The Last Post

by Renee Carlino

  Micah’s car had hit a tree at high speed, I learned. He should have been dead. Police officers guessed he had fallen asleep at the wheel.

  What were you doing, Micah?

  During my meeting with the orthopedic department, arguments and accusations were thrown around the room about how to handle Micah’s injuries. The head doctor set up a team. I was to assist in a very limited capacity, as I was still only a fellow at the hospital and new on the staff. I guessed that Dr. Lee had put in a good word for me. I made it very clear that I knew the patient personally, yet they still added me to the team.

  We would wait until status of Micah’s condition came in after his brain surgery.

  Micah was still unconscious in the recovery room when his family finally left for the evening. I kept my distance until they were gone, not wanting to disturb them as they kept vigil, or risk Melissa’s anger again. I knew it was coming from a place of fear and love. Those two elements combined could make anyone go a little crazy. I should know.

  When I walked into his room, his neurologist was performing an electroencephalogram to evaluate Micah’s brain activity. She didn’t acknowledge me as I stood opposite her.

  “What does it show?”

  “There’s brain activity. I’ll reassess in the morning.” She removed the sensors from his head and walked toward the door. In the doorway she turned back. “He should have woken up by now.”

  It wasn’t a medically induced coma. Micah should have responded to her touch, I knew that. “What are you saying?” I asked her.

  “I’m saying there’s isn’t much you can do now. Pray, I guess.”

  In the medical world I was used to, praying was reserved for patients and family members. I never stood in an operating room and said, “Pray,” to another doctor. It was an admission of powerlessness.

  “Pray?” I asked her.

  With her back to me as she wheeled the electroencephalogram cart toward the door, she said, “I’ll check back later.” That was it.

  After she left, I pulled up a chair, rested my head on Micah’s bed, and took his hand in mine. Throughout the night nurses came in and out, administering medication every couple of hours.

  I opened my eyes slowly as the morning light pierced through the window curtain. The sun’s warmth touched my back.

  When I felt pressure on my hand, I practically jumped out of my chair. Micah’s eyes were still closed but his hand was squeezing mine. “Micah,” I whispered, voice wavering. “Micah, open your eyes.”

  His eyes opened for a moment and then closed. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, my heart was beating out of my chest, my hands were sweating, and I was . . . praying.

  “Micah!” His eyes opened again. He moved his hand to his mouth and tried to remove his breathing tube.

  “No, don’t do that; let me help you.” I hit the button to call a nurse and searched for the instrument to remove the respirator. Once I removed it, he coughed and sputtered. When I ran a cloth over his chin and sides of his mouth, he wrapped a hand gently around my wrist. “Angel.” His voice was scratchy, but I was relieved to hear it, and shocked at how clear his speech was.

  “Micah, try to stay awake. Can you hear me?”

  He nodded.

  “You were in a car accident.” I was even more shocked when he smiled. “You’re hurt badly.” His smile grew wider, alarming me. Did he not understand a word I was saying?

  “I saw your face, angel,” he whispered. His eyes were searching mine.

  “It’s me, Laya.”

  “Laya.” My name came out like a breath on his lips.

  “I’m here.”

  Still wearing a smile, he reached for my hand and began stroking my knuckles with his thumb. “Why don’t you get in here with me?”

  “Micah, you have broken bones. You’re going to need surgery.” I couldn’t believe he was acting like nothing had happened.

  “Are you going to fix me up, doc?”

  “I think you need your head examined again.”

  “Why, because I’m in love?”

  “You’re on some heavy drugs. I don’t think you even know what you’re saying.”

  “You’re my drug.”

  The nurse entered and started administering more medication before she said a word to us. I think she was pleased that he was awake and conversing with me. Amused, even. “Can you call Dr. Lee and tell him Micah’s awake?” I asked her.

  “I already have. He’s on his way.”

  Micah lifted his blanket and examined his body. “Yikes,” he said.

  “They did emergency surgery on your femur two nights ago. I had no idea because you were taken to neurosurgery yesterday morning and that’s where I found you.” He touched his fingers to the shaved part of his head and felt the twenty staples running from back to front. “You’re going to need at least two more surgeries before you go into recovery.”

  His eyes darted back to mine. “You were there.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “In the operating room?”

  “Yes, I saw you.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “I saw you and heard you,” he argued, though he still looked to be searching his memory. “You were there; I know it.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I saw you talking to my parents.”

  “Micah, it was just a dream.”

  “No. My mother was sitting in a chair and you were explaining something to my father. Why was I mad at you?”

  “You weren’t.” I was growing more and more concerned, but I didn’t want to rile him up in his condition.

  “Yeah, you cornered me at the end of the hall,” he said.

  Realization smacked me in the face. Twins. His eyes started to close. With a smile he murmured, “I’m not mad at you. I love you.” And then he was asleep.

  “Micah?”

  “He’s out,” the nurse said. “I just pumped him with a pretty nice cocktail. He’ll be out for a while.”

  “Thank you . . . I think,” I said abruptly before dashing out of the room and heading toward the nurses’ station. I caught Dr. Lee in the hall. “He was awake, but they just gave him more pain meds.”

  “Was he talking?” Dr. Lee asked.

  “Yes. He just seemed a little confused but he was talking clearly.” He said he loved me. God, he said he loved me again. He’s doomed now.

  “That’s good news. Of course he’ll be a little confused.”

  “Is it normal that he remembers me talking to his parents when he was under?” I said.

  “I think you would have learned by now patients often have strange dreams when they’re coming out of anesthesia.” He smirked.

  “Yes. I suppose.” Really, I didn’t think it was a normal dream at all. I thought he and Melissa were impossibly invading each other’s minds.

  “Why don’t you go steal a nap? It looks like you could use some sleep.”

  “I don’t want to leave him,” I said.

  “You need sleep to be an effective surgeon.”

  I blinked several times, letting reality wash over me. As long as he stayed stable through the day and night, we would be taking him to surgery the following morning to fully repair his femur and knee.

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  I checked in on Micah before heading to an empty on-call room where I collapsed onto a bed and fell asleep praying I wouldn’t have any visitors in my dreams.

  26. Half-Timbering

  MICAH

  “She’s the reason for all this chaos in our lives; I know it.” I heard my sister talking to my mom, but my eyes were too heavy to open.

  “Oh, Melissa, stop,” my mother said.

  “Seriously! Micah and I break the same freakin’ leg within a month of each other and we both end up in this stupid hospital . . . where she now works.”

  “You got hit by a car. We taught you to look both ways. This is New York City, for the love of god.”

  “Mom, stop blaming me fo
r getting run over.”

  “I’m not blam—”

  My eyes finally opened when I realized they were talking about Laya. “Please do not fight while I’m on my deathbed.”

  “Micah!” my sister yelled, “you’re still an asshole, thank god!” Melissa wobbled over to my bedside. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” she said, laughing and pointing to her leg.

  I smiled when I remembered the moment Melissa and I had discovered how different we were. We didn’t look alike, but I thought we were the same. We were four years old and had just gotten out of the tub when Melissa looked down at me and said, “What is that? Where is mine?” I don’t know why at the moment it finally occurred to us; we had seen each other naked our whole lives. I think we were finally becoming aware of ourselves. Up until that point we had everything the same. If I got a fire truck, she got one, too. If she got a doll, I got one, too. Now, things didn’t seem so different than back then. If she had a broken leg, I had one, too.

  “Don’t joke about your deathbed. We thought we were really going to lose you,” my mother said.

  “Well, I’m here to continue receiving Melissa’s unrelenting insults. Speaking of,”—I turned my attention to Melissa— “how are you doing?”

  “Fine. I’m okay. I’m glad you lived.” She let a tight smile crease her mouth.

  “Gee, thanks. What about Kenny?” I asked.

  “Kenny who?” she said.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Melissa grinned like she was hiding a big secret. “I got Taylor’s number.”

  “The night nurse?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled wider.

  “I guess you could use a semipermanent medical professional in your life.”

  “Look who’s talking,” my mother chimed in.

  I began to laugh but stopped because it hurt my body and because I remembered what they were talking about. “About Laya . . . this has nothing to do with her. It’s horrible to even think she had anything to do with this. And even worse, you two are chatting openly about it. She helped save Melissa’s life, and it’s terrible to blame her for any of this. If anything, you should be thanking her and blaming Kenny.”

  My sister rolled her eyes.

  “Calm down, Micah. You need to take it easy,” my mother said.

  Just like that, I was thinking about the pain in my head and leg. “Fuck, this hurts. Can someone get a nurse and have her call Laya?

  “No,” my sister barked out.

  “Melissa, shut up.”

  As if I had literally asked God, the heavens opened up and Laya walked in the door. She made eye contact with my sister, who was expressionless, and then she turned her attention to me after saying a brief hello to my mother.

  “Hi, Micah. How are you feeling?”

  “Like a million bucks.” The pain was gone. She really was the best drug.

  She laughed. “Wow, I didn’t expect that.”

  “It only just happened a minute ago.” I had tunnel vision again. All I could see was her.

  My sister choked loudly behind Laya’s back. When I glanced up at Melissa, she had her finger down her throat like a ten-year-old. I ignored her.

  “Well, it certainly looks like the synapses are all firing well in that big brain of yours. You weren’t quite all there when I saw you last.”

  “Oh, I was all there, believe me.” I flashed back to her face willing me to wake up and speak. “Thanks for staying with me.”

  “You were in a coma.”

  “No, I knew you were here all night.”

  “Micah—”

  My sister interrupted Laya. “I feel nauseous. I’m going outside.”

  “Hurry back,” I said sarcastically.

  My mother shook her head and followed Melissa out the door. Before going into the hall, she turned around and said, “I’m glad to see you up and smart-mouthing your sister again.” She winked, then left the room.

  “I think your sister is mad at me,” Laya said.

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “It is sort of scary that people tend to drop like flies around me. She’s right for not wanting you and I to see each other,” she said solemnly.

  I shook my head. “Don’t, Laya. Don’t do that anymore.” She just said we’re seeing each other.

  She glanced down, playing with the thin blanket covering me. “Can I take a look at your leg now?”

  “Is that all?” I said, smirking.

  “I am one of your doctors.”

  “This is a dream come true.”

  “Either they tweaked something in your head or the drugs are a little too good for you.”

  “You’re good for me.”

  “They must have pumped the romantic part of your brain with steroids.”

  “Did you?” I asked her.

  “I still don’t understand how you knew I was there yesterday.”

  “Neither do I. Who cares?”

  “Let me look at your leg, Micah.”

  “Fine,” I said with humor. When I pulled the blanket back, I expected her face to blanch at the sight, but she was all business examining me.

  “Okay. It looks clean. You’re lucky. They were really just trying to save your life, but they did a good job stabilizing your leg for your next surgery.”

  “You cutting me open?”

  “Just your leg.”

  “I was really hoping you would have messed a bit with my brain so I’d have a new second language. Preferably a love language.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t touch your brain, but it seems to me your love language is very well intact.”

  “But you touched my mind?”

  “You are something else today.”

  “No, you are . . . something else. Kiss me; I’m hungry.” She bent and pecked my cheek. “I’m starving now,” I told her. Something about almost dying makes you want to blurt out your feelings to everyone.

  “I hate seeing you like this. You’ve been so kind to me and thoughtful and I can’t help but feel responsible for what’s happened to you.” I realized even though she had looked relieved earlier, I saw only sadness and exhaustion now.

  “Don’t let your mind go to that place, Laya. This had nothing to do with you. My sister caught her boyfriend cheating on her. I was driving to Maine, extremely tired, at eleven at night. It was a stupid thing to do.” I wondered if Laya would always feel like she was a dark cloud, like she was responsible every time something went wrong.

  “I have to focus on your surgery now. I have to treat you like every other patient.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, of course.” Laya was all business.

  “But you’re taking all the fun out of it.”

  “There is nothing fun about this. I’m going to meet with the head of orthopedics to check when you’re scheduled for surgery.” She squeezed my hand. “I’ll come back after.”

  “Okay.”

  “See ya,” I said, and noticed her smile turned immediately to a frown. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I have to go.”

  When she left, it finally hit me that I had almost died. I felt like calling Kenny and yelling at him, but instead I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The nurse came in and upped my meds again. I hadn’t even asked for more. About ten minutes later, in my drug-induced state I did actually call Kenny.

  “Hello,” he said, sadness lacing his voice.

  “Kenny, you’re a worthless piece of shit.”

  “I know.”

  “I almost died driving out to comfort my poor sister. Why did you do it?”

  “Melissa texted me and told me what happened. She followed it up with an emoji story.”

  “An emoji story?”

  “Yes. She basically compiled several emojis to explain how she was going to kill me.”

  “Sounds like something she would do. She’s very creative. Sooo, why did you do it?”

  “We fell out of love, Micah. Didn’t you see it c
oming?”

  “No, Mel was still in love with you. I know she’s a handful, but she loves hard. You’re going to miss it. It was totally selfish, what you did. You should have broken it off with her. You should have talked to her.”

  “I know. It’s just . . . she was slipping away. She went out and bought a bunch of junk food to spite me.” He said it as if it were the worst thing a person could do.

  “So what, stupid. So she ate some candy and chips in front of you . . . what’s the big deal?”

  “We just weren’t on the same page.”

  “Why am I having this conversation with you? Oh, I know. It’s because I actually love her.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I noticed Melissa standing in the doorway. She blew me a kiss and walked away. “Kenny?”

  He had hung up, the spineless weasel.

  Mel had never blown me a kiss, or shown me that kind of outward love. She didn’t need to, but lying there in my hospital bed, it felt good.

  I fell asleep shortly after that.

  27. Flying Blind

  LAYA

  It was impossible to sleep, but Micah didn’t seem to have any trouble. I popped in and out of his room throughout the night. I wanted to talk to him but I knew he needed the sleep. In the early hours of the morning Joe found me in an on-call room.

  “Laya, go home and take a shower.”

  I forced open my eyes to reveal Joe’s disappointed face. “You saying I smell?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said. “You need to be at your best today.”

  “Why are you on this floor? Shouldn’t you be up in neurosurgery?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject.” I didn’t know Joe well—I had only met him a couple of times since I had started my fellowship—but everyone told me he was the hospital comedian.

  “I expected you to tell me some jokes. Everyone says you’re funny, but you’re letting me down right now.”

  “What do you call a tired and smelly doctor?”

  “What?”

  “A bad doctor.” He smirked. “Get up. You’re going into surgery in four hours.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  I rushed home, got to the top of the stairs where I saw my neighbor Esther standing on the landing with Pretzel. “Laya, I told you I could only watch him for one day. He pooped all over your damn apartment and I’m not cleaning it.”