thirty-three
As the night sky rests for morning's arrival on our third night in the hospital's ICU, the three of us gather around Dad's bedside. He looks just as lifeless as he had the past three days, though Dr. Monroe greets us back with incredible news. According to Dad's chart, his doctors felt it necessary to reduce his phenobarbital and paralytics which isn't as scary as Dr. Monroe made it sound. In layman's terms, the swelling on dad's brain had completely subsided so there was no reason to keep him asleep. Which led to her decision to stop the medicine that induced his coma. Dr. Monroe was confident in dad's recovery once the drugs were out of his system.
Neither of us speaks a word until Dr. Monroe finishes unhooking the tube from his throat and removing the I.V. of coma inducers. Before leaving us with a friendly smile, she encourages us to celebrate—that news like this doesn't come often for people in dad's situation.
For the first time in the past three days, a breath of relief spouts from Lorelei's lips as she takes a seat in the chair beside dad's bed. I wish I could say her joy was a sham, but it wasn't, mine was and it shouldn't have been. Especially if his doctors, we're certain of his recovery. Physically that is. Who knew what Christian and I would have to deal with once we took him home? What terrified me was the fact that now we'd have to live on constant eggshells around him. And the possibility of him not being who he was before the damage to his brain occurred. Would he be able to walk? Talk? Move?
Christian is on his way out of the room once I've finally decided to give his general direction a gaze following the good news we received about our father, though his interest lies elsewhere. He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps on the screen a few times then holds it to his ear. His voice recedes with hello until he's no longer in earshot.
"So," Lorelei sniffs, wiping away the stream of fresh tears from her cheeks. "Since the doctors are certain of your father's recovery, I think it's best if you and Chris head back to campus to finish out your semester." She grabs ahold of dad's hands and then turns towards me. "You heard Dr. Monroe. It could be days—weeks even before he might wake up. You know he wouldn't want you here. He'd want you there, working your asses off to get your degree."
She isn't wrong. Dad sacrificed more than I ever allowed myself to realize to get Christian and me into college. There were nights dad didn't come home because if he wasn't working for his salary, he was doing whatever other odd jobs he could find to provide for us after mom passed. Only I can't bring myself to accept it. Maybe she just didn't want anything more to do with us until dad gains consciousness. Maybe she'd tell him we were never here when he did finally wake.
"We're not leaving our father in a hospital in this condition. How could you even suggest that?"
Lorelei prepares to part her lips, but it's Chris' voice that steals both of our attention.
"Suggest what?" He says.
"She wants us to abandon dad and go back to campus."
"Don't think of it as abandoning him. I'll be here with him through it all. He's done everything to send you to college. Imagine him waking up to find you both on academic probation for truancy. You know he'd want you to be there."
By the look on Christian's face, that was all the convincing he needed to make that journey back to campus. His interest in Lorelei's suggestion wouldn't have bothered me if there weren't an ulterior motive behind his reasoning for wanting to return to Wisconsin. But it wasn't only that that made agreeing with my brother easier than agreeing with Lorelei.
My brother—who I'd consider emotionally void most of the time—spent every night crying about the state of our dad. It tore him up more than it did me, and that's saying a lot because truth is told, he was the one that carried the burden of my and dad's grief after mom. Mom's death didn't seem to gain a tear, but dad's injuries tore him apart. Regardless of how I felt about him siding with her, I knew Chris would abide by the wishes of our father. Especially after witnessing his emotional distress play out.
Christian only nods though I watch the pigment of his skin flush crimson while his eyes swell with tears. I wondered if he knew, or much less cared about the fact that his attempts at muted cries failed to fool me. But even I knew he was a lot stronger than I was. It takes a strong person to acquiesce to their emotions. Whereas Chris allowed himself to feel the emotions this tragedy provoked, I'd bottled mine up so that I could unleash it once I was certain there would be no one to witness my breakdown.
"Dad would want us to be there and I'm sure you know that without me needing to elaborate. At least that's what I will keep telling myself. If we don't go, I won't make it, Alex. He didn't let us give up when mom passed so what makes you think he'd want us to do the same after hearing from his doctors of his suspected full recovery? If lying to yourself is what it takes for you to keep going, do it, but giving up our future is not an option right now. Life goes on even if people can't continue with us. Losing mom taught us both that."
As much as I wanted that to be a lie, it isn't and I hate myself for sticking around long enough to hear him say everything I knew dad would say because I'd have to go along with it.
"If this is what we're meant to do, why does it feel impossible? Going back to school knowing our life back home is in complete shambles," I sigh. "What about the house? We can't leave it like that."
We hadn't even stopped by our own house because of how in denial we were about what dad attempted to do the last time anyone was there. That didn't seem like two adults seizing the high road to press on. Instead, it felt like an excuse to escape from the responsibility of our dad's treatment. The cleaning of brain and blood left behind in our childhood home.
"We won't," butts Lorelei. "They have professionals trained to clean up things of that nature."
"And how do you suppose my brother and I pay for those services? It's not like we have trust funds to fall back on during hard times. There's no one but us."
My statement upset her because instead of interjecting with a rebuttal, she turned her attention towards dad and sighed. Perhaps I'd been too insensitive towards her when truthfully, all she's ever tried to prove to us was her love for my dad. Before anyone else gains the courage to continue the conversation by telling me what a terrible person I was, I've already made for the exit.
In this wing of the hospital, the rooms are exponentially better as well as secluded from the chaos ramped in the emergency room. Because everyone in this wing had separate rooms with doors that shut instead of cheap curtains to block away from other patients, the corridor was pretty much silent apart from the occasional beeping of machines and light chatter from the nurses' station.
The vending machine isn't much further from dad's room. With every step further from the ICU I get, the more the intensity of the air begins to calm. At least long enough for the burden of responsibility to vanish. As I round a corner and shuffle my way through my pocket for loose change, a man standing in front of the machine gives it a debilitating kick that shakes a few snacks, though none fall out of their respective positions.
"Fuck!" he shouts, turning to round the corner but instead nearly pummels me to the ground. "Don't put your money in that machine. Fuckin' thing ate my change and kept my shit."
His face is flushed with anger as he runs a shaky hand through his hair and lets out an exacerbated sigh. I watch his jaw clench as sweat trickles off his forehead from his previous rage as he manages to sturdy my stance. He apologizes for his outburst and offers to repay the favor with a cup of coffee that I don't hesitate to accept. A little time away from my issues would put everything into perspective.
We walk the distance from the vending machine to the cafeteria with small talk. He introduces himself as Charlie; a good-looking 30-year-old, fit, blond man with a degree in agriculture. His reason for being here was his one hundred and three-year-old great aunt finally decided to linger around death's door. The doctors claimed she only had hours to live, he tells me. Before I could get the chance to explain my reason for being here, he reveals overhearing what happened as we waited in the emergency room a few days prior.
For the entire walk to the cafeteria, he babbles on about his great aunt. As if it mattered to me anyway. His great aunt lived an entire century while my dad was barely pushing forty. Who cared that she was dying—wow, how fucked up that seemed—but true. Instead of speaking any of what rested on the tip of my tongue, I keep quiet and proceeded ahead until we'd made it to the cafeteria.
Charlie pays for our coffee once we've ordered then we start the journey back to the ICU.
"I don't see how you're managing," he says, breaking the silence. "Losing Aunt Margaret is hard, but she's 103. She's lived," he continues. "Your dad is so young. I wish I knew what to say."
No one could say anything to make this feeling subside. It hadn't worked thus far so what could a stranger do that my brother and close friends hadn't already failed to do? Nothing. Right?
"Let's not talk," I say, latching onto his hand. He gracefully obliges and we find ourselves locked in a bathroom. Our coffees are long tossed to the side as our lips devour each other.
He pushes me against the wall, fumbling as he attempts to remove my jeans without my help but fails. Once I've freed myself from the compression, he hoists me around his waist and pushes his cock inside me. A weak moan escapes from his mouth as he begins to thrust his hips into me. It didn't help that his groans were bouncing off the walls of the bathroom. I imagine he had been loud enough to hear on the other side of the door but all I could think about was dad.
I mean, who knew what would happen if we were to return to Winchester? Were we supposed to go back to normal as if our father's attempt at suicide meant nothing? If we weren't here to monitor him, who knew when or if he would try it again?
"You like that don't you?" he growls, thrusting faster.
"What? Oh—yeah."
At least if I were to return, I'd have something to distract myself with instead of worrying about what was happening here. The good news remained, that he would recover. Albeit with the possibility of ailments sustainable from the damage to his brain.
I manage to quiet my thoughts long enough to feel a gush of warmth fill me up before Charlie's strength fails the both of us and I'm stumbling for balance as my feet meet the ground again.
"Shit," he moans before pulling himself out of me. He buttons his jeans then buckles his belt. "Don't worry about getting knocked up, my wife made me get snipped two years ago."
"Wife? You're married?"
Before redressing myself, I squat over the toilet to piss and wipe the remnants of his release out of me.
"I figured the wedding band on my hand was all the evidence needed," Charlie says, flashing the ring on his finger I managed to overlook before our endeavors. "That was the best I've had in a while. You cum?"
I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and make my way over to the bathroom door to part ways.
"No. Might want to talk to your wife about what you could do to improve that." Jackass. I grab hold of my coffee that's no longer steaming then leave without a glance back.
Once I've returned to the ICU, I spot Chris and Lorelei outside dad's room inches apart from one another. Their faces scrunched in worry. It's Lorelei that spots me first and signals me in closer to them.
"It's decided," she says. "You leave in fifteen minutes. I don't want either of you to worry about anything except making it back to school safely."
Chris notices my resistance against her words and explains how she has agreed to handle all of dad's affairs for the both of us. Before I could even think of objecting, I spot Charlie walking in our general direction with his eyes trained on me.
"Fine," turning on my heels to book it inside the room. "I'll get my stuff I guess," I say, entering the room strictly to avoid Charlie. The only thing I had were the few changes of clothing Lorelei provided for us.
Charlie proceeds forward once he's approached our dad's room, but double-takes once he recognizes me in the doorway. He turns to me with a worrisome expression spread across his face and enters the room a few doors down from us. Perhaps it was his Aunt Margaret finally calling it quits.
Lorelei helps us take the few possessions we had to the car. She even hugs Christian before he settles into the passenger side.
"Let me know when you make it there," she says, attention focused only on my brother. "And I'll keep the both of you informed if anything changes with John."
Chris nods to her and she waves to me before I strike the engine and pull from the hospital parking lot.
"What was that about? You two hugging now?"
"Cut the shit, Alex. Really. This territorial attitude you have towards dad is what's going to make it difficult to get him the help he needs. Hell, she's rich, generous, and she's here, dammit. Mom isn't and she won't ever be again. The sooner you accept that the more you'll realize Lorelei is a good woman and deserves the respect she gives you. If you can't grow up and accept that, then you tell her to leave so you can take care of dad and all of his medical necessities on your own."