Untitled

by Jackie Chanel

  “Broken arm, three broken ribs, severe concussion,” said a deep male voice.

  Everyone shifted and made room for Sara’s husband, Tahir, and another doctor.

  “Hello, Aiden. I’m Dr. Portman. I’m your neurosurgeon.”

  Neurosurgeon? I must be in really bad shape to need a neurosurgeon. I looked down at the two lumps hidden by the blanket. What happened to my legs? The left one was encased in a matching dark blue cast from mid-thigh to my toes. My right leg looks fine. I tried to move it but nothing happened. I panicked.

  “I can’t walk?”

  “Not right now,” Dr. Portman answered. My mother burst out in tears.

  “You’re not paralyzed,” Roxy tried to reassure me, reading the panic in my eyes. “Tell him he’s not paralyzed.”

  “What you are experiencing is temporary, Aiden. You’ve had some trauma to your spinal cord. We had to operate quickly to repair the damage to the fractured discs that you sustained in the accident.”

  I tried my hardest to comprehend what Dr. Portman was saying. It sounded like he’s telling me that my back is broken. It sounded like he’s telling me I can’t walk. Which means...

  “I can’t play?”

  “You can’t do anything right now, brother,” Tahir answered. “You will be able to get back on stage again but not soon. You have a lot of healing to do. But we’re expecting a full recovery.”

  My mind raced. I can’t do anything? I can’t walk! My heart began beating so hard that I thought it was going to explode.

  “You are freaking my brother out!” Delilah yelled. “Everybody get out and leave us alone for a minute,” she demanded. “You too, Mom.”

  When we were alone, Delilah sat in the chair that my mother had vacated. Her normally tanned and smiling face had a couple of bruises that were beginning to fade. Still, she smiled at me.

  “Don’t let them scare you, Aiden. You’re going to be fine. I prayed about it.”

  “What?”

  She nodded. “When the paramedics pulled you out of the car, you weren’t moving. I thought you were dead. It was the scariest moment of my life.”

  “They took you into surgery right away. I called Kat and she took care of everything. She called Mom and Roxy. Then she sat with me and said ‘all we can do is pray.’ So that’s what we did the entire time you were in surgery. I knew you were going to be okay.”

  Lord knows I wanted to believe her, but the fact that I can’t move my leg is evidence of the fact that I’m not okay.

  “Just rest,” Delilah said. “I’m not going home until you do. We’re in this together, bro.”

  The next day, I wanted nothing more than to get out of bed and walk around, but I can’t. Everybody who kept popping their heads into this room was getting on my nerves. I had to send my mother out of the room at least three times. There’s only one person I want to see.

  “Where the hell is Ramey?” I snapped.

  “I’ve called her a dozen times, Aiden,” Delilah sighed. “She’s in London. She knows what happened. She’ll be here, Aiden. She promised.”

  “I got hit by a fucking bus,” I grumbled. “You’d think my wife would care more about that than a fucking photo shoot.”

  “Yeah, you’d think,” a familiar voice replied. “But I’m here so be happy.”

  I smiled. “I guess the next best thing is better than nothing.”

  “Next best thing, my ass,” Sunny said. “I snuck you guys Chic-fil-A and all I get is ‘next best thing’? Screw you!”

  But there was laughter in her voice and I’m genuinely happy to see my friend. Yesterday, it was her voice that I heard yelling at Roxy. Today, her voice was music to my ears.

  After we’d eaten and Delilah found some male nurses to flirt with, Sunny and I were alone in the hospital room.

  “So, how are you really feeling?” she asked me. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Scared as shit,” I admitted. “What if the doctors are wrong? What if there’s permanent damage to my legs? What if there’s something that they aren’t telling me?”

  “That’s not what’s causing that fear in your eyes,” Sunny noted. “I said don’t lie to me.”

  “What if I can’t play anymore?”

  Sunny breathed deeply and rubbed my hand.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Sunny said. “But you’ll play again. Your arms and hands are fine. I’ll roll you onto the stage every night if I have to.”

  “I bet you will,” I said. Sunny stared at me, her hazel eyes shimmering in the sunlight.

  “When I saw what happened on the news, I got here as soon as I could. They were saying that you weren’t going to make it. All I kept thinking is ‘Lord, just let me get there’. But I missed the last planes out of JFK and La Guardia. I sat in the airport all night, alone, not knowing what I was going to find when I got here.”

  “I’m alive, Sunny.”

  She rested her head on my chest. Her tears soaked through my thin hospital gown.

  “I’ve made so many mistakes when it comes to you,” she whispered against my chest.

  “I know things are different now, Aiden. I’m engaged. You’re married. I’m in New York, you’re in L.A. I should have said this a long time ago. I should have listened to my heart. But when I thought there was a chance that I’d never see you again...” her voice broke off in sobs.

  “Sunny, don’t do this,” I pleaded. “I’m okay. We’re fine. Let’s not make this any more difficult than it already is. We know how we feel about each other. That’s never gonna change. We’re good at being friends.”

  “Yeah, we are good at that, for the most part.”

  “And I love Ramey, and you love Xavier, right?”

  Sunny smiled at me. “Yeah, but I love you more.”

  She leaned over and brushed her lips softly across mine, leaving a trail of warm tingles from my lips to my cheeks. I wrapped my arm around her waist and held her close to me.

  “I hate it when you say things like that.”

  “Really?” she smiled cunningly.

  “Yes. It only makes things more difficult.”

  “At this point, Aiden, things can’t get any more difficult between us. Just because we know we can’t be together, it doesn’t change the way things are.”

  “I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t love you anymore,” I confessed to her. “I’ve tried it and that shit didn’t work.”

  “The only person who ever needs to know that is me and I’ve always known,” Sunny replied. “Even when you wouldn’t admit it.”

  She eased out of my grasp and sat back in the chair.

  “Now that that’s out of the way,” she laughed. “Don’t you ever in your life scare me like that again!”

  “Sorry.”

  I heard the door open and the click of heels on linoleum.

  “Well, it looks like the gang’s all here,” Ramey said, staring at Sunny.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I should have been happy to see my wife but I was pissed. She should have been here days ago.

  “I got here as soon as I could, Aiden,” Ramey snapped. “You don’t just walk out of a Phillip De La Croix photo shoot.”

  “I almost fucking died, Ramey! All you can say is that you couldn’t leave a photo shoot? That’s bullshit and you know it!”

  “Calm down, Aiden,” Ramey said. “I’m here now.”

  Sunny stood up. “I’ll let you two have some privacy.”

  “Where are you staying?” I asked.

  “At the W.”

  “For how long?”

  Sunny looked at me, then at Ramey. Finally her eyes came back to me.

  “I’m here for as long as you need me.”

  Sunny walked out of the room. Ramey took her seat in the chair.

  “What does she mean by that?”

  “It’s self-explanatory, Ramey.”

  She rolled her eyes and started talking about her long flight from London and how exciting the photo sh
oot was. She rambled on and on until I fell asleep.

  Not one time did my wife ever ask how I was feeling.

  Chapter 43

  It took six weeks for my arm to heal and the cast to come off. Thankfully there wasn’t any damage to my arms or hands. I can still play my guitar.

  My legs are another story. It’s been months and my left leg isn’t completely healed after being fractured in three places. My right leg has limited movement and virtually no strength. I’m confined to a wheelchair. Even though I get my cast off today, I’ll be in this chair for a couple of more months.

  At least I can play.

  That’s all that matters anyway. I’ve been writing and recording since they released me from the hospital. The band has been extremely accommodating. I’d probably try to roll myself down an elevator shaft if I couldn’t get into the studio. A person can only watch so much television.

  I’ve even done a few small shows. They were Sunny’s idea. She thought playing for people would help boost my spirits. I didn’t want to do them because recording in a studio while sitting in my wheelchair is quite different from being wheeled onto a stage and playing for people

  Of course, she was right.

  My fans filled Rabbit’s, Eddie’s, and Smithe’s to beyond capacity to show their support. Being on stage, even in a wheelchair, is still the most gratifying feeling I’ve ever had. Some things don’t change, no matter what the situation.

  “Aiden!” Ramey called. “Where are you?”

  “He went for a walk,” Sunny replied sarcastically from her place on the couch. “Where the hell do you think he is?”

  “Why don’t you take a walk?” Ramey fired back.

  “Then who’s going to take care of your husband?”

  Sunny wasn’t kidding when she said that she’d stay in Atlanta for as long as I needed her. She checked out of the W after a week and moved into my apartment. She’s only been back to New York twice in three months. I cannot say the same for my wife. Ramey has been back and forth to L.A at least six or seven times since I got out of the hospital.

  “Kiss my ass, Sunny.” Ramey walked into my music room and flopped down on the small futon.

  “I don’t like her.”

  “I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.” I kept working at the computer, getting the graphics perfect for my new CD. Technically, Third Time’s a Charm is done. However, with Clausen Music Group, I have much more creative control over my projects and this time, I want to see if I can design the perfect album cover.

  “Your CD is done, right?” Ramey asked me. “When are we going home?”

  “I can’t go back until I finish physical therapy.”

  “What do you mean finish?” Ramey shrieked. “You haven’t even started. Dr. Portman said you might be in therapy for months before you can even walk with a cane. Do not tell me we have to stay here until then!”

  I don’t care what she says. I’m enjoying being here in Atlanta, close to my band and my real friends. I can’t do anything in L.A so why go back? I can’t even go up the steps to get into my house.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do in Los Angeles?”

  “The same things we have always done. We’ll hire a nurse to stay at the house and help you get around. We’ll get you the best doctor out there. You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not going back right now,” I told her. “I need to be here.”

  “I knew you were going to say that! Well, if I have to stay here, she’s - “ she motioned to Sunny sitting on the couch – “she’s gotta go.”

  “You leave!” Sunny yelled. “I’m not going anywhere!”

  Ramey got up and slammed the door.

  “What is it about the women in your life? They act like you might break if they’re not around. Did they not get the memo that you’re a big boy now?”

  “What women are you talking about?”

  “All of them!” Ramey yelled. “Kat, Roxy, Delilah, Sara, and that bitch out there. I catch more shit from them than I do your mother and she doesn’t like me either.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” I replied.

  “Of course it doesn’t,” she snapped. “You know, Aiden, you are so much worse than the average Mama’s boy. You have, not one, but five women constantly treating you like you’re the king of the world. Where does that leave me?”

  “You’re my wife,” I stated simply.

  “I think that means more to me than it does to you.”

  “Ramey, don’t start with the bullshit, okay. You want to leave, Ramey, then go. Leave me here, in a wheelchair. No one is forcing you to act like my wife and be here.”

  Ramey didn’t say a word but her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. I studied the photo collage I’d put together as the cover of my CD. It’s perfect. Delilah helped me find the best pictures of me performing over the years. All those shows lead to this...my best work to date.

  “Are you having an affair with Sunny?” Ramey’s voice was low, but not low enough for me to miss the ridiculous accusation.

  “My left leg is in a cast from my thigh to my toes. I can barely move my other leg. If I can’t have sex with you, how the hell am I gonna have sex with Sunny?”

  “There are other ways to cheat, Aiden. Don’t think I don’t notice the little smiles that you two share or how you finish each other’s sentences. I want to know what is going on between the two of you.”

  “There’s nothing going on.” I saved my work and powered off my laptop. “I’m going to go get this damn cast off. Are you coming?”

  “You don’t need me. Delilah and Sunny already said they’re going with you.”

  “Are you going to be here when I get back?”

  “Probably not,” was Ramey’s answer.

  I rolled myself to the door and opened it. “That’s what I thought,” I said. “Sunny, I’m ready to go.”

  Sunny hopped off the couch and slid past my chair into the room. Ramey rolled her eyes.

  “Always at his beck and call,” she muttered.

  “Someone’s got to do it since his wife is an unsupportive bitch,” Sunny snidely replied.

  “Are you going to bathe him and suck his dick, too?” was Ramey’s bitchy reply.

  “See my previous answer,” Sunny said and pushed me out of the room.

  I wasn’t surprised to find the apartment empty and Ramey’s stuff gone when we returned hours later. If Ramey is anything, she’s a woman of her word. Still, after three months in a cast, the joy of finally getting it off is not going to be spoiled by my insensitive wife. She needs to get over herself.

  Chapter 44

  “This crazy bitch is getting on my nerves!” Roxy screamed in my ear. I held the phone away from my face and laughed.

  “This shit isn’t funny, Aiden!” Roxy continued to yell. “She’s trying to ruin your career!”

  The current source of Roxy’s frustration isn’t me, thank God. It’s my soon to be ex-wife. Ramey’s become a real bitch and has been acting this way for over six months.

  Her blog, whatever that is, is her latest weapon she’s using to attack me. Our divorce is causing her so much stress that she goes to the Internet to vent and find comfort.

  Bullshit!

  She’s playing the victim in some shit that she started. What she writes doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is that people actually believe her! She’s a gold-digging part-time model who has nothing going for herself except that she’s getting divorced from me. Her blog is nothing but vicious rants from a spoiled half ass celebrity. She’s not a woman scorned. She’s a child throwing a temper tantrum!

  I just want to sign the divorce papers and move on with my life. I quickly found out that Ramey isn’t going to just walk away quietly, especially without a huge chunk of my money. That’s what this whole thing boils down to...my money. Ramey has her own money but she’s just being spiteful and greedy. I’m not giving her a dime.

  “What would you like me to do, Roxy? I can barely fuc
king walk! I have other shit to think about besides Ramey!”

  “You married her, Aiden! You’re the one she’s bashing all over L.A. You’d think you’d care a little more about your reputation.”

  “Well, I don’t,” I argued back. “You know what I’m concerned about...my legs. I’m still in a wheelchair, Roxy. Do you think I really give a shit about her right now?”

  “What did the doctor say?” she asked.

  I took a deep breath. My surgeon and therapist both told me the same thing again. Another surgery to repair the damage to my spinal cord is the only option, if I ever want to regain the full use of my legs and walk without pain. This makes surgery number three.

  I should have suspected something wasn’t right when, after two months of intensive therapy, I still couldn’t take more than a few steps without excruciating pain. I had to give up the cane and resort back to the wheelchair.

  “Another surgery,” I answered Roxy.

  “Oh damn, Aiden. I’m sorry.”

  I grunted something that was supposed to sound like ‘Thank you’ and told Roxy I’d call her back, knowing that I’m not. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I just want to walk. That’s it. I don’t want people staring at me in my wheelchair and feeling sorry for me. They don’t see how hard their stares and sympathetic words affect me.

  Everyone, from Roxy to Erica tried to encourage me to go out on tour for my album, despite having to use the wheelchair. I couldn’t do it. All I kept thinking was, once somebody pushed me onto the stage, I’d be feeling thousands of eyes on me. I couldn’t stand it.

  “What are you going to do, Aiden?” Delilah asked. She never asks questions about my recovery or lack thereof, but I know that she’s worried. We’ve never been through anything like this before in our lives.

  “I’m going to have the surgery,” I told her. “There’s nothing else I can do. I can’t not walk, Dee-Lee. This shit is killing me.”

  “I was talking about Ramey. She’s out of control, Aiden. I can’t respond to her bullshit fast enough.”

  “Fuck Ramey. There’s nothing I can do about her either.”

  “Roxy and Tracy want you to go to L.A. and take care of this in person,” Delilah said quietly.