Vain: A Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

Chapter 15 – The Surfer’s Girl - Sam

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 16 Day 16 – 20 Samantha’s perspective.
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.