Wreck Me (22 page)

“If you had read the instructions like I told you…”

“I don’t need the instructions. It’s a small dog stroller. It can’t possibly be that difficult to put together. I think you bought a faulty one. We’re missing a screw.” I hold the phone to my ear and scowl at his stubbornness. It rings and rings and Sutton doesn’t pick up. It worries me. He always picks up for me. Why isn’t he answering? My usually void and cold heart clenches hard in my chest and pounds out of control.

“Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I got to go. I got to check on him.” I’m panicking. Damon gets to his feet and grabs me by my shoulders.

“Deep breath.” His voice is demanding, but comforting to me. I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose and out my mouth.

“Now. Let’s stop by his place and see if he is home. Come here.” He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. It’s soothing, but only marginally. I can feel it in my gut. Something is wrong. I kiss Hemingway and put him in his new crate.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he was in the shower or something.” I wish he was right, but I know what I feel and what I feel is that something is off.

“Just hurry, okay.” He presses down on the pedal and we whiz through traffic to get to Sutton’s house.

“Turn here. It’s the third house on the right. See the gray four-door?”

“Got it.” Damon comes to a stop, but I am already out of the car and running up to Suttons door with my key in hand. He gave me a copy a few years ago just in case of emergencies and this feels like a fucking emergency. I jab the doorbell three times and immediately start banging on the door with my balled fist. Damon is at my side almost instantly.

“Captain! You home?” I bang on the door three more times and jab the doorbell three more times. I hear a crash from inside the house and I move lighting fast to open the door. The key slides into the lock and the deadbolt releases. The door jams and Damon puts his shoulder through it, sending the door flying back to crash into the wall. I run into the house and skid to a halt on the old hard wood floor.

“Oh shit! Captain! Captain! Oh, no. What happened?” I skid across the floor on my knees to him. He is in an awkward position lying on the floor in the living room. The crash I heard was the damn telephone. He’s pulled it down from the end table. His face is contorted and something is very wrong.

“Oh fuck. Call an ambulance!” I scream frantically to Damon. I hear him speaking to a dispatcher. I gather Sutton’s shiny bald head into my lap and wipe the spit from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh please. Please. Hang tight. You’re fine. You’re going to be just fine, Captain. Don’t worry. Help is coming. Just please hang in there,” I plead with him. His glossy eyes roll about aimlessly and I know this is horrible, something bad has happened. I squeeze his hand and he doesn’t respond. Damon crouches down beside me and presses two fingers to Sutton’s wrist and something alarming flashes, but I can’t place it. I feel so out of control right now. I’m shaking my adrenaline is pumping fast through my veins.

“Where are they?” I cry out on the verge of tears.

“Their coming, baby. Their coming.” The sound of sirens is a welcome thing. I hear them draw nearer until an ambulance and two police cruisers screech to a halt in front of the house. Two paramedics walk in with big black duffle bags in hand.

“Sir, Ma’am, we’re with the fire department. Please step back.” The elbow their way in to help Sutton. They take his head from my lap and start saying a bunch of shit in paramedic cod e language. I don’t know what they’re saying and it makes me angry.

“What are you saying? What the hell is wrong with him?” I scream at them. They seem to ignore me and keep working on him. Damon wraps me up in his arms and pulls me back.

“Ma’am, I need to ask some questions so they can better help him.” I nod at the third man in uniform. At this point the police and paramedics have blurred together and my brain feels hazy. He asks me a string of questions and I know the answer to about half of them. I don’t know what the hell he last ate. I don’t know if he has had any symptoms today. I haven’t spoken with him since he called to tell me about the store. What if he has been lying here all this time? What if he’s been waiting for me to come check on him? Maybe that’s why he was trying to get to the phone. I cup my hand over my mouth completely mortified with the thought that he may have needed me and I was eating fucking circus peanuts and shopping. Tears well and the lump in my throat is crippling. I gasp for air, but the choppy short gasps don’t seem to make it past the lump. I see colorful spots and I feel myself sway and lean into Damon.

“Shit!” It’s all I hear Damon clip out through the heart beat I hear thrumming in my ears. It’s dark.

“Baby, wake up,” Damon says into my ear in a calm voice. I jar awake, fully aware of what’s going on. I hear the sirens ahead of us as we speed to the hospital right behind the ambulance they must have Sutton in.

“You passed out. Are you okay now?” I ignore his question with one of my own.

“Is he okay? Did they say he would be okay?” I watch his profile from the passenger seat fall. Not good news.

“They think he may have had a stroke. He is showing symptoms consistent with a stroke.” I feel my adrenaline kick in anew as panic grips me all over again. I run my hands through my hair and stare ahead at the ambulance in front of us.

We park in the emergency lot and I run for the Emergency Room. Damon sweeps my hand up in his and we jog into the building.

“Stanley Sutton? He was just brought in by paramedics.” I pant out to a nurse.

“I’m sorry ma’am you’ll need to be seated in the waiting room. Someone will come speak with you as soon as they can.” I pound my fist down on the nurse’s desk and turn away.

“Dammit!”

“Hey, take a deep breath okay? You have to try to stay calm. We don’t know anything yet. He’s in good hands here.” I let him lead me to a chair in the corner of the waiting room. His large frame sits down in the uncomfortable chair. He pulls me into his lap and I cooperate. I sit across his legs and draw my legs up into his lap. I nuzzle my face into his neck and the tears and panic washes over me. An hour passes in what feels like ten. A doctor appears on the far side of the waiting room. The nurse who told us to wait speaks with him and points in my direction.

“Sutton?”

“Yeah, yeah. How is he?” I ask hurriedly.

“Are you family?”

“Yes. She’s his granddaughter.” Damon responds authoritatively before I can even think to speak. The doctor nods.

“Okay. We have your grandfather stabilized and he is being moved up to the ICU on the third floor.” The doctor takes the empty seat directly in front of us and my heart drops. This isn’t good. He glances at my left hand then back up to my face.

“Ms. Sutton, I’m afraid your grandfather has had a massive stroke that has caused significant brain damage. The scans show that he has considerable bleeding in his brain. We’ve done everything in our power to help him. Now we have to wait and see how he does in the next twenty-four hours. I’m sorry I don’t have more promising news for you. You can go upstairs and sit with him. He is only semi-conscious and he is likely very confused. I’ll be in to check on his status as often as possible.” He reaches across and takes my hand in his and squeezes.

“I’m so sorry Ms. Sutton.” I stare at the doctor in a daze. I‘ve heard what he said, but nothing registers. A stroke? His brain is bleeding? How did that happen? I’m not even sure I know what exactly a stroke is. Fuck! Damon lifts me from my seat and guides me to an elevator.

“Josephine, look at me.” He cups my face in his hands and forces me to look at him.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure your okay.” The same flash of familiarity jolts through me. This entire nightmare has me reliving the accident. The sirens, the paramedics, the hospital, the doctors and nurses. It’s all stirring up sheer terror from nearly two decades ago and I feel like I may falter beneath the weight of it all. I walk in a zombie state beside Damon to the Nurses station. My eyes are open, but they seem to be locked in a stare on nothing in particular. I am thinking clearly, but my eyes refuse to move or focus on anything. I stare blankly down at the floor.

“Sutton?” Damon says to a nurse.

“Room three-twenty-eight.” Damon leads me from the Nurses station and my eyes remain locked onto the floor as we walk. We enter a room that is much dimmer than the hall. I hear the sound of machines, and it snaps me out of my blank daze. I look up to see Sutton lying very still in the hospital bed. He is hooked up to all kinds of shit. Wires lead to and from his body; I have no idea what they all do, but the sight of them sends a chill down my spine. It’s bad. Really, really bad. Damon leads me to him. I perch myself on his bedside. He stands beside me as I reach out and run the back of my hand across his weathered face. My throat tightens painfully. I gather his wrinkled frail hand into mine and cover the top of it with my other hand. I’m careful not to tangle with his IV line.

“Captain, please,” I croak out through my tears.

“Please don’t go. Not yet. Don’t leave me.” I shake my head and tears stream uninhibited down my cheeks. He watches me hazily through heavy lids. I can tell he wants to say something, but he is just too weak. His skin is pale and lifeless. I feel panicked. I don’t know how to handle this. I may have a screwed up dysfunctional relationship with Sutton, but he is all I have. He has been like a father figure to me and we may pretend to hate each other, but we have a special bond. I have him to thank that I am off the streets. I came in and all but demanded a job. He gave me a shot. I used my pay from the store to buy the headstones that my parents deserved. I was able to eat decent food consistently for the first time since I was a little girl before the accident. I managed to put a roof over my head and bought a real bed to sleep on. He took a chance on me. It’s a debt that I can never repay. His hand squeezes mine just a bit as he closes his eyes. A crimson bead rolls from his nose and my sobbing turns uncontrollable. I know it’s the last time I’ll see his eyes open and I can feel my heart break with an all too familiar sense of loss. Damon pulls me to my feet. He hauls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. In one easy swoop he lifts me into his arms and I bury my wet face in his neck. He walks to the small sofa by the window and sits down. He swings my legs across his lap and cradles me. Nurses burst in and soon the room fills with medical staff, who work in vain to revive him.

“He isn’t going to make it is he?” I croak out through bone wracking sobs.

“No baby, I don’t think he’s going to make it.” I lean hard into Damon and drown in my own tears and sorrow. I’ve lost my Captain.

Three weeks hasn’t changed a thing. Of course, I should know this, but somehow I was hoping that Sutton’s death wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as my parent’s death. I was wrong and naïve to think such a thing. He was a father figure to me for seven years. I saw him six, sometimes seven days a week. I ate most of my meals with him. He always respected the way I am. He didn’t judge how damn terse I can be. He could tell I was screwed up, but never pushed me to talk about it. I loved him for that even if I didn’t realize it. I nearly fell to pieces when I found out that he left me everything. His house, his car, his life insurance…everything. His daughter and granddaughter have been estranged for years thanks to some bad blood between him and his ex-wife. I never asked for the details and he never shared. I was fine with that. Captain left me everything and three weeks have passed with me staring at the paperwork. I have the deed to his home. The title to his car. Everything. And I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t move into his house, but I don’t feel right selling it. It’s a nice house, but its Captains not mine. Damon has been incredible over the last three weeks. He has been my saving grace against the familiar dangerous despair that has been knocking at my door. His presence is the medicine that soothes my wounds. I have clung to him in the last few weeks and he has gladly carried the burden of a grieving, miserable girlfriend. I feel like he is all I have in this world, but he is more than enough. He’s everything. He’s it. He’s the one. I know it like I know my own damn reflection. If ever two people were designed for one another, it’s us. I have never believed in the whole love at first sight, soul mate bullshit until now. Until him.