by B. E. Baker
I mumble something. No idea what, and then I hang up.
When I hear a tap on the door and Dr. Anthony pokes his head inside, I force a smile. “I’m ready. Thanks.”
“Good to hear. If you hand me your phone I’ll put it with your other belongings. Then lie back here, and we’ll take you down.”
I lie down and close my eyes. I hope it’s not the last time, but I can’t bring myself to open them again the entire way to the operating room.
16
Rob
I’m almost thirty, and this is my first time in New York City. My redeye flight lands right on time and I have no trouble hailing a cab. It takes me straight to the hospital where Brekka’s having her surgery. I’d never have snagged a cab this fast at four in the morning in Atlanta. If I could even find one at all.
I pay my bill by credit card and step out to the curb. Technology amazes me these days. But the lights and sirens and bustle of people at this hour baffle me. New York certainly qualifies as the city that never sleeps. Then again, the streets in Atlanta don’t smell of fecal matter and vomit. At least, not the parts I’ve visited.
The hospital smells marginally better than the road behind it. Not as much better as I might have hoped, but it is a place sick people come for care. I imagine that brings some legitimate explanation for the lingering puke scent.
I sit in the waiting room for half an hour before Trig arrives. He puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a side hug, which I didn’t expect.
“Who would ever have believed a few months ago that you and I would be sitting in a waiting room together?” Trig asks.
I shake my head. “Certainly not me.”
“Well, I sure like you a lot better than I did back in February.”
“Your opinion really had nowhere to go but up,” I say. “If we’re being honest.”
“I didn’t like you,” he says, “but I actually started to respect you when you took my call before my Valentine’s Day grand gesture. If our positions had been reversed, I’d probably have declined the call.”
“Your curiosity would have won out,” I say.
“You think?”
I shrug. “I think we’re a lot more alike than you realize.”
Trig scratches his chin. “You might be right. Some days I wish I had a decent mom, but then I’d probably have been as big a wash up as you.”
I don’t laugh.
Trig frowns. “You know I’m kidding right? You got a little defensive about the car dealership before. I know you’re smart, and I know you do a great job running your dealerships. I even know you make a lot of money by most people’s standards.”
“Thanks.” I can’t bring myself to be more effusive. I don’t need his compliments. I know my own worth. I grab an old issue of Car and Driver and pretend to read it, flipping a little too fast to be convincing. I force myself to slow down.
“You’re nervous,” Trig says. “You’re wound up even tighter than normal.”
“No.”
“You are.” Trig knocks the magazine out of my hand. “You don’t need to be. She’s going to be fine.”
I lean toward him and my voice comes out a little rougher than I expect. “You don’t know that.”
“It’s a simple procedure, really. They disclosed the official percentages and risks, but all the people who died were a lot sicker than Brekka, and way older too. No one her age and in such great health has had a bad outcome.”
“Do you even hear yourself? No one her age has died?? I’m not just worried she’ll die.”
“Then what? What’s got you wound tighter than a trampoline spring?”
“She could have things a lot worse than she does,” I say. “A lot worse. If you’d spend even a few hours with people with disabilities, you’d know that.”
“Oh, and where would I do that? It’s not like there are clubs.”
I close my eyes. “There are clubs, Trig. They call them groups, but it’s the same thing. There are groups for people with disabilities where they can talk about how life changed, and groups for their loved ones.”
“Did your family go to those groups?”
I nod. “All three of my sisters did.”
“Geo?”
“She did in Miami, and she took me to my meetings, too.”
Trig slumps in his chair. “If you’re going to be all gloom and doom, can you sit over there?” He points to the far corner. “This side is for the Cheer Bears of the world, like Paisley.”
I pretend to clean the inside of my ear out with my finger. “I’m sorry, did you say Cheer Bear?”
“Brekka loved Care Bears. I got stuck watching it sometimes.”
“I have three sisters and I can proudly say I have no idea what any of them are called. But I assume Cheer Bear is an actual character? Your favorite, maybe?”
Trig throws a magazine at me. I snag it. Cosmopolitan. I toss it back. “I’m sorry, you must have thrown that by accident. I’m sure you want to read it, at least until you’ve looked up your horoscope, Cheer Bear.”
“Shaddup.”
“Make me.”
Trig grins. “You’re like a five-year-old kid today.”
“Maybe I am nervous.”
“You can say it,” he says.
“Say what?”
“You’re a nervous wreck, because you like her.” Trig’s pats his throat with one hand and then clears his throat. “Me me me. I think I’m ready for my solo performance. Now how does this go? It’s a classic. Oh, I remember. Rob and Brekka, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
I ought to ignore him. Or stand up and pace. Or bean him with another magazine. Instead, I feel my cheeks heat.
“Wait.” Trig grins. “She didn’t tell you that I know?”
“Know what?”
“One of her employees sent me a photo of you two in the board room.” He leans back and closes his eyes. “It was really gross to have to see the guy I hate kissing my little sister.”
I roll my eyes. “Now who’s wound up?”
“You are proving to be a decent distraction.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Twelve minutes down. Just another three hundred and eighty-five to go.”
“Wait, how long do they really think this will take?” I ask. “I thought it was a simple procedure, like an injection and nothing else.”
“Well, there are stem cell injections, but between you and me, they aren’t very effective. Dr. Anthony’s team thinks the scar cells inhibit the growth of any new cells in the spinal column. They employ the use of a scrubber to remove the scar tissue. That’s the reason their results are so much better.”
It’s also the reason their side effects and risks are worse. Trig doesn’t say that, but he doesn’t have to. I want to argue about how stupid he sounds, but I can’t sit here and bicker with him for six hours. I’ll probably end up strangling him if I do, and then no matter how the surgery goes, Brekka will never speak to me again. Which won’t matter much, since I’ll be in prison.
“You hungry?” Trig asks.
“I already ate.”
“What did you eat?” Trig asks. “Nothing’s open. So much for New York’s vaunted fanciness. Nothing in the hospital, and nothing between the hotel and here was selling food. I’ve had a Snickers bar, and that’s it. But the crappy coffee kiosk opens in ten minutes. I can grab you something. Bagel, muffin, banana, whatever you want.”
“I’m good.”
“How can you be good? What did you eat?” Trig asks. “Don’t turn me down from frustration. Hangry Rob has got to be worse than regular old cranky Rob.”
“I brought a bag full of protein bars.” I unzip the outside pocket and pull one out. “I’m happy to share. I might have over packed, honestly.”
“Are you kidding me right now? I thought you had like an amazing metabolism or something. Do you really eat that crap? Ugh. I bet you wash those blocks of chewy protein powder down with a glass full of raw eggs like Gaston.”
I can’t quite help my grin. “For someone who made fun of me for my Rainbow Dash reference, you sure seem to know your Disney princess stories.”
Trig frowns.
“And for the record, protein bars aren’t that bad.”
“They aren’t good either.”
“You’re such a foodie. I have neither the time nor the patience for that.”
Trig stands up. “Well, I’ve got news for you. You’ve got nothing but time today.”
I walk around the empty waiting room a few times. Then I drop down and do a hundred push-ups. Old habits.
“Are you secretly an alien? Because no human person just does push-ups randomly in hospitals. And PS, that floor is nasty.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re stuck here waiting. What do you care how I pass the time?”
“You just told me you’re making out with my sister, and I can’t have her dating a crazy person.”
“Doing a few pushups gets the blood flowing.”
Trig’s mouth hangs open.
“You should try it.”
“You’re odder than I thought,” Trig says. “But if I had half your energy, I might look a little more like you. I guess I should be glad Geo prefers slim guys.”
“She told you that?”
Trig scowls. “Actually, no. She never said that. Why? Did she tell you something else?”
I shake my head as quickly as I can.
“She told you I’m too skinny?” He hops to his feet.
“You know what?” I ask. “I think I’m going to go for a quick jog.”
“At six a.m.?”
I shrug. “Nothing else to do, and it’s not hot out yet.”
“You’re wearing khaki shorts and a Polo shirt.”
I lift one foot. “I’m wearing sneakers. I won’t go far enough to get sweaty and gross.”
Trig shakes his head.
Three miles later, if my Fit Bit is to be trusted, I circle back around and head for the waiting room. Trig’s typing away on his laptop.
“Everything okay?”
Trig shrugs. “I guess so. No news here.”
“So. Want to play a game or something?”
He brightens up. “Do you like chess?”
I laugh loudly. “Oh, absolutely not. Anyone who can beat Geo occasionally is far, far beyond my level. I always have to ask for a reminder of how exactly that dumb horse piece can move.”
Trig stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What kind of game were you thinking, then?”
“They have a basketball hoop outside, and there are a few local kids out there. I’m sure they’d love to school some old guys.”
“If you aren’t going to play chess, I’m sure not about to play Mr. All State at basketball.”
I smirk. “Geo told you?”
“Nice try Mr. Sneaky.”
“Well we need to think of something,” I say, “or we might kill each other before Brekka makes it to recovery.”
In the end, we find The Godfather on TV, just a few minutes into the very first one. A dozen other people filter into the room as the movie progresses, even though it’s a Saturday. Luckily, it’s a Godfather marathon. We’re nearly through the second one when a lady in a white coat approaches Trig.
He shoots to his feet, and I’m only a second behind him.
“Mr. Thornton?” she asks.
“Trig, remember?”
She nods. “Trig. Brekka’s surgery is finished.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and the doctor glances sharply my way. “Who’s this?”
Trig waves his hand through the air. “It’s her…boyfriend. Or sort of her boyfriend. It’s complicated.”
She bobs her head. “It almost always is. In any case, she’s through surgery and in recovery.”
“Can I come see her?” Trig asks.
“Not yet. People come out of anesthesia at differing speeds, depending on the type and duration of surgery. Also, everyone reacts in different ways. We’ll let you know once she’s ready to see you and her, Mr., what did you say your name was sir?”
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” I say. “And I promised her brother I’d keep it that way.”
She yawns and shakes her head. “Whatever, then. I’ll come let you both know.”
She turns to leave, but Trig touches her arm. “How did it go?”
“It’s early yet.” She doesn’t say more, but her feet shuffle and she glances at the door eagerly.
Something is wrong.
Trig’s as sharp as me. Smarter, probably, and he notices it too. “Do you have preliminary findings of any kind?”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t my responsibility. Dr. Anthony will be out to talk to you soon.”
“It didn’t go well?” Trig asks. “The surgery didn’t work?”
She licks her lips nervously. “It frequently takes several surgeries before we know whether the patient will respond to the therapy.”
“The therapy?” I ask. “Did Brekka know that?”
“We’ve had several instances where there was improvement with the first procedure,” she says.
“But?” I ask.
“But she had more scar tissue than we anticipated.”
“And?” I press.
“And our attempts to mitigate were unsuccessful. Dr. Anthony isn’t hopeful the stem cells had anything much to work with.”
Trig punches the chair and then kicks the end table.
“I’ll be back when there’s more to report.” The doc hurries off.
“Well, I’m glad you got her hopes up. I’m sure if she can’t move her legs at all, or if she can’t feel her abdomen, or if she needs an ostomy bag, she’ll feel it was well worth it for the unproven chance of possible improvement that’s more like a Star Trek show than actual science.”
Trig sits down and puts both his hands in his hair. “You heard her. They frequently need several tries before there’s improvement. She has a lot of scar tissue. A few more rounds and they’ll make better progress.”
I clench my hands into fists. Several attempts? Brekka will be risking her life, not to mention her quality of life, every single time. “You may be the single most selfish person I’ve ever met.”
“Excuse me?” Trig leaps to his feet. People around us shift and a few of them move to the other side of the waiting room, darting glances back at us worriedly.
“You heard me. You feel guilty for being the driver when this happened. You feel guilty for not making her buckle her seatbelt, and I get that. It’s not your fault, but you think it is. It’s time now for you to put on your big boy pants and let that go. Because if you don’t.” I pause. I should quit talking right now. I’m too upset for this to be helpful. But one look at Trig’s jaw convinces me he’ll never let this go. “Will you really kill your sister, just to assuage your own guilt?”
Trig grabs my collar. “Say that again, I dare you.”
“I don’t have to repeat it. You know it’s true or you’d already have thrown me against that wall.”
Trig lets me go and picks up his phone. “I don’t need to do a thing to you. You’re nothing to Brekka and me. Listening to you rant is a waste of my time. But for the record, I’m already looking at the next open dates on Dr. Anthony’s schedule. I finance the entire study, so I can check the protocol to see how long we have to wait, and then drop her into any open slot.”
“You can’t possibly be ethically allowed—”
Trig’s face brightens and his eyes darken. “Allowed? You think I care about what’s allowed? For the first time ever, my sister’s fighting. She wants to fix her back so she can move on with her life. She hit pause the day of that accident and she hasn’t ever resumed. She wants to repair this, and I will move heaven and earth to help her. I’d never give up after one single procedure, because I don’t run from things that are hard. Now I know why you didn’t want her to know you’re here. Because you’re not in this for the long haul, for better or worse.”
I suddenly reali
ze what’s been bothering me. He treats Brekka like she’s broken, and what’s worse, she believes him. She thinks she needs to be fixed, in part because everyone acts like she’s not okay exactly as she is.
My fist connects with Trig’s cheek before I have time to think my anger through. Luckily, I pull back at the last moment and my fist doesn’t break his skull or even his nose. Geo would probably never have spoken to me again if I’d permanently damaged his pretty little face.
Trig flies back against the wall from the force of the blow, blood spewing from his aristocratic nostrils.
I bend over him ominously. “I didn’t break anything that won’t mend. But if you ever imply to me or anyone else, but most especially to your sister, that she’s broken, or less than, or lacking in any way, I will rectify my mistake. Your sister is beautiful, and she is magnificent, and she is fierce. She may be fragile, but that’s only because of her fear. And I’m not talking about her rational and logical and natural fear of signing up to do more surgeries that will only leave her with additional loss to process.”
Trig moans.
I hope he can hear and recall what I’m saying. “Hear me when I say this, Trig. Brekka can’t fix her back now, and she doesn’t need to. That’s not what’s holding her back.”
His eyes flash and I know he’s paying attention. He wads the bottom of his shirt up and presses it against his nose to stop the bleeding.
“The fear that’s eroding Brekka’s bravery, sapping her strength, and leaving her as unsure as an adolescent is that she’s not enough anymore. That fragility will eventually fade away and reveal the iron underneath, but not if you keep telling her through your words and your actions that she really isn’t enough. It’s time for her to face who she is now and accept it.”
I storm out of the waiting room before Trig says something else and I end up getting arrested for assault.
17
Brekka
My eyes flutter open, but the room beyond my nose is blurry. When I close them again, I find that I can focus on the world around me better without trying to see it. Machines beep behind me, people murmur, and something whirs. My back has been stabbed with a hot poker. The throbbing, oh, the throbbing. I shift my shoulders and it worsens.
