Breaking Free (21 page)

He nods and then focuses back on the doctor.

“Do you remember what happened?”

He shakes his head.

“You were injured, Tyrell, and unconscious for a while, but you’re doing better.”

He moves his mouth, but no words come out, only meaningless
sounds.  He points to his lips.

“It may take a while for you to start talking again.  We’ll have a speech therapist stop by later today and come up with a plan.  Don’t be alarmed, this is fairly common.”

He licks his lips and then points to me.  He motions for me to come closer, but his hand is uncoordinated and flops on his chest.

The doctors a
nd nurses step back so I can move next to him.  When I do, he smiles again.  I lean down and kiss his cheek, which causes him to smile even bigger.  “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.  He nods and tries to talk but it’s all just jumbled sounds again. “Shh … I know how you feel,” I say, pressing two fingers to his lips.  He kisses them and then closes his eyes.

“He’ll be in and out of consciousness for a while,”
the doctor says, “but this is encouraging.  He’s aware of his surroundings and appears to have only minimal amnesia.”

“Will he be able to talk again?”
I ask.

“There’s a good chance
.”

Once the room clears out, I squeeze his hand and am
finally rewarded with a weak squeeze in return.

Chapter 34:
  September 1-6

As the doctor predicted
, JC was in and out of consciousness the rest of that day and the next.  Whenever he woke, he’d smile at me and want me near him.  I was always happy to oblige and think I may have made my dad and Nana a bit uncomfortable when I climbed in bed beside him.  He didn’t seem to mind, though.

By two days later, he was finally spending the majority of his time awake and the doctors decided to move him to a normal hospital room, not the ICU.  They also thought it was t
ime for him to get out of bed.

A
physical therapist is visiting him now and making him go through a number of exercises while lying down before he even tries to get him up. After the last one, the therapist says, “Your muscle tone is still good.  You must have been quite the athlete.”

JC smirks at that
comment and I know he’s proud.

“No steroids,” I point out.  “It was all natural.”

The therapist gives me a weird expression, but JC makes a sound that I’ve come to recognize as a laugh.  It’s kind of throaty and nasally at the same time.

“
Okay, let’s get you standing.”  He pulls JC’s legs over the edge of the bed and then grabs his arms.  “On three … one … two … three.”

JC leans on the therapist
, but wobbles side to side.

“It’s perfectly normal to be a little dizzy after lying down for so long.  It should pass.”

JC nods and then closes his eyes, his body still swaying.

“Try taking a step,” he says encouragingly.  JC lifts his leg, but as soon as he does, his body lists to the right an
d he falls into the therapist.

“On second thought, let’s put you in a wheelchair instead.  We’ll go down to the rehab room where I have more equipment.”  He helps JC sit on the edge of the bed a
nd then retreats to make plans.

JC hangs his head and it’s clear he’s disappointed.  “Hey,” I say, sitting next to him and wrapping my arm around his waist.  “You’ll get it back.  You heard the doctor, everything just takes a little time.”

He nods, but doesn’t look at me.

Things only go downhill from there.  He has multiple meetings with speech and physical therapists, but after three days, he can only say a handful of single syllable words
, not all of them correctly, and he’s really not much closer to walking as he seems to have lost all sense of balance.

I’ve been joining him at all his sessions, but he’s become more withdrawn and grumpy.  I don’t think he’s smiled in at least a day and half.  I can sense him getting discouraged, so I try to be even more positive, but I think that might
just further annoy him.

“Time to change your catheter,” a cheery nurse says, entering the room.

“I’ll wait outside,” I say, grabbing my knitting project from the loveseat to take with me.

For the first time in at least a day, his eyes meet mine.  What I see in them breaks my heart.  It’s not love.  It’s not optimism.  It’s defeat.  He’
s giving up.  I turn away and rush into the hallway.

While I wait, I text Marta, telling her
JC needs her help and maybe Kris’.  Kris was in bad shape and she’s doing well.  Maybe that’s what he needs to see.

W
hen the nurse finally leaves, I return and sit on the bed next to him, like I’ve been doing.  I try snuggling into his side, but he doesn’t welcome me.

“What’s wrong, JC?”
I ask timidly, not sure I want to open this can of worms.

His jaw is rigi
d as he stares off into space.

“I know it’s hard,
but you’ll get through this.  Kris is doing well now.  You just have to be positive.”

“
Fut tis.”

I cringe at his words.  He pronounces “ck” as “t” and he can’t say the letter “r” so I know exactly what he
means.  Fuck Kris.

“Shh
…” I cradle his head in my hands.  “You don’t mean that.  It’s just been a rough day.  Tomorrow will be better, I know it.”

“Fut You.”

He rolls over and I feel like he’s taken a knife to my heart.  He’s never talked to me like that before.  I bite my nail and swallow the lump in my throat.  I know he’s hurting.  He didn’t mean it.

I rub his shoulder and sniffle, trying to erase the pain he caused me with those two words.  “I love you.”  I know he can say that, he did it a couple da
ys ago, but he remains silent.

“Please don’t be like this,”
I whisper.

“Lite what?” he yells, sitting up and flinging me across the bed. “Trip—pp—le?”

“What?” I ask confused by his words and even more confused by his actions.

“Tri
ple!”

“Triple?  I don’t
understand.”

He grabs a cup of water from his table and throws it across the room.  “I’m
triple!” he says, jamming his finger into his chest. “Futin triple!”

It suddenly dawns on me what he means.  Crippled.  “No,” I say shaking my head.  “That’
s not what I meant.”  I reach for his arm, but he shakes me off.  “I don’t want you be negative.  You need to be positive.  Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Go!” he yells, pointing to the door.

Tears start falling down my cheeks.  “I don’t want to.”

“Go!”

He picks up his plate of uneaten dinner and throws that against the wall.  It lands on the floor next to the cup.

“JC, you’
re upset,” I say, standing.  “I’ll give you a little space to calm down.  Can I come back tonight?”

“No!”

“Please?”  I reach for his face, but he pushes my hand out of the way.

“Go!  Now!”

Just then, Marta enters.  She eyes the mess on the floor and then JC who is clearly agitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“He wants me to leave.”

“Why?”

I fidget, not wanting to tell her what he thought I meant.  I didn’t mean that.  I would never think that.  He has to know that.  “I don’t know.”

“JC, can we talk about this?
”

“I tan’t talt
!”

“Yes, you can.  What’s wrong?”

He picks up the television remote and throws it against the wall.  Next is the vase with flowers from Marta.  That shatters with a loud crack and an impressive mess.  Then it’s the pillows and blanket on the bed.  We’re lucky there’s nothing more substantial within his reach.

“Why don’t yo
u go back to the hotel tonight,” Marta says to me.  I wipe the tears away and nod.  When I’m at the door, I glance back at JC, but he won’t even look at me.  He’s still got that angry glower as he stares at nothing.

Chapter 35
:  September 7

The next morning
, I
sit on my bed, flipping television channels without thinking while I wait for Marta.  She texted me in the middle of the night saying that she was going to come talk to me and my dad in the morning.  My dad took over Marta’s hotel room last night so I look through the adjoining door for him, but he’s still in the bathroom.  I really just want to run back to the hospital, but Marta told us to wait for her.

I yawn as I
reply to her message, asking when she’ll arrive.

Last night was awful.  I tossed and turned
for hours only to fall asleep a few minutes before Marta’s text arrived.  After I read that, there was no more sleeping.

I
’m worried what she’ll say.  I assume she was still with JC when she texted, which means they had a lot of time together.  I want to believe she changed his mind, but if that was the case, why would she need to see me?

“You up
, kiddo?” My dad asks, peeking into my room.

“Yes.
  Have you heard from Marta?”

He checks his phone.  “She’ll be here in ten minutes.
  Why don’t you clean up while I get us some breakfast from downstairs?”

I
shower in five minutes flat and then have a muffin and some coffee with my dad.  The whole time, I tap my foot and check my watch.  Right on time, there’s a knock on my door.  I run to it and yank it open.

“Good morning
,” Marta says, stepping inside.  “How are you?”

“Stressed.  Is he okay?”

She sighs and my stomach drops.  I lower myself onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s frustrated with himself.”

“He’s not mad at me?”

“No, no.”  She sits down next to me and smooths her pants before she
continues.  “He just … needs some time to accept what’s happened.  It can be hard for people when they come out of a coma and things are no longer how they remembered.  He needs a lot of physical and speech therapy.”

I nod.  “I can help him.”

“Maybe in time.”

“No, not in time.  Now.”

Resting her hand on my knee, she says, “I don’t think that’s in his best interest at this moment.”

“You’re telling me to leave?”

“Go home.  Go to school.  You need to get back to your life.  He’ll be in touch when the time is right for him.”

“What about m
e?  Don’t I get a say in this?”  I stand up and pace between the door and the bed.

“If you care for him, you’ll
understand that he needs this time to heal.  It’s hard for him … when you see him like this.”

I shake my head.  “
I love him just the same.  I want to help.  Why won’t he let me help him?”

“I believe he will
eventually.  It’s just too much for him to take in right now.”

My dad steps behind me
and rests his hands on my shoulders.  “We have to trust Dr. Sanchez, Kelsie.  Let’s give him a little time.”

My shoulder
s slump at the news.  It’s not what I wanted to hear.

“I promise we’ll come back as soon as he’s ready to see you,” my dad offers.  “We can be in the air within an hour of the call.”

“He doesn’t like me anymore,” I whisper, squirming out of my dad’s touch.

Marta grabs my arm.  “That’s not true.  Don’t think that.  He loves you so much that he can’t stand for you to see him like this.  He’s proud.  You know that.”

“Will you tell me how he’s doing?”

She nods.  “
I’ll tell you everything he wants me to tell you.”

“So, ba
sically, nothing?”  I throw clothes into my bag and then walk to the bathroom to gather my toiletries.

When I return, Marta says,
“We don’t know that.”

“Can I say bye?”

“I’ll tell him for you.”

I
frown and throw my soap and shampoo into my bag.  “This is it, then.  We’re leaving and maybe, some day in the future, I’ll talk to him again?”

“Kelsie
, I know you’re upset, but I really do think he’ll come around.  Once he starts making some progress in therapy, he’ll have a more optimistic attitude and things will change.”

I
say nothing as I tug on the zipper to close my bag.  After that, I reach for my bag and see his journal sticking out the top.  I hand it to Marta.  “Can you give him this?  Maybe it will remind him how he used to feel.”

She nods and then passes
me a slip of paper.  “This is JC’s grandmother’s number.  She wanted me to give it you.  She said you can call anytime.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”  I grab the paper from her hand and study the nu
mber.  “This changes everything,” I say with a smile.

“Ho
w so?”

“I’m family.  She’ll tell me how he’s doing.
  Plus, he’ll listen to Nana.  If she wants me back, he’ll want me back.”

Marta tsks and shakes her head.  “Give him time,
cariño.”

*****

Over the next six hours, my dad and I travel home.  It’s a quiet trip and I focus on my knitting project rather than obsessing about JC.  Marta thinks he’ll come around, plus I have a direct line to Nana.  I really do believe she’ll help me out.  I’ve been without him before and made it though.  This is a hundred times better than before because he’s alive.  Even if he doesn’t ever want to see me again, at least he’s alive.  It’s too bad that consolation doesn’t fill the vacant spot in my heart.

When we walk through the door to our house, it immediately feels
empty.  That has to be because Marta’s gone.  There’s no way I could miss Sheila.  I’d take complete silence over her constant criticism.

“So,” my dad says, rolling his suitcase against the wall, “on the way home, I was thinking that maybe we need to get a dog.”

I spin around to face him, completely shocked.  “A dog?  I asked for a dog for like eight birthdays in a row and you always told me we weren’t dog people.”

“I need to be more open-minded.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“When can we get it?”

He looks at his watch and then says, “The shelter’s open for another hour.”

I shriek and then we hop back in the car and drive over to the local shelter.  When we tell a volunteer at the front desk that we’re looking for a dog, she walks us through a door and down a long hallway.  At the end, we can go either left or right.  She tells us big dogs are to the left in runs and little dogs are to the right in cages.

“Big or little?” my dad asks.

“I don’t know … little would be good because she could go anywhere with us.  But a big dog would be better for going on walks or hikes.”

“Let’s look at both then.”

We turn left and walk down the hallway as dogs rush up to the fencing between us.  I hold out my hand and they each sniff it as I go by.  They’re all cute and I begin to think I won’t be able to make a decision.  How do you select just one?

When we get to the end of the hallway, I don’t see a dog in the last cage so I turn around.
  “Hey girl,” my dad says, sticking his fingers through the fencing.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asks the volunteer.  I join him and see a medium-sized, plain brown dog with short hair
lying in the back of her cage.  She’s got a wide head, floppy ears, and sad eyes.

“She was found along a highway.  There was another dog that had been hit by a car and
she wouldn’t leave his side.  After two days, a good Samaritan called us to pick her up.  I think she misses him.”

“We’ll take her,” I say, without even thinking.

“Do you want to meet her first?” my dad asks.

“Not necessary.”

The volunteer opens the door and tells me to go inside anyway.  I walk towards the back and sit down on the floor next to her.  When I hold out my hand, she sniffs it.

“Sounds like we’ve both had some rough times,” I say, patting her head.  “I promise to help you if you’ll help me.”

She scoots forward and lays her head on my lap.

“Where do I pay?” my dad asks, knowing there’s no
way we’re going home without this dog.

After taking Daisy to a do-it-yourself dog bathing place and stopping at the pet store for
bowls, food, treats, toys, collar and leash, and dog bed, we arrive back home.  I show her around our backyard so she can do her business and then set up her food and water bowls in the kitchen.  My dad orders pizza for dinner so I flop down on the couch while I wait.  Daisy jumps up next to me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” my dad says, holding up his hands.  “That’s expensive furniture.  She’ll get dog hair on it.”

I walk to my bedroom and grab a fleece blanket from the closet.  When I return, I lay it across the couch and pat it.  “Over here, Daisy.”

She crawls onto the blanket and then I sit
next to her, petting her neck.  After a few minutes, I decide I should check in with Nana, who I now have on speed dial.  I push her number and she answers after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Nana, it’s Mal.”

“Oh
, it’s so nice to hear from you.  Are you home?”

“Yes.”

“How are you?”

“Okay.  I miss you and JC.”

“We miss you, too.”

“Does he really miss me?”

“In his heart.  He’s just being disagreeable right now.  That’s the devil doing his work.  Have faith, child.  He will prevail.”

I hear JC yell something in the background, but it sounds garbled.

“Tell him I got a dog today.  I named her Daisy.  She’s lonely, too.”

“
I will.”

“Tell him I love him.”

“Certainly.”

I pause and then realize there’s not much else I can say.  He probably doesn’t
even want to hear what I’ve already said.  “I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Nana.”

After she says goodbye, I hang up and wonder how long it’s going to take for him to get better.  Is it possible he might never be able to talk the same again?  That has to be worse than walking—at least he can get a wheelchair for that.  If he can’t talk, he
can’t communicate with people.  Unless he learns sign language.

“I think I just had a brilliant idea, Daisy girl.  Do you want to help me shop online?”

She cuddles closer to me, which I take as a yes.

Maybe if he can explain things to me,
he won’t get so frustrated.  I open up the browser on my phone and go straight to Amazon where I find a highly-rated book on sign language.  I buy two and have one shipped to me and one shipped to JC at the hospital.

I rub Daisy’s head.  “At least I feel like I’m doing something.”

Once the pizza arrives, my dad sets it on the coffee table and joins me on the couch.

“Ham and pineapple,” I say after
opening the lid.  “Thanks.”

“See, I’m opening my mind to
all kinds of new things.  A dog.  Pineapple on my pizza.  Who knows what will be next?”

Just then, my phone ri
ngs.  I practically drop my slice as I fumble for it, hoping it’s JC.  The caller ID shows that it’s Elise.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kelsie.  It’s Elise.  How are you doing?”

“Fine.  How are you?”

“Good.  I saw your light on.  Are you back from your trip?”

I wonder who told her about my trip.  It wasn’t me, but she obviously knew because she never tried to contact me when I didn’t show up for our renovation date.

“Yes, we got back today.”

“How is everything?”

Daisy rests her head on my lap, so I rub her ear.  “Okay.”

“Do you want to come over tomorrow to work on Jenna’s room and talk about it?”

“Um … sure.”  Daisy whines like she understands what I agreed to.  “Can I bring my dog?”  Jenna had a dog when we were younger, but they never got another one after he died.

“You have a dog?”

“Yes.  We adopted her today.  She’s well behaved.”

“
Sure.  Maybe she can help us with the demo,” she says with a small laugh.  “Nine in the morning work for you?”

I agree, say goodbye, and
then explain my plans to my dad, feeling less than excited.  I know it’s probably good for me to do this.  It probably will be therapeutic like Elise says, but that doesn’t ease the pain I’ll feel when we tear down her room.  The one thing remaining of her.