Someone Always Loved You

by Brooke Williams

  “Mr. James, if you’ll just calm down, I’ll get the doctor right now. We’ll get you some answers, okay?” an unfamiliar nurse soothed.

  “I just want to know what’s going on. All she does is lay there, and no one will tell me what’s wrong with her! She looks fine! When is she going to wake up? Is she going to be all right even if she does?”

  Clearly agitated, the nurse rushed from the room, nearly steamrolling over Jay as he side stepped her path. Taking baby steps closer to the room, Jay stalled, and before he knew it, the nurse was on her way back down the hall, Dr. Rodriguez in tow.

  “He’s so upset, Doctor, and the way he’s ranting he might just give himself another heart attack right here in this hospital if we don’t calm him down,” the nurse explained rapidly.

  “Don’t worry about a thing. Go back to your post. I think it’s time Mr. James and I had a chat,” Dr. Rodriguez ordered as he looked right through Jay lurking in the hall.

  Jay wasn’t accustomed to eavesdropping, at least not on purpose. He really couldn’t hear well once the doctor dragged the door most of the way closed behind him, but he had to know what was happening. The conversation was obviously about Jordan, and though he knew he had no rights where she was concerned, Jay did have a vested interest.

  “Doctor!” he heard Cory cry upon seeing the white jacket rustle into the room.

  “Mr. James, you just lay right back down on that bed. I will not take ‘No’ for an answer! Do you hear me? You have a very serious heart condition. You will recover and be just fine but only if you do exactly as we tell you.”

  A few moments went by, and Jay could hear nothing. He didn’t know if they were speaking quietly or simply staring at each other, willing the other to fold.

  “Now, Cory,” he finally heard the doctor begin, “I understand you have many questions, and you have every right to the answers. I will tell you all that I know, but you have to put yourself first. You will be no good to your wife if we have to put you through more surgery. The faster you recover, the sooner you can be by her side every second. That is the absolute best thing you can do for her.”

  Silence. Either Cory was responding in a whisper or perhaps just acquiescing by motion.

  “You wife sustained some very serious injuries,” Doctor Rodriguez continued. Outwardly, she didn’t come out too badly. She has plenty of bumps and bruises and a couple of contusions. Her internal damage is causing all of the problems. I’m not talking about the broken ribs or the fractured wrist. After the collision, she hit the concrete full force, taking the brunt of the fall directly to her skull.”

  A pause again. Jay thought he heard crying.

  “If at any time you want me to stop, Cory, just say the word. Your knowledge of the details will not help her recovery.”

  “No!” Cory said resolutely. Then softly, he whispered, “Continue.”

  Dr. Rodriguez hesitated and drew in a breath, “The impact seems to have caused a major concussion. The driver who struck your wife was one of our own and acted quickly and efficiently. Honestly, Mr. James, if he had not gotten that oxygen mask on her immediately, she may not have made it inside the hospital.”

  Jay shifted from foot to foot. How dare this doctor praise him for saving her life when he was the one who had nearly taken it?

  “She was brought inside and stabilized immediately. We did a CAT scan and have been monitoring her vitals. The brain waves are significant, and we don’t see any permanent damage done.”

  Jay sighed in relief in the hall in unison with Cory inside his room.

  “But, Mr. James, the body has a strange way of protecting itself, and somewhere during the trauma your wife slipped into a coma.”

  The silence this time was so long that Jay almost dared to open the door to be sure they were still there. Cory had to have some idea. He had visited her several times and found her unresponsive. He had to know she wasn’t simply sleeping this whole time.

  “I understand all of this,” Cory began, breaking the silence, “but how do we make her better? How do we wake her up?”

  “That’s where she steps in,” Doctor Rodriguez stated. “The only thing that can pull her through this now is her will to live. We’ll keep an eye on her pulse and brain waves, but she really needs to bring herself out of the coma so we can assess her status more fully. The sooner, the better, Mr. James. I’ll be honest.”

  “Can…can she hear me?” Cory stuttered, trying to hold himself together in front of the esteemed professional.

  “I can’t really say, Cory. I like to think that she can. What do you say we ask her when she wakes up, okay?”

  Jay softly beat his fist against the rough wall when he heard the scrape of a chair being pulled back. He quickly ducked in a nearby doorway as Dr. Rodriguez exited Cory James’ room and briskly made a few marks on his clip board while striding purposefully down the hall.

  Jay hadn’t heard anything new. He knew his way around this hospital, and he knew all of the technical terms, though just now Dr. Rodriguez had spoken very plainly. It was more the muffled reactions he had heard from Cory that bothered him. Jay had spent the last two weeks by Jordan’s side. It was bad enough knowing how much the accident had affected her, but seeing it directly affect others deepened his self-hatred. It was easier to pretend that he was the only one that cared for her. This trite illusion shattered, Jay felt the small portion of himself he had held together quickly melt.

  Sinking to the floor in the doorway of the empty room, Jay folded his arms over his knees and lowered his forehead.

  * * * *

  Nurse Ester found him there after the night nurse bragged about the handsome gentleman she had seen early that morning. “He even nodded at me!” she exclaimed girlishly, describing the bounce of his curls and the butt of his jeans all in one breathe.

  Ester left her with an orderly who was just starting his shift. That girl thought every man who walked in the front door was trying to come onto her, even the gun shot victims and lunatics.

  Nurse Ester heaved a sigh beneath her broad shoulders when she came across the distraught Jay in the doorway, and she knelt in front of him, placing her hand atop his head.

  “Honey,” she said as sweetly as her gruff voice allowed, “I hear the cook is trying a new French toast recipe in the cafeteria. How about joining me? I deserve a break about now.”

  Raising his head, Jay’s torn eyes looked into hers. The sparkle immediately left her face as she read the remorse and self-loathing in him. Nurse Ester grabbed his hand to pull Jay to his feet. In the last two weeks, she had noticed his pants sag in a new way on his limbs, and if there was one thing Ester knew how to do, it was eat. Food certainly wouldn’t hurt him, even if it didn’t make him feel much better.

  “But, Nurse Ester, your shift just started,” Jay protested.

  Damn, she thought, this kid knows the hospital too well. Placing a hand on her hip menacingly, she peered at him over her glasses, “And?” she asked.

  “And nothing, Ma’am, I’m sure you deserve that break. Let’s go.”

  Breakfast didn’t exactly improve his mood, but Jay’s head did feel a little clearer. He had to admit that seeing someone enjoy life as Ester did, especially the part involving French toast, gave him a glimmer of hope. Maybe someday he could have that zeal again. He would have to cling to that small shred of hope if he was ever going to get through this ordeal.

  CHAPTER 8

  The clock ticked quietly across the room as Madison finally stirred in bed, groaning at the prospect of rising. She blindly groped the sheets next to her. Empty. Jay was gone as usual. As soon as she found out about her pregnancy she vowed to work as much as she safely could and save earnestly so when they baby came, she could spend as extra time with the little one. This meant spending her hours outside of teaching at the toddler day care down the street. She thought that taking care of children was good practice anyway.

  Resigning herself to the extra fatigue that went hand in hand with p
regnancy, Madison made sure she had at least one full day a week to herself to rest and catch up on errands and apartment chores. Today was that day, and she had looked forward to spending it with Jay. She should have known better.

  Squinting as she raised her head, Madison gazed over at the curtains, threadbare but trying their best to keep out the light. She could tell it was a bright, sunny day, and she vowed to get as much fresh air as possible as she dragged herself from the bed.

  Madison threw on the only pair of jeans that still fit and a frumpy over-sized sweatshirt and scowled at her reflection in the chipped bathroom mirror. She splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth, resigning herself to wearing a baseball cap to cover her disheveled hair. She headed out the door for the park after slipping on her stretched out sneakers and grabbing her keys.

  Their apartment was in the middle of the city, but the government had planned well and saved room for a small park nearby. Madison thought it almost smelled like rain despite the lack of a single cloud in the bright blue sky. Goosebumps rose on her arms and legs from the warmth of the sun, improving her mood but not replacing her somber thoughts.

  She had only seen Jay like this one other time, right before she almost lost him for good. The first time she saw him drunk she almost didn’t believe her eyes. Madison had always had an aversion to the smell of alcohol. Just walking by a bar in the evening or catching a whiff of a drinker’s breath was enough to send her into quivering revulsion. When Jay stumbled through their door four hours after she expected to hear from him, she took in his misshapen form with cold eyes.

  He was slovenly slurring every third word. She didn’t even care what he looked like or how he spoke. The smell sent Madison racing into their bedroom. She barricaded herself in by pushing their small dresser under the knob of the door. Madison threw balled up socks and a handful of underwear into her suitcase while her eyes raced around the room, looking for other things to pack. The banging on the door began almost as soon as she had secured it with the dresser. It didn’t matter what had driven him to this state. He knew the simple smell of the poisonous drink frightened her. He knew her fear but made the decision to pour the drinks down his throat anyway. Her shirts banged from their hangers with her rough pull. Finding the suitcase already stuffed, she threw her extra pair of jeans over her shoulder.

  Shoving the waist high dresser back into place, she flew from the bedroom, racing toward the door that led to the street.

  “Maddy,” he drawled, sensing the danger in her slight presence, “where ya going, Baby?”

  She didn’t grace him with an answer or even a look as she pushed past him. If he didn’t care enough about her to steer clear of alcohol, she didn’t care enough about him to listen to excuses. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to his words, even though she could hear the anticipation rising in his voice as he noticed her luggage.

  On the street at last, Madison dashed away from the apartment, wiping her face with the back of her hand only to have her small diamond scrape her cheek. This had to be the worst night of her life, but she knew if she stayed it would have gotten worse. She’d happened upon alcohol enough times to know how it affected her. When she first noticed its stench, her hands would go ice cold, and her face would turn hotter than an oven. Then she would begin to quiver slightly enough that only she would notice at first. It began with a slight tremor in her knees as if she were nervous over public speaking. The shaking would move up her body and move through her to the very tips of her fingers and into her organs until her heart was beating so fast she felt it would explode.

  Madison tried to shake her fear as she hastily threw her belongings into the back seat of their beat up old car. Jay shouldn’t drive in his state, so she didn’t feel guilty for depriving him of transportation. She plunged into the driver’s seat and let the vibration of the engine lull her nerves. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the memory that began her complete fright.

  * * * *

  The ten-year-old Madison had long silvery blonde hair that always looked in need of a comb. Her shorts were covered in dust, and her shirt had seen better days, but her smile always shined as bright as the hot summer sun. She had helped her mother in their garden all morning. She was an expert at digging just the right sized holes when they planted new flowers in the spring. Now Madison was learning what green leafy items were weeds and how to pull them so they wouldn’t return.

  After a picnic lunch on the porch and a tall glass of lemonade, Madison’s bicycle caught her eye. She had learned how to ride at a later age than all of her friends and now that she finally could, it was hard to get her to do anything else. Madison’s mother noticed the familiar gleam in her daughter’s eye and dug through her pocket for some change.

  “Why don’t you ride over to the gas station and get a cherry Popsicle,” her mom suggested. Cherry was Madison’s favorite flavor. She could no more pass up a Popsicle then she could an opportunity to ride her bike.

  “Okay!” Madison agreed wholeheartedly as she gleefully accepted the change. Madison thrust the coins into her own pocket and skipped to her pride and joy. The bicycle certainly wasn’t anything pretty--at least not to anyone but Madison. It was an odd brilliant blue color combined with orange rust from the scratches and dents accumulated over years of hard use. The long banana seat harbored red, white, and blue stripes. All of its features clashed with the large white basket with three yellowed plastic flowers which hung from the handle bars. Madison had never owned a brand new bike, and she had never wanted one. As she rang the rusty old bell on her curved handle bars as she picked up speed, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world. She knew she didn’t have to have the newest bike to have the best bike.

  Madison rose from the banana seat and pumped her legs harder and faster against the pedals until she could hear nothing but the wind. Squinting her eyes and throwing some of her stringy hair behind her, she set her sights on her destination. The convenience store was only half a mile from their house, and Madison rode there often with her friends and on her own. Her mother often took advantage of the odd-looking basket attached to Madison’s bicycle and sent her daughter for a carton of milk or a loaf of bread. But today’s trip was all about that cherry Popsicle.

  Excited upon her arrival, Madison propped her bike against the brick building near the front window so she could see it from inside. Skipping to the door, she abruptly pushed it with the palm of her hand to tinkle the attached cow bell. The chilling air conditioning hit Madison square in the face as she tried to brush her nuisance hair behind her ears. The attendant glanced at Madison with a quick, familiar smile. Everyone who worked there knew Madison and her interesting transportation.

  Madison strode purposefully to the counter and shuffled through lint, marbles, and paper scraps in her pocket to reveal the change. Slapping the right amount on the counter as she has seen many kids do over the years, she pronounced, “A cherry Popsicle, please!” and waited expectantly. The attendant slowly counted the change, much to Madison’s dismay, before he turned and opened the freezer to extract the sugary treat. She could hear the hum of the freezer as the cold air rushed from it. She heard the cow bell behind her as she reached for her long-awaited reward, her mouth watering.

  Without moving from the counter, Madison quickly unwrapped the Popsicle, sticking it directly into her mouth and beginning what would surely be a sticky session. Satisfied that the Popsicle was just what she wanted, she nodded her thanks to the wide-eyed attendant. Madison turned with a shrug and, concentrating on licking the cherry drips, and ran into the customer behind her. She wrinkled her nose as his overwhelming stench took over her nostrils.

  Her eyes slowly traveled from his overabundant waist up to his face. Madison let the Popsicle slide from her hand and hit the ground with a soft squish. It was one of the hottest days of the year, but the man before her was wearing a ski mask. Her intuition screaming, Madison lunged for the door, but the man was one step ahead of her. Ex
tending his long arm, over his large stomach, he grasped the strands of her long hair and yanked her back to his side.

  Madison yelped in pain and whimpered as he wrapped his arm around her neck and held her against his side. Bending toward her, he placed his lips close to her ear, “Where do you think you’re goin’ little girl?” he rasped as she cringed at the smell of alcohol permeating his breath and oozing from his pores. Pulling a short metal pistol from beneath his shirt, the man began waving it before him, shouting incoherently at the attendant. Madison’s knees quivered in fear as she wrapped her hands around the man’s heavy arm to loosen his grip.

  The attendant began shoving money over the counter one bill at a time. As the cash register drawer was being emptied, the man stooped to the floor, forcing Madison down with him to gather the bills. The attendant secretly dislodged the phone and dialed quickly for help, leaving the phone next to the cradle in hopes the operator would be able to hear what was going on.

  When the man rose, he was angry, but still incoherent. Madison was being jerked from side to side as he ranted. As he flailed back and forth in front of the counter, money flew from the waist of his pants which were already bursting from trying to hold in his belly. Madison decided that he was upset because he couldn’t keep a hold on her, the gun, and the money all at once. Choking down a sob, she clung to the thick arm across her neck and tried to breath through her mouth to avoid the smell that was suffocating her.

  Finally relenting to the situation, the man released Madison, tossing her against the counter, and began scooping up as many of the bills as he could. Madison heard the sirens before the masked man, and she quivered at the thought of his reaction. When all but a few bills had been gathered, he paused and tilted his head, becoming aware of what the attendant must have done. Crawling to Madison on all fours, the man stopped only when his eyes were inches from her own. “See you later, sweetheart,” he drawled. Madison coughed violently at the repugnance of his breath as he lumbered to his feet and tucked the gun back under his shirt. “And you,” he continued, pointing a fat finger at the attendant, “I’ll be back for you.” He staggered out the door and around the corner of the building just before the sirens stopped abruptly out front.