by Tiffany Snow
“See you then.” Mia ended the call.
“Your dad?” Jackson asked, sitting down beside her.
She nodded. “He’s going to come down with Uncle Bill and Grandpa.”
“I called Grams,” Jackson said. “Sent my plane to pick her up and bring her.”
“That was nice of you,” she said glumly, plucking at the edge of her blouse. “She’ll like having Grams here.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m better than my aunt,” she replied, then looked up at him. “It’s your fault, you know. She was in your car. This guy is after you. Not her. You’re the reason she’s in there, the reason they’re drilling into her brain.” The bitterness in her voice was apparent.
Jackson took a moment to reply. “I know. No one knows better than I do that she wouldn’t be in here if it wasn’t for me.”
“Then why are you lying to her?” Mia persisted. “Why don’t you just tell her what you know about this whole thing? What if you’re putting her in more danger by withholding information from her?”
“It’s not something I can just blurt out, Mia. And I’d hope you know that if I’m not talking, maybe there’s a good reason as to why.” He stood. “I’m going to go check on the flight arrangements.” He walked away without another word.
Mia felt bad about being so hard on Jackson, but she was hurting, and too worried about her aunt to care if she’d hurt his feelings.
Getting to her feet, she started pacing again. After she grew tired of the same part of the hallway, she drew closer to the waiting room. At least there were televisions there. Maybe she could distract herself from worrying.
Her gaze landed on Clark, sitting in a dim corner. His elbows were braced on his spread knees, and his hands were linked as he hunched over, staring at the floor.
Mia dropped into the chair next to him. They said nothing for a while, just sat there together.
“My brother is coming,” she said after a while. “He’s bringing my uncle and grandpa. They should be here by morning.”
Clark glanced up, one dark eyebrow cocked as he listened. “Well, this should be an easy situation to explain,” he deadpanned. “What’d you tell him?”
Mia shrugged. “Just that there was a car accident and that she’s got that subdural thing. That she’s in surgery. That’s all.”
“And I’m guessing no one in your family really knows what China was doing for a living.”
“I don’t even know what she does for a living,” Mia replied. “She said it was secret and she couldn’t tell me. Just something with computers.”
“That’s the most people can comprehend of her job anyway,” Clark muttered.
“How long is this surgery supposed to take?” she asked.
“About an hour. Then about another hour for the anesthesia to wear off. The doctor said he’d be out to let us know how the surgery went.”
“How long has it been?”
“Thirty-seven minutes.”
The minutes crawled by. Jackson returned, taking the seat next to Mia.
“Grams is on her way,” he said. His eyes were bloodshot and he barely glanced at them.
A pang inside made Mia reach over and take his hand. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “I was just . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I know.” He squeezed her hand.
More minutes went by. The hour came and went. Mia started chewing her nails again until Clark reached over and took her other hand.
These were the two men who’d worked their way into her aunt’s life and heart. They were both good guys, and it seemed like they each gave her something she needed. Mia didn’t know how things would end up. She just wanted Aunt Chi to be happy.
If she ever got out of surgery.
“How long—” she began, but Jackson interrupted.
“Here he comes.”
All three of them got to their feet. “How is she?” Mia blurted. Both her hands were crushing Jackson’s and Clark’s.
Dr. Morris smiled. “Relax, please, she’s fine.”
Mia released her breath on a gasp, tears welling in her eyes. Her knees gave out and she sat back down.
“China did very well in the surgery, and the artery was repaired. The brain wasn’t swollen, so that’s good news, and will speed her recovery.”
“Can we see her?” Jackson asked.
“Not yet. The anesthesia still needs to wear off, and she’ll be moved into the ICU. Right now, she’s in recovery. If everything looks good by morning, we can move her into a regular room.”
Jackson put his arm around Mia’s shoulders. She was crying into her hands.
“What about the complications you mentioned?” Jackson asked. “When will we know about them?”
“We’ll perform some tests tomorrow,” he answered. “Considering how well the surgery went, I am cautiously optimistic that she won’t suffer any serious side effects or complications.
“The nurse will be out once China comes around,” he continued. “You can each go in and see her, just for a few minutes. She’s on a lot of medication, so she may or may not be lucid. Maybe won’t even remember tonight at all, come tomorrow. But I think it’ll make you all feel better to see that she’s all right.”
Mia took a shuddering breath as the doctor’s footsteps faded away. She swiped at her wet cheeks. Jackson rubbed her shoulder lightly as he sat back down.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “It was such a relief. It . . . took me by surprise. I guess I’d been preparing for different news.” Her throat thickened again and she had to clear her throat.
Jackson pushed his fingers through his hair, letting out a deep sigh. “I think we all were preparing for different news.”
“C’mon,” Clark said to Mia, getting to his feet. “I could use a cup of coffee, and so could you.”
Mia nodded and rose, then glanced from Clark to Jackson and back again.
Clark rolled his eyes. “Fine. Coop can come, too.”
“Gee, thanks for including me in the cool kids’ club,” Jackson said wryly.
“It’s a truce right now, you two,” Mia interjected. “Cease-fire.”
Which meant all three of them were in the nearly empty cafeteria, sitting at a table, drinking bad hospital coffee. Mia took one sip of her cream-and-sugar-with-some-added-coffee, wrinkled her nose, and set it aside.
Jackson and Clark drank theirs without comment. The minutes crept by until Mia couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“So, Clark,” she said, “what, um . . . what have you been up to these past few months?”
“I’ve been around. Doing a few odds and ends, here and there,” he answered, taking another drink of his coffee.
“Vague much?” Mia muttered. “Okay, then. Jackson, how about you? Have you told your parents about your engagement to my aunt?”
“They live in Florida and are retired. They live separately, keep a low profile, play bridge and golf, and occasionally remember they have a son. Usually about the time the bills roll in. So, no, I haven’t mentioned my life choices to them recently.”
“Should I call Dr. Phil?” Clark asked.
“If anyone’s got issues that need a shrink, it’s you,” Jackson retorted.
“Says the control freak to someone he can’t control.”
“I’m not the one trying to fuck with China’s head.”
“Enough!” Mia threw out her hands, shutting them both up. “I was just trying to make conversation, okay? Geez, no wonder you two stress her out.”
“Who says we stress her out?” Clark asked.
“Anyone with eyes,” Mia retorted. “You two are going to have to figure this out. Because she isn’t a bone to be fought over. She needs you both, just in different ways. Surely you see that.”
Both men were silent.
“Listen,” Mia said. “I love my aunt. But you’ve gotta understand that emotions and going with your gut are foreign concepts to her
. She’s much more likely to make a pros-and-cons list for each of you and decide based on that.”
“There are worse ways,” Clark muttered.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to advocate that approach,” Jackson said. “I don’t think you’d like the result.”
“You mean the fact that I don’t require her to fit into my world, ready to say the vows and start popping out little Einsteins before she’s thirty?” Clark bit out. “Have you even asked her what she wants?”
“At least I have something to offer her other than being on the run from my past,” Jackson retorted. “A normal life with a family. You wouldn’t recognize that if it bit you on the ass. You don’t understand her in the slightest, someone of her genius.”
“And you do?” Clark shot back. “You treat her like a science project.”
“And you treat her like a trophy.”
Mia shoved her chair back, the legs scraping against the linoleum floor with a sound that set her teeth on edge. “You’re both douches,” she said. “If I were her, I’d tell you both to bugger off.”
“What are you? British?” Clark called after her.
“I’ve yet to find an American phrase that has the same level of insult and apathy as that one,” she tossed back.
When Mia returned to the waiting room, she found a nurse looking for her.
“Your aunt has woken,” she said. “Do you want to see her for a few minutes?”
“Oh yes, please!”
“Just keep in mind, she’s going to be very groggy. She probably won’t say much. And it’s doubtful she’ll remember anything tomorrow. Okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
Mia followed the nurse through two sets of double doors, one of which required her ID to unlock, then they were in the ICU. They passed curtained-off patient areas, and the smell of disinfectant was strong.
They stopped at a room, and the nurse held the door for Mia to enter ahead of her. Mia took three steps and stopped.
China was barely discernible in the bed. She was hooked up to so many machines, and her head was wrapped in bandages . . . the sight of her was shocking. She was small anyway, but now seemed dwarfed in the bed, and she wasn’t moving.
“You don’t have to get closer,” the nurse said kindly. “I know it’s hard seeing her like that, but she’s going to be okay. We just need to monitor her and make sure she stays healthy.”
“Um, okay. Thanks.” Mia cast one last look at the bed, turned, and left. She made it to the waiting room, saw Jackson, and promptly burst into tears.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.” Jackson put his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug.
Mia cried harder. “I s-saw her,” she stammered through her tears. “Sh-she looked s-so . . .”
“It’s okay. She’s going to be okay,” he soothed. “I know it looks bad now, but the doctor said everything went well. In a couple of days, you won’t even be able to tell your aunt had brain surgery.”
“I know they said that,” she said, sniffling. Her tears had slowed to a trickle.
“It’s just relief, what you’re feeling,” Jackson said, giving her another squeeze. “The cathartic release provided by crying is actually very healthy.”
Mia’s laugh was a little watery. “Now you sound like Aunt Chi.”
Jackson smiled. “She must be rubbing off on me.”
“All right, maybe you’re not a total douche,” she said.
“High praise, indeed,” he said. “Now I’m going to go peek in on her, okay? You stay here. I’ll be back.”
Mia moved away. “Wait—where’s Clark?”
Jackson shrugged. “I’m not his keeper.”
I’d lost time, but not in the unconscious way of before. Then, I’d sensed time passing. But this was a drug-induced lost time, so it felt very different and unnatural. One second I’d been staring up at the bright lights of the OR, people bustling around me, and the next second I was opening my eyes someplace else, with the realization that it was already over.
“You’re in recovery,” someone said, then I saw the face as a woman leaned over me. She was wearing scrubs with a print of Hello Kitty on it. That meant something to me, but I couldn’t remember what. “Everything went really well. The doctor said he couldn’t have planned it any better.”
My mouth felt like cotton and everything was fuzzy. I wasn’t in any pain, but neither could I summon the energy to move. Blinking required effort.
“You’ll be groggy for a while as the anesthesia wears off, but the pain medication will still make you feel sleepy,” she continued. “I can get you something to drink shortly. That’ll make you feel better, I’m sure.”
“M’kay,” I mumbled.
I closed my eyes again and listened to the sounds of the nurse working in the room, checking the machines and my vitals. The blood-pressure cuff tightened again, then slowly released. I heard the door open and close as she left.
I drifted in and out of sleep, which felt better than just being unconscious. I thought I heard the door open again and the sound of muffled voices, but they retreated. and silence fell.
A few minutes later, or perhaps it was longer, the door opened and footsteps approached the bed. I cracked my eyes open again and saw someone. As they moved closer to the bed, my vision cleared and I saw Jackson’s face.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I rasped. “Sore.”
“You’ll feel better tomorrow. Right now, you just need to get your rest, okay?”
“Is my brain okay?” I managed. That was what I was worrying about the most.
“Of course it is.”
“H-how can you tell?”
“Because I know you wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled and leaned down, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Now rest. Your Grams will be here in the morning.”
I smiled at the thought of seeing my grandma. She could always make me feel better. “Thank you. What about Mia? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I’m going to take her back to the hotel and make her get some sleep.”
“That’s good.” I slowly blinked. “Glad you’re taking care of her.”
“Don’t worry about anything,” he said. “Just get some rest.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes and then didn’t open them for a while. When I did, Jackson was gone.
I felt a little more lucid this time. The visit from Jackson was vague, like a dream, but I remembered he was going to take care of Mia and was bringing Grams to me. Both things eased my mind. Speaking of which . . .
How did I know if I had memory problems? How would I know what I couldn’t remember? What about my intellect? Again, how would I know if my brain was damaged if I didn’t know what I didn’t know?
I stared at the ceiling, anxiety growing inside, until the door opened and someone came in. I assumed it was the nurse and waited until she got closer.
“Clark,” I said in surprise. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t be,” he said, pulling a chair up next to the bed. “I hear you did great.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” I replied. “The doctor and the nurses are responsible for the results of the surgery. Complimenting me is . . . redundant. Not to mention preemptive. We don’t know if I have any complications, most importantly, brain damage.”
“Given that little speech, I’m gonna lay odds that your brain is just fine, Mack.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
He leaned over and folded his arms on the edge of the bed, then rested his chin on them. “I know you, and that’s all I need.”
I smiled. It was a sweet and completely illogical thing to say, yet I didn’t mind.
“So it looks like you’re going to be watching a season of Star Trek,” I reminded him.
He winced. “That I was hoping you wouldn’t remember.”
The machine next to me made a
slight noise, and I glanced at it.
Clark jerked upright. “What’s that? Are you okay?” I could hear the anxiousness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said. “Pain meds, on a timer.” I narrowed my eyes, studying Clark. “You’re projecting an attitude of ease, but your reaction to the machine shows that you’re much more on edge than it would seem.”
Clark didn’t respond right away, his eyes on mine. His gaze went to my bandaged head, then slowly moved to the tubes attached to my arm and the machines at my bedside.
“I might be projecting an air of . . . ease, as you put it. But, that doesn’t mean I’m taking this lightly.”
“Then how are you taking it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, just reached out and took my hand in his. Pressing my palm against his cheek, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.
I didn’t say anything. His jaw was rough against my skin. He hadn’t shaved. They’d all been here for hours, waiting to see if I was okay.
He opened his eyes, his gaze piercing as it met mine. “How am I taking it?” he echoed. “How do you think I’m taking it?” His voice was rough and painful to hear.
The look in his eyes made me hurt in my chest. “I don’t know,” I said softly. I brushed my thumb across his cheekbone. “This is hard.”
“As usual, you have a knack for understatement.”
He got to his feet and pushed away the chair. “You need sleep,” he said, pressing his lips to the center of my palm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wait, Clark,” I said. “What if . . . what if something does go wrong with my brain? And I don’t know it. Will you tell me?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you.”
“Promise?” I didn’t want to be wandering around thinking I was the same as before when really it was like A Beautiful Mind and everyone knew I was crazy, except me.
“Yes. I promise. Now get some rest.” He leaned down and I expected him to kiss my forehead or my cheek, but his lips grazed mine in the lightest of touches. Then he was gone.
I was too tired to dwell on my visitors tonight, and the pain medication was kicking in. Before I could buzz the nurse to ask for more Sprite, I was asleep.
