Wes and Toren (34 page)

“Slowly, okay?” I said, touching his knee and helping him put his jeans on. He was in a lot more pain than he admitted to and I was angry with myself for not realizing how bad it was.

We got to the hospital around three a.m. and the ER was pretty empty. A nurse called for Wesley after about half an hour and led him to a small exam room. She took his temperature and blood pressure while 256

J. M. Colail

he sat uncomfortably on the paper-covered table. We waited another ten minutes until the doctor showed up and asked what was wrong. Wesley explained his symptoms while I interjected regularly and the doctor asked Wesley to lie down. He pressed on his stomach and Wesley gritted his teeth in pain. Then the doctor calmly explained that he thought it was appendicitis and that Wesley needed a CT scan to confirm the diagnosis.

Wesley changed into a hospital gown and was taken to have the scan. I folded his clothes and waited in the small exam room, fidgeting nervously, until Wesley returned. He sat down beside me and took my hand, telling me not to worry. I kept my tears at bay, but I had to stare at my lap because if I looked at him, I knew I would start crying.

Minutes ticked by and at last, the doctor returned. He explained the results of the CT scan, confirmed the appendicitis, and told us that Wesley needed an emergency appendectomy. Wesley’s hands tightened around mine and I felt tears slowly begin to well and overflow. Wesley was lucky, the doctor went on, that the appendix didn’t rupture and that he was eligible for laparoscopic surgery, which consisted of four small incisions in the abdomen to remove the appendix. It was less invasive than the traditional procedure and greatly reduced the recovery time. The doctor had already spoken with the surgeon on duty and Wesley was scheduled for eight a.m.

“A nurse will be in shortly to give you some painkillers and a tranquilizer. Do you have any questions?” the doctor asked from the threshold. Wesley shook his head. “Well, take care. Someone from general surgery will come for you in a short while.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I uttered weakly, smiling as best as I could manage.

The doctor nodded with a customer-service smile and walked away. I gripped Wesley’s hand and he rested his head on my shoulder.

He was more afraid than he was letting on and, of course, he wouldn’t cry; he just clung to me for silent support and I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his head. I tried to ease his worry, even making jokes about how cute he looked in a hospital gown, but neither of us was in the mood.

Wes & Toren

257

A nurse came in shortly with pills in a small plastic cup and some water. She smiled warmly and told us not to worry and then left with another hospitable smile. Then another nurse from general surgery came for Wesley and he waited patiently with a wheelchair. Wesley sat down and took my hand again.

“Don’t worry. You’re gonna be just fine,” I told him with tears on my cheeks. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

“I’m not going to prison,” Wesley said with a light smile. “But I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I love you,” I whispered, leaning down and kissing him softly on the lips.

“I love you too. And don’t worry,” he said, smiling again.

I followed Wesley and the nurse out of the room and down the hall.

Then the nurse paused and he pointed to the left.

“Follow this hall all the way down and make a right. The general surgery waiting room is right there. And don’t worry, he’s in good hands,” the nurse said and smiled cordially.

Wesley held his clothes on his lap with one hand and waved to me with the other. I watched them until they turned the corner and then the weight of reality fell on my shoulders and I felt so heavy I could barely walk.

The waiting room was empty and I slumped down in a chair with my head in my hands. I hated that he was in so much pain and that he tried to hide it from me. I scolded myself for not making him go to the doctor sooner.

I wanted to call Mom and tell her what was going on, but I forgot my cell and I didn’t have any change. I had to call Wesley’s parents too.

My stomach tightened with the thought, but they needed to know. I pulled my debit card from my wallet and found a pay phone in the main lobby. I dialed Wesley’s old phone number and took a deep breath; I hadn’t even thought of what I was going to say. After three rings, Mrs.

Carroll answered.

“Hello?” she said, her voice a little rough from sleep.

258

J. M. Colail

“Um, hello? Mrs. Carroll?”

“This is,” she answered, annoyed that a telemarketer was calling so early.

“Um, this is Toren Grey, Wesley’s….”

“What?” she interjected with a tone of aggravation.

“I’m sorry to call, but…um, Wesley’s in the hospital right now. He, um….”

“What?” she demanded again, this time in a panicked voice.

“He…he needs emergency surgery. He has appendicitis and….”

“Where? Where is he?” she asked.

“The University Hospital. He just went in for….”

“All right. I’ll be right there,” she said and hung up the phone.

I still had the receiver at my ear and the fear in her voice sank into me. I felt guilty all of a sudden, like I let this happen to Wesley, like this was my fault. My chest felt tight and I couldn’t take deep breaths. She sounded so afraid. I hung up the phone and balled my hands into fists at my sides. Tears welled again and I blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

I called Mom collect and started crying again before I could even say hello. I choked on my sobs and Mom guessed what had happened.

She talked to me until I calmed down, and then said she would come up soon. I tried to tell her that I’d call her once Wesley was out of surgery and in a room, but Mom insisted on coming and I didn’t argue. Then I went back to the waiting room and listened to the clock until Mr. and Mrs. Carroll arrived twenty minutes later.

They hurried into the waiting room and I stood up quickly. They stared at me silently and I didn’t know what to say. I fidgeted my hands and Mr. Carroll glared at me.

“Where’s Wes?” he demanded.

“He…he’s in surgery now,” I stuttered quietly.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Wes & Toren

259

“He has appendicitis,” I explained, staring at the floor. I reiterated everything the ER doctor told me and I started crying again.

They sat down across the waiting room from me and I heard them talking quietly but I couldn’t understand anything they were saying. I sat in the wooden chair with the purple cushion with my knees together and my shoulders slumped, trying to take up as little room as possible, wishing I could disappear altogether. After a few minutes, Mr. Carroll went to the courtesy phone at the back desk. He spoke with someone but I only heard him mention Wesley’s name. Then he and Mrs. Carroll excused themselves and I was left all alone again. I took a deep, unsteady breath and felt relief that they were gone. I held my head in my hands, closed my eyes, and waited.

Mom and Alycia startled me when they entered the waiting room.

They both came even though I told them they didn’t have to. Mom hugged me and Alycia rubbed my back and promised me that Wesley was going to be just fine. We sat down in the empty waiting room and Alycia grabbed a 500-piece puzzle from a nearby shelf.

Hours passed as we worked on the puzzle of an assortment of postage stamps. Mr. and Mrs. Carroll still hadn’t come back. Alycia went to buy some sodas for us and we continued working on the puzzle.

“What time did Wes go in?” Mom asked, looking up at the clock.

“A little before eight,” I answered, glancing up at the clock too. It was just past twelve-thirty.

“Hmm. He should be out of surgery by now. Recovery too,” she thought aloud, counting back the hours. My stomach cringed and Mom patted my head. “Let me call. I’ll see what’s going on,” she said.

Mom went to the courtesy phone and Alycia and I watched her.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, then she nodded her head.

“He’s out of recovery. He’s already in a room,” she said.

We hurried and took the elevator to the sixth floor. I had to keep myself from running as we turned down the hall Wesley was on. My breathing sped up and my heart thumped against my rib cage. The door to room 612 was wide open and Mr. Carroll stood at the foot of the bed 260

J. M. Colail

with his arms crossed. Mrs. Carroll stood beside Wesley and I inhaled deeply, realizing I had been holding my breath. His face brightened and he smiled at me.

“There you are! Where have you been?” Wesley asked in a rough and raspy voice.

He had dark rings under eyes, greasy, disheveled hair, and an IV in his left arm and I thought he looked more handsome than ever. I unconsciously pushed my way past Mrs. Carroll and Wesley held out his hand to me. Tears filled my eyes and my lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Hi. How are you?” I finally managed to say, taking Wesley’s hand and squeezing it lightly.

Wesley closed his eyes and exhaled. “Really tired and a little achy, but a lot better than I was before,” he said and smiled again. “How are you?”

“A lot better now,” I answered honestly. Wesley closed his eyes again, but he kept hold of my hand. “Can…can I get you anything?”

“I’m really, really thirsty,” he answered, licking his dry, chapped lips.

“Let me get you some ice chips,” Mom said, smiling at Wesley.

“Hi, Amanda,” Wesley murmured, opening his eyes. He seemed surprised but genuinely happy that Mom and Alycia came to see him.

Alycia stepped forward after Mom left the room and Wesley blinked slowly but kept smiling. “Hey, little sister.”

“Hi, big brother,” Alycia said softly, patting his shoulder.

Wesley’s parents stared with furrowed brows at the foot of the bed as we took over the room and Wesley’s attention. Mr. Carroll folded his arms on his chest and looked out the door.

“You really had us worried for a second there,” Alycia said with upturned brows. “I thought poor Toren was gonna have a heart attack,”

she confided with a smile and a glance in my direction.

Wes & Toren

261

Mom returned with a Styrofoam cup filled with ice chips and handed it to me. She leaned down and kissed Wesley’s forehead and ruffled his hair. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, then stepped back.

“Want some ice?” I asked.

Wesley opened his eyes and nodded. I gave him an ice chip and he sucked it between his dry lips with a grateful smile. “Oh man, ice is so good,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. Alycia and Mom chuckled softly and I grinned lightly at them. “Gimme another one,” he said, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

I held another ice chip to his lips and he caught my hand in his, sucked in the ice and kissed my fingertips. I blushed to my ears and Wesley chuckled quietly, laying his head back on the pillow. I closed my eyes and forced a smile, knowing Mr. and Mrs. Carroll were standing right behind me.

“So, where were you? I was waiting forever,” Wesley asked, opening his eyes and looking at me. His voice was still quiet and raspy, but it lost its dry edge.

I shook my head side-to-side. “No one came to talk to me. I didn’t even know you were out of surgery until my mom called and got your room number,” I explained, squeezing his hand. As I spoke, I had a creeping suspicion, but I banished it from my mind.

“Huh, that’s weird. I wonder why?” Wesley asked rhetorically, looking up at the ceiling. “But, you’re here now, so I guess it doesn’t matter,” he added, smiling at me.

There was a knock at the door and a middle-aged woman in a knee-length white coat with black hair pulled taut in a bun stepped over the threshold smiling kindly. She had a stethoscope draped around her neck and hugged a large, metal clipboard to her chest.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Amani, Wesley’s surgeon,” she said in a thickly accented voice. She stepped into the room and made eye contact with each of us. “Wow, you’ve got a full house. Must be a pretty popular guy,” she laughed, showing large, white teeth. She set her clipboard down on the bed table and felt for her stethoscope.

262

J. M. Colail

“Well, it’s
supposed
to be family only,” Mrs. Carroll remarked quietly, crossing her arms and shifting her stance.

Dr. Amani ignored her, or pretended not to hear, and the placed the wishbone end of the stethoscope in her ears. “How are you feeling?” she asked Wesley, tilting her head to the side.

“Tired,” he answered, blinking slowly. “A little achy, but mostly tired.”

Dr. Amani felt around Wesley’s back and chest with the stethoscope, then pointed to his right side. “Can I take a look?” she asked, referring to Wesley’s incisions. Wesley pulled up his gown beneath the knit blanket and Dr. Amani inspected the cuts. “On a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst, how’s your pain?”

Wesley glanced at me and then at the doctor. “Probably a six. A five or a six, I think,” he answered.

“Well, we can get you some more painkillers for that,” Dr. Amani said, pulling Wesley’s gown back down. “Your incisions look good. The surgery went very well and I expect you’ll be back to normal in no time,” she said with a friendly smile. “Now, you don’t have stitches, but Steri-Strips that’ll come off on their own in a few days. You’re going to be tender on your right side and it’s not uncommon to feel some pain in your shoulder. But, all in all, you’re looking really good. We’ll schedule a follow-up exam in two weeks, so until then, no work, no driving, no heavy lifting. We’ll go over that again at your discharge as well as give you a prescription for oral painkillers. I recommend staying in bed, especially the first two days because you’ll be pretty tired, and no sleeping on your stomach, only on your back and maybe a little on your left side. Just take it easy the next two weeks and your body will heal itself,” Dr. Amani explained in a whirlwind of words. She picked up her clipboard and jotted some things down. “Do you have any questions?”

Wesley looked at me, and then shook his head. “Well then, I’ll send in a nurse for more Demerol and if you’re feeling well enough, you may even be able to go home tonight.”