Surge : A Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

Chapter
16 Samantha – The Surfer’s Girl

        I go to sleep that night with a heavy mind. After finishing my
paperwork and making my way back home, I really don’t have a lot of energy to
do anything else but sleep. Yet when I go to bed, my mind is still racing from
the craziness of the day. Everything has become so completely confusing. I don’t
know who or what to trust. In fact, I’m not even sure if I can trust myself.

        Eventually I drift off to sleep. Restless nights
full of disturbing dreams are becoming an annoying regularity. I remember
seeing three a.m. before I close my eyes.

My phone begins to buzz.
I’m not sure if I’m happy or upset to get the text from Mick, but there it is. He
has invited me to watch him surf. I hate the commercial surfing world, and
there is nothing I want more than to be away from that scene. But I need to see
Mick and talk to him about… us.

I am trying hard to
understand who Mick is. Maybe he’s a man caught in a bad situation. Maybe his
feelings for me are really what he says they are. Maybe giving him the benefit
of the doubt is what he deserves. I don’t know. I do know he has changed a
great deal since we were younger. I also know that what I need is some lucidity
and some answers.
It’s decided, then. I’m going!

        After a couple of hours of sleep, I ride my
bike down to the pier, knowing that it will be impossible for me to get a parking
spot anywhere, never mind a place to stand. I lock up my bike and try to make
my way through the throngs of people. It takes me a full fifteen minutes just
to get to the entrance. Not taking Mick up on his “special seat” is one way I am
going to prevent the unforeseen drama surrounding us. My hope is to be at an
observable distance. I want him to finish his competition without adding more
pressure to him and after we will sit down and talk. Soon the rail of the pier is
in sight, and I can see the surfers in the water.

       
There he is.
His wetsuit is black, like
everyone else’s, but his blond hair is hard to miss. Even in his wetsuit and
from this distance, the musculature of his body is easy to spot. He is ripped. A
tremor of excitement shoots through me and I felt like a teenage girl seeing
her favorite pop star in real life. It amazes me the amount of people who are here
to watch him surf. He is unquestionably the best. He looks so tiny down there
in the water, almost like little figurine. A smile creeps over my face, which feels
a lot like I have a secret that no one else in the crowd has. I am smitten with
Mick.

        Mick catches the next wave in. Watching him
from this angle, I can see just how incredible of a surfer he is. He is just
the right mixture of power and grace. He carves the waves with the precision of
a surgeon. It is pure magic to watch. There is something different about the
way he surfs, something that makes me think he knows more than anyone else. When
I watch him, it’s as if he’s having a love affair with his board and the waves.
That may sound foolish, but it’s true—he is truly different. It gives me a
feeling of pride to see him down there today. I know that guy, and he wants me.

        I begin to get lost in the competition. The
cheering of the crowd, the many leering eyes. I feel like I am on Mick’s team
and I am very nervous. I want Mick to catch every wave, hit every trick. I am
now utterly immersed in his success. Never in my life had I ever thought I
would be so into competitive surfing. Surfing, to me, has always been about so
much more than competition—it’s a place to go to find peace. It’s a quieting of
the mind, a place for self-reflection and growth. This is entirely the
opposite, the ultimate in consumerism aggression and tension. But I love it. I am
thoroughly enjoying the moment… until the sirens ring out.

        People begin to scream, others begin to run. I
am frozen, stunned. I have no idea why there is a siren blaring. There is mass
chaos in the crowd as people jostle and push each other. Then I hear the word I
will never forget.

“Shark!”

Fear and adrenaline jolt through
my body like a fuse on stick of dynamite. Sharks are a totally unexpected side-effect
of surfing. I try to look over the rail to see if Mick is in trouble, but the
crowd is pushing so violently, jostling me in every which direction, all I can
do is try to maintain my balance. We are packed so tightly together that even
though everyone is moving, now one is moving in any specific direction.

The horns blaring and the
sound of Jet Ski engines firing up mean that rescue is going to get the surfers
out of the water. Words cannot express the fear I feel, and somehow, I know Mick
is in trouble. I push to get closer to the rail as others push to get away. I see
the Jet Ski speeding out to the surfers. I scan the water for Mick and my heart
drops when I see blond hair and blood in a gruesome trail in the water.

Tears stream down my face
as I scream to him. He cannot hear me over the horns, the crowd, and the Jet
Skiis. I am not even sure if he is alive. I fight my way back off the pier. The
crowd is thick and immobile, and my efforts to get close are futile. After a
some long moments, I am able to push my way through and at least see what is
happening. A big crowd has formed around Mick and he’s lying on a spine board. A
towel drenched with red is wrapped around his leg. The paramedics are making
their way up the beach with some difficulty. The crowd has fallen eerily silent
as he is taken to a waiting ambulance.

The towel wrapped around
Mick’s leg was a stark reminder of what had happened. It is heavily stained
with blood. Sobbing, I cannot help but yell his name, the word piercing through
the silence around us.

       
“Mick!”

        There is no response. He is unconscious, at
the very least. At the very worst, he is dead. As I hitch and cry, a woman
standing beside me grabs a hold of me and pulls me in close. I don’t know who
she is, but I am quite glad someone was there to hold me. The crowd clears a
path so I can get through, there is a realization among them that I am more
than just a spectator to Mick. I run as fast as I can and get to his side just
as the paramedics are finished loading him into the ambulance.

        “Ma’am, please step back. We have to take him
to the hospital.”

        “I am coming with you.”

        “Please, ma’am, we don’t have time.”

        The ambulance driver turns to the man I’m
speaking to and says, “Put her in. She’s the woman from the picture.”

        The medic looks me over from head to toe. Never
has such an inappropriate look been given at a worse time. I push the offending
paramedic out of the way and jump in the back of the ambulance.

        “Ma’am, he is not conscious right now. He has
lost a lot of blood, but for now, he is stable.”

        “Mick!” I call to him anyway. “Mick!”

        Mick’s eyes are opening and closing, but the
expression on his face is lifeless. His pale skin makes the fear in me even
greater; he looks like death. I reach out and grab his hand, and he squeezes it
back, lifting his head.

        “Sam, is that you?”

        “Yes, Mick, I am here. You are going to be okay.”

        Mick’s grip goes limp in mine. The noise from
the heart monitor starts a scary, singular tone as he lies there, expressionless.

        “Ma’am, move back. He’s going into shock!”

        “Oh, my God. Do something!”

        “Ma’am, get out of the way.”

        Holding my hands over my mouth, I get out of
the way as best I can in such a confined space. The noise of the heart monitor is
deafening. As the medic continues to work, all of my regrets begin punishing my
mind. I wonder if I am about to see Mick die. Seconds feel like minutes.

        “Ma’am, get in we are going to need to move
fast.”

I jump into the ambulance and do my best to be out of the way.  The Ambulance
speeds through the streets with the siren on.

“Keep your hands clear. I
am going to have to shock him.”

        ZAP! Mick’s body convulses. Nothing—nothing
happened. ZAP! Nothing again. I cannot help but cry.

We arrive at the hospital,
the paramedic continues to work on Mick’s lifeless body. He performs chest
compressions as Mick is rushed out of the ambulance. There is a renewed sense
of urgency in their eyes. I watch in horror as the man who may be the love of
my life disappears around a corner, realizing he may never get to know what he
means to me.

Chapter
17 Samantha – Hospital anxiety

        All I can do is hold my hands over my face as I watch them wheel Mick
away from me. I have never been this close to someone and had to watch them
die. Tears stream down my cheeks as the thought of Mick dying before I even have
a chance to show him how I feel weighs heavy on my mind. I really did want to
give him my love. So many regrets now. So many regrets.

        ”I am sorry ma’am, but we need to leave now.”

       
In my vain attempt to exit the ambulance, I trip and fall, causing the
paramedic to have to catch me.

“Easy there, ma’am. Is there someone you want me to call to come and get you?”

        “No.” Really, who would I call at this point? I
need to be with Mick.

        “Uh… okay, well, go inside and they will tell
you where to wait.”

        I look up at him. “Is Mick okay? Is he?!” The
paramedic takes a painfully long time to answer.

        “It’s too early to say at this point, but he’s
in the best hands in the state. Be prepared to wait for some time. This is
going to be a long road.”

        I walk away from the paramedic in a trance-like
state. Who knew that my day would turn out like this? The paramedic calls to me
as I walk away in obvious concern, but there is nothing he could do for me, so I
continue on my path.

        I ask the reception desk where I can find
Mick. They let me know he is in the critical care unit on the fifth floor. Still
in a trance, I take the elevator and make my presence known to the nurse.

        “Is he okay?” This time, I feel defeated and
the question comes out softly.

        “It’s too early to tell. You may want to go
home. This is going to be a long recovery.” When I don’t move, she purses her
lips and sighs. “There is coffee on the table over there. We’ll let you know as
soon as there’s news.”

        “Thank you.”

        Walking over to the most convenient seat, I
see Tobin, Mick’s biological father. He shares an expression of concern on his
face, yet is still able to muster a kind smile. To his left is a very
attractive blonde who sits there, smacking her gum. It just seems rude.

        “Hi, Sam,” Tobin says in a calm voice.

        “Hi, Tobin.”

        “A hell of a thing.”

        “Yes, truly.”

        I have never been close to Tobin. It’s Mick’s
mother who married my father, but in the instant of understanding who he is to
Mick, a rush of emotions wash over me. I wrap my arms around him and cry. Tobin
places his arms around me in a consoling way.

        “There, there. Not to worry. Mick is a fighter.
He’ll pull through.”

        I look at him, puzzled, maybe even a little
angry. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. The last thing I need is false
hope. But Tobin’s expression does not wane or waver. He is serious. He’s
confident that Mick will be just fine.

        “How can you be so sure?”

        “Because I know the boy. I have been with him
his whole life, through all of his injuries. He always pulls through. Besides, what’s
the other option?”

        Tobin is right. Why shouldn’t I believe Mick’s
going to pull through? He needs my positive thoughts, now more than ever. Tobin
smiles at me as he sees me sitting in silent contemplation. He’s a good-looking
man for his age, probably in his sixties. His tanned skin is evidence of his
love of the sun. I assume he’s a surfer like Mick—perhaps he even taught Mick
how to surf. I feel a great deal of comfort with him and take it upon myself to
lean my head on his shoulder. Tobin puts his arm around me and starts to rub my
shoulder in a fatherly way. It’s nice to have his company and comfort. I do wonder,
though, how he’ll feel about me—Mick’s stepsister—dating his son.

        I begin to feel the sting of someone staring
at me. As I raise my head, I see the blonde sitting on Tobin’s other side
giving me the evil eye. A shrill voice comes shrieking out of her mouth.

        “Who the fuck are you?”

        “Uh, I beg your pardon?”

        “I said, who the fuck are you?! You must be
that slut from the picture on the beach. The mistake that Mick made.”

        My jaw sags as I realize who this is. It’s
Mick’s girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend. I’m not only shocked by her being there,
but embarrassed that Tobin may have seen the picture, as well. This is not
something that I want to deal with right now. All I want to know is that Mick is
okay. But she continues to pursue her gripe with me.

        “You know, he told me all about you and how it
was a mistake. You are being used. Mick and I have a history together, you are
just a fling.”

        Her words made the hair on the back of my neck
stand on end. I’m normally not one to engage in conflict, but I’m sick of
standing out of the way.

        “Listen, blondie, I am here to see that Mick is okay. It has nothing to
do with you, or anyone else. My concern is only for his well-being. Now, if
you’re interested in the same, sit there and shut up. Besides, aren’t you
supposed to be in jail?”

        The look of shock and horror on her face is priceless. I feel empowered
and strong, albeit a little embarrassed as the entire room looks over to see what’s
going on. Delia picks up her purse, stands up, considers saying something, thinks
better of it, and storms away. She drops her sunglasses and almost falls as she
tried to pick them up. Looking over at Tobin, I can see him smiling as if to
say, “That is just what she needed.” I sit back down, but my blood is boiling,
Tobin puts his hand on mine and continues to smile.

        “Thank you for getting her away from here. I didn’t have the nerve to
start a conversation with her.”
***

        I spend the next few days with Tobin, getting to know him, and through
him, getting to know Mick. Tobin has what I feel is the purest of hearts. He
gives me insights into Mick that would have taken years for me to find out on
my own. He tells me about the relationship with Delia and where Mick went
wrong. Speaking of Delia, she has stopped coming to the hospital, confirming
her character. I continue to go to Mick. I need him to be okay.

        Through this all, I cannot teach, but this
seems far more important. This is more important than anything, especially my
business. I thoroughly enjoy my time with Tobin, even if it’s laced with the
fear that Mick might not come around.

        The next morning, Tobin and I arrive together
on the fifth floor. We usually go in to see Mick first, and then come back out
to the waiting area. The nurses believe that hearing our voices might help
bring him back around. I’m starting to wonder.

After greeting the nurse,
we walk in and sit down by Mick’s bedside. I always kiss him on the forehead in
the morning. It’s very hard to see him like this, and it never gets any easier.
His leg is wrapped up from the bottom of his toe to just below his waist. It
makes me queasy to think about what it looks like underneath. Mick, however, looks
the same. His tanned skin against the pale white sheets is a stark contrast. I
think a lot about how he doesn’t belong here.

It’s not until this moment
that I realize Tobin knows how I felt about Mick. It doesn’t seem to faze him
in the least. Or maybe he’s just doing his best to deal with only the things he
can, at this point.

        I am rocked out of my contemplation by the increasing
frequency of Mick’s hear monitor. It’s subtle at first, and then progresses with
ferocity—his heart rate is definitely climbing. Tobin looks at me with horror. It’s
the first time I have seen him truly concerned. I look at the nurse’s station as
one of the nurses began to walk over. Mick jerks up out of his slumber just as
she arrives.

       
“Shark! Shark!”

        He thrashes at the intravenous tubes and is trying desperately to get
away. The look of horror in his eyes is sickening. Even though his eyes are
open, he has no idea where he is, that is for certain.

        It’s the most relieving, yet heartbreaking scene I have ever been a
part of. A mad scramble ensues. People rush over to prevent Mick from jumping
out of his bed and hurting himself. The nurses hold him down as Mick seems to relive
the attack with the shark. His eyes are open but he doesn’t seem to be looking
at anything. The nurse administers a sedative, which eventually causes his
thrashing to subside.

Don’t sleep now, Mick,
I think.
Not again. I have been waiting for days
. But Mick’s eyes close
as he again slips into a deep slumber.

        The nurse comes over to us. All I can do is hold
my hands over my mouth, unsure of whether to be relieved or upset.
What does
it all mean?

        “Guys, I am going to have to ask you to leave
now. We’re going to need to perform some tests on Mick.”

        “But this is good, right?” I ask her. “It’s a
good sign that he woke up?”

        “It is neither good nor bad right now. We need
to figure that all out. I know you are concerned, but the sooner we can get
started, the sooner we can tell you what to expect. Please go to the waiting
room.”

        Tobin places his arm around me and walks out
of the waiting room. I would not have left if he hadn’t been holding me. We say
nothing to each other, because we’re not sure what to say. According to the
nurse, it may be good, it may be bad. I hate waiting, but we have no choice. All
we can do is worry our way through the day.