What I Didn't Say (7 page)

“Now, Jake,” Dr. Calvin said.  Something tugged just slightly on my neck.  Tape, hopefully.  My stomach churned.  “You’re still going to be really tender for a few weeks.  You’re going to have to take it easy.  Your doctor on the island will remove these stitches at the end of the week, but again, be careful.  No scarves or turtlenecks, or anything that will stay in contact with your neck for an extended period of time.  You want to make sure you keep out any chances of infection.”

Dr. Calvin wadded up a bunch of bandaging and threw it into the trash, followed by his gloves.

Everything was finally off.

Dr. Calvin looked toward the end of the bed, at the mirror that hung on the wall.  So did Mom. 

I knew they were waiting for me to look at it.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling my heart pound in my chest.  My skin prickled as I broke out into a sweat.

Seeing the evidence of the t-post’s implantation in my throat was just one more way of making this whole nightmare real.

Don’t be a pussy
, I thought to myself. 
Just look at it.

Holding my breath for a second to calm down, I nodded my head just once.  I pushed myself to my feet and walked over to the mirror.

My eyes couldn’t help but immediately jump to my throat.  Or what was left of it.

The skin there was a mess.  A big line of stitches ran from the right side of my neck, zig-zaging up, trailing to the left.  There was a large hole on the right side of my neck.  The side where the post had entered.

I tentatively reached a hand up, lightly touching my fingers to the hole.

The skin that covered it looked weird.  Like it wasn’t really my skin.

“That’s the skin graft,” Dr. Calvin explained, coming to stand by me.  “You’ll find things feel a little different.  That’s because the vocal chords are gone.  It’s going to take some getting used to.”

I continued staring at myself and nodded absentmindedly. 

I had been right when I joked with my friends earlier.  It was going to be an impressive scar.

“You okay, Jake?” Mom asked.

I blinked suddenly, realizing I hadn’t done so since I first looked in the mirror.  I nodded, my throat feeling tender.

Dr. Calvin nodded as well, watching my face, like he was expecting me to freak out at any moment.

I kind of wanted to freak out.  But my body felt sort of weird.  Almost like I was on some kind of drug that didn’t let me fully feel pain.

“Okay, then,” Dr. Calvin finally said, turning back to Mom.  “If you’ll just sign these papers you’ll be good to go.  Jake’s medication is in that bag there and the rest of it will be delivered to your house in a few days.”

“Thank you for everything, Dr. Calvin,” Mom said.

I just kept looking in the mirror as Dr. Calvin left and Mom set to gathering up our stuff.

They were
gone
.  The pieces of me that made my voice work were
gone
.

What did they do with body parts after they’d been removed from the body?

“Jake,” Mom said from the door.  I finally looked over at her, seeing her with her arms loaded with our bags.  “You ready?”

I looked back at myself just once more.

It was time to get back to reality.

I nodded and walked over to her, grabbing my backpack from her hand and slinging it over my shoulder.  She gave me a long look, studying my face and eyes.  She offered a small smile and placed a hand on my cheek.

“Let’s go home,” she said quietly, rising up on the balls of her feet to press a quick kiss to my forehead.

We stepped out the door and let it slide quietly closed behind us.

6 hours ‘til full reality of home

It seemed weird that I had changed so much the last two weeks but the world hadn’t.  Seattle still looked the same as we made our way to the freeway, so did Everett and Mount Vernon.  Mom ran into the grocery store in Anacortes before we got to the ferry to grab a few things.  I stayed in the car.

You still coming home today?
Rain texted.

Yeah,
I replied. 
We’re catching the three ferry.

Hope the boats aren’t too crazy so you can get on.

Dr. gave us a med pass, we’ll get on,
I answered. 
Stupid tourists.

Seriously.  Can’t wait to see you man.  Carter says hi.

Tell him hi.  See you soon.

Truth was, I didn’t really want to see anyone any time soon.

Just one more way to make this all real.

Glancing up, I saw Mom pushing a shopping cart out of the store.  Pushing my nerves back, I slid the phone back into my pocket, and got out to help her put the groceries in the back of the car.

The ferry wasn’t as bad as it had been a few weeks ago.  Now that it was mid-October, most of the summer tourists were headed back to work or school, but there were still the real old-timers who liked this time of year when the weather was still fairly warm but it wasn’t quite so insane.  Not that it mattered, we got on the ferry just fine with Dr. Calvin’s medical priority load pass.

Mom and I didn’t talk much as we slowly loaded onto the massive ferry.  Before that day we would have gone up onto the passenger deck as soon as we parked, but that day we both just hunkered down and pretended to be asleep as the ferry cut through the waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Normally I hated the three o’clock ferry because it stopped at both Lopez and Shaw Island before going to Orcas, so it took forever to get home, but that day there weren’t enough islands to stop at before the ferry pulled into the dock.

The ferry workers lowered the ramp and secured the boat with bored and well-practiced movements.  And then car engines roared to life, a trail of red taillights flashing on in a row.

And finally we were waved forward and the tires met the narrow roads of Orcas Island.

Home.

But everything about home was going to be different from then on.

We didn’t get a mile away from the ferry landing when a gigantic sign on the side of the road came into view.

Welcome Home Jake!
it read.  There were large hearts painted on the white paper, handprints, and signatures from what looked like half the island.

A small little smile threatened to break on my lips.  I noticed that Mom had a tiny smile on her face as we drove passed it.

The narrow road slowly wound through the trees and fields.  Driving on the island was a little different than it was driving on the mainland.  When the fastest road was only forty, no one was ever in a huge hurry.  We were back on island time.

We pulled into the driveway, finding another gigantic paper sign taped to our garage door.  This one read
We Love And Miss You, Jake!

A small smile did finally crack on my face when I found Samantha’s name written on it, in big orange letters.

I helped Mom carry the bags in, stepping through the front door. 

About a million balloons were hugging the ceiling in the living room.  A thousand cards lay on the coffee table, a handful of stuffed animals were lined up in the window seat.

“Well look at that,” Mom marveled as she stepped in behind me.  She actually laughed.  “I think your school missed you.”

I just nodded, taking it all in.  This hadn’t just been my high school.  This had been the whole island.

“Wow,” Mom called from the kitchen.  “Look at that stack of dishes.”  She laughed. 

I walked into the kitchen with the groceries to see what she was talking about.  There was a stack of casserole dishes, mixing bowls, and Tupperware with names I recognized written on them.  It looked like our family had been well-fed while Mom was with me.

“Jake?” I heard a voice from upstairs.  A second later it sounded like a heard of buffalo were pounding down the stairs.  I was suddenly attacked in a dog-pile of a hug that sent all of us to the ground.

“Hey!  Hey!” Mom yelled, pulling Joshua and James off of me.  “The stitches, the stitches!”

“Sorry, Jake,” they both said in unison, pulling me to my feet.  I just tried to laugh, and punched both of them in the arm.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Jamie said, coming at me a little more gracefully.  She pulled me into a hug.  I felt pathetic that it still hurt just a little whenever someone touched me.

“Ugh,” Joshua said, eying my throat.  “That’s so gross!”

“Josh!” Mom gasped, wrapping a hand over his mouth.  “You can’t say stuff like that to him.”

“It is pretty disgusting,” James said, eyeing it up close.

“James!” Jamie shrieked, slapping at his arm.

I pulled out the small notebook I now always carried in my pocket. 
He’s right,
I wrote. 
It is pretty nasty.

Jamie just sighed and rolled her eyes as she walked out of the kitchen.  “Boys,” she said as she disappeared back up the stairs.

I was glad to see that not everything had completely changed.  Jamie still acted like a thirteen year-old girl.  The boys were still honest, gross boys.

“Does it hurt?” Joshua asked, released from Mom’s grasp.

Not too bad,
I wrote.  It felt weird trying to communicate like this.  Like the whole conversation was in slow motion.  It felt like I couldn’t quite write fast enough.

“Cool,” Joshua replied lazily, wandering into the living room to watch TV.

“Homework, young man,” Mom yelled, neck-deep in the fridge.  The whole family swore she really did have eyes in the back of her head.  Joshua just sighed and turned to go up the stairs to his bedroom.

And just like that, the whole family seemed to go back to normal.  I stood there in the kitchen for just a moment, not quite sure what to do with myself.  So I did what I would have done before.  I grabbed my stuff, and walked to my room, like it was just any normal day.

5 minutes into reality

There were just as many balloons, stuffed animals, and cards in my small room as there were in the living room.  I couldn’t even put my bags on my double sized bed, it was covered with so much stuff. 

I normally liked to keep my room clean, but I didn’t mind that it was messed up with support.

Dropping my bags onto the floor in the corner, I gathered a handful of the cards and dropped them onto the dresser.  Pushing some of the bears, lions, and ducks to the side, I flopped down on my back, arms crossed behind my head.  That’s when I noticed the t-post, stood up against the wall.  Someone had attached a sign to the top of it, just a simple white square of wood.  Printed in neat, black letters, it read:
“The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible.” -Arthur C. Clarke.
  I didn’t have to inspect the post further to know it was the post that had changed my life forever.