinning.
Sylvia reached around Chris and grabbed some washcloths, wetting a couple for sitting next to me. "I'm going to clean you up, OK?" I nodded at her. "Jackie, how's the bleeding?"
Jackie paused, letting up a little on my hand to peer at it. "Slowing down."
Yep, I decided I'd officially reached helpless as Sylvia sponged at my left forearm, my face (had I grabbed at it blindly as I passed out?), my leg, and my knee. By the time she finished sponging me off, I'd stopped actively bleeding, and Jackie wrapped a bandage around my left hand. I was slowly turning into a mummy.
"Sylvia, go check the MAR and see if we can take him off the IV," Jackie ordered. "I'd really prefer to not stick that vein again."
"Me too," I said, making her grin.
"OK." Sylvia wrung out the bloody washcloth into the sink, then tossed it in red bin on her way out.
"Now," Jackie began. "Think you can stand up?"
"Think so." She held a hand out to help me up and I slowly stood.
"Nice and slow... good," she complimented me on my standing ability. "How do you feel?"
"OK. A throb in my burned hand, but that's all."
She nodded. "Let's go into the bathroom and I'll get you a clean gown."
I nodded. I could use a bathroom anyway. She shadowed me as I made my way to it. "Call button/ string is right next to the commode. I'm going to get the clean gown and be right back. Sylvia will be back momentarily."
"And we're right here," Rob added, leaning against the wall. "Holler if you need anything."
"Think I'm good from here," I said dryly. I quickly used it, then did my best to gently wash my one available hand. Thank goodness for touchless soap and towel dispensers. Sylvia was just walking in when I stepped back out, feeling no aftereffects from my passing out, and Jackie was right behind her with the gown.
Sylvia turned to Jackie. "He's supposed to finish this bag and one more overnight."
Jackie sighed. "Ugh. OK." She handed me the gown. "Go ahead and put this on. I'll help you tie it in the back. I'll get the IV recalibrated and set with the clean supplies here."
"OK." I stepped back in the bathroom and shrugged out of the bloody gown, slipping the clean one on. The ties were a lost cause, given their being in the back and my limited dexterity. Ah, whatever. I opened the door and started back to bed.
Chris darted across the room and stepped behind me, grabbing my shoulder. "Hold up." He quickly fixed the ties for me.
"Thanks," I told him, easing back in bed. I eyed Jackie's needle warily.
"I know, I'm sorry. I feel bad about it," she apologized, looking sympathetic. I braced myself, making a face. "Small stick. Or maybe a big stick at this point."
"Ow," I said softly as the needle pushed into me.
"Did good," she said, patting my shoulder. "Um, Rob and Chris, is it?"
Both looked up at her as Sylvia tossed the bloody gown in the red bin.
"Yeah," Rob said.
"Adam really needs his rest," Jackie told them gently. "He's been through major trauma and he needs to do a lot of healing. We've let you stay past normal visiting hours, but I'd like you to leave now."
Rob nodded unhappily. "OK, I understand."
Chris leaned over and gave me a gentle hug. "Love you, little brother. See you tomorrow."
"See you," I told him. "Love you too."
"And I love you both," Rob said, also hugging me ever-so-gently. "So glad you're going to be OK."
"Me too," I said. "Love you too, Rob."
They left, leaving me with Sylvia and Jackie, who were wrapping things up with me for the night.
"Need a pain pill?" Sylvia asked me.
I nodded. "Yes, please." I let my head fall back to the pillow.
Jackie touched my arm. "If you need to get up for anything—and believe me, you will, with all those fluids they're pumping in you, you'll need to use the commode plenty—call us, OK?"
"OK," I agreed, trying to roll over a little. "I'm used to sleeping on my side. And with lots of pillows." And my wife. I do my best sleeping at home, with Ericha right next to me, and Cerise down the hall. I sleep like a baby.
Sylvia came back with a pain pill. "Here we go!"
"Sylvia, go get him a few more pillows, please," Jackie requested, lifting my water cup to my mouth and helping me with the pill swallowing.
"Pillows," she repeated, turning back around.
"Comfy?" Jackie asked me after she came back and they packed me up with pillows.
I shrugged. "As I'll ever be, I guess."
"Good night, Adam Rupp," Sylvia said, switching out the overhead light and leaving just a low-wattage side light on.
"Good night, Sylvia, night Jackie," I murmured, yawning. I was actually more tired than I'd realized.
"Good night," Jackie said, patting my shoulder.