“I can’t, but thanks for the invite. Stephanie’s been babysitting all day and I have to get home. We’ll make it some other time.”
We parted ways in the parking lot. When I arrived home, I was exhausted. I needed to go to bed. I’d given my home number to the nursing staff, knowing they’d keep me updated on Edward’s condition. I could go to sleep knowing he was in good hands. If he took a turn for the worse, I’d be there in a few minutes.
Chapter 52
The next morning I phoned the hospital to see how Edward was doing. Nothing had changed. They were planning to operate to remove those bullet fragments that could potentially move and hit vital organs. Other bits and pieces could be taken out at a later date. They were scheduled to operate that afternoon, and the nurse promised to phone me as soon as he came out of surgery. I couldn’t bring Jessica with me and Stephanie couldn’t babysit. She’d be in classes most of the day and had tests she was studying for.
I planned to go about my normal routine and carried my cell phone with me whenever I left the house. I decided to take Jessica in the stroller I’d purchased and jog along the beach front. I needed to exercise if I wanted to keep healthy and stress-free. The only way I’d make it through this most recent trauma would be to ramp up those endorphins while exercising, and keep a positive attitude as Cecilia suggested.
When I returned, I put Jess down for a nap and decided I could use one too. I was exhausted, having slept fitfully throughout the night. Obviously the mental stress was affecting my body. I tried to think positively, believing Edward would make it through surgery and wake up from the coma.
The insistent ringing of the phone woke me and I noticed the clock read 4:15 p.m. I’d slept for three hours! The house was so quiet and I’d been tired after my morning run. I fumbled for the handset next to the bed.
“This is Hannah Greathouse from Alameda Hospital. Is this Brandy Chambers?”
“This is she. I remember you, Hannah. We spoke in the ICU.”
“Dr. McBride asked me to phone you. Mr. Barnes’s surgery went reasonably well. They were able to remove several of the bullet fragments, however he’s still in a coma. You’re aware the first seventy-two hours are the most critical.”
“Yes, I am. Dr. McBride told me if he doesn’t wake up within that time frame, the prognosis for a full recovery lessens considerably. It’s been twenty-four hours since he was shot.”
“Yes, it has. I just wanted to keep you apprised of the situation.”
“I’ll be there soon.” I slowly replaced the phone on its base, and stared fixedly at the wall.
Thirty-six hours to go.
Stephanie said she’d come over for an hour between classes while Jessica was napping. I planned to visit Edward during that time—a routine I hoped would not continue for long.
When I’d explained my situation to the doctor, she said she’d allow me to see him for an hour if I stayed quietly by his bedside. I guessed she felt sorry for me and was willing to bend the rules a bit. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.
When I arrived at the hospital at five o’clock, the head nurse at the ICU said she had news concerning Edward’s living trust. They’d finally contacted the lawyer Edward had retained who was on vacation. A month ago Edward had made a change, designating me the person in charge of medical decisions for him in the event he was incapable of doing so. I was sickeningly surprised.
In my gut, I didn’t want the responsibility. If his condition worsened, I would have to decide whether or not to pull him off life support and I didn’t want to be put in that position.
I left feeling more depressed than before. Of course I wanted Edward to come out of the coma and one day be his old self again. But if his condition took a turn for the worse, which the doctors had explained was statistically probable, I didn’t want to be the one to decide to let him die. Now my hope for his recovery was coupled with my wish not to have to ever make a decision about his life.
That evening I sat in the front room trying my best to relax for a moment when Cecilia called.
“Hi, Brandy. Any change in Edward’s condition?”
“None. If he shows no signs of improvement within the next twenty-four hours, the chance for even a partial recovery are pretty slim.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Plus, I just found out he put me in charge of making medical decisions for him if he’s incapable of doing so.” The tears started again and my voice quivered, “My God, Cecilia, I don’t want to be the one to tell them to pull the plug!”
“Brandy, listen to me,” she said firmly. “There is absolutely no reason to anticipate the worst case scenario. Not right now. You’re anxious enough dealing with the situation as it is. You don’t need to think about the ‘what ifs’.”
I tried to stem the tears, but was so overwhelmed and depressed I could hardly talk. “I want to believe he’ll get better. You know I hope that’ll happen. But the doctor said—”
“Stop this,” she interrupted. “You and I both know, no matter what the statistics say and what the doctors predict, that does not mean that’s what will happen to Edward. There are hundreds of cases where the pros gave a person little or no chance of living more than a few months, or living through an illness or some kind of awful injury. And the next thing you know the person’s walking around, talking about the latest Giants game, and eating at Burger King.”
She made me laugh, and the sound was like music to my ears. “Okay. I agree with you. I guess I just needed a pep talk.”
She sighed. “Look. I know this is an impossible situation to deal with. No one can tell you what’s up because they just don’t know. So why go down the path of the worst case scenario. Try walking down the other road—the road where you see Edward hopping out of that damn hospital bed with that shit-eating grin on his face, his booty hanging out of the back of his hospital gown. And smile, Brandy. Visit him with a grin on your face, not a frown. What have you got to lose? And you might have a whole lot to gain if your positive attitude makes a difference to him.”
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Cece.”
“And I can say the same about you, Bran. Now I’ve got to feed Amylynn. Keep your chin up.”
Seventy-two hours and Edward was still in a coma.
Hours turned into days, then a week, and still no change. Dr. McBride explained to me that after two weeks, if his condition stabilized and he could breathe on his own, they’d have to move him to a care facility—where he’d stay until he came out of the coma at which time they would assess whether he’d need rehabilitation therapy.
If he remained in a coma, he’d likely never regain consciousness. Listening to Dr. McBride say those words gave me goose bumps, imagining Edward in a convalescent home in a coma until he died.
The worst part was, no one could predict what would happen. He’d already been pulled off life support and was breathing on his own. And visiting him was difficult. Ironically, he looked completely normal and his coloring appeared natural. But he never moved. He looked like a handsome prince, lying so still and serene.
If he awakened, the doctors didn’t know if he’d ever move his limbs again. Each day a therapist exercised his arms and legs to maintain blood flow, moving him from side to side to keep bed sores from forming. During my hour visit, I would tell him what I’d done that day, sometimes I’d read him the newspaper headlines. I’d tell him how much I loved him, beg him to wake up, try to open his eyes. Each day he never twitched, moved, or opened his eyes to indicate he’d heard my voice or felt me holding his hand and kissing his lips.
Unfortunately, the nearest facility with an opening for a patient needing the level of care Edward required was located in Pleasanton—a good thirty-five minutes away with no traffic. I had assumed he’d be in a facility much closer, perhaps in Alameda, and this new twist in his future felt like a knife in my chest.
If I wasn’t allowed to bring Jessica, and Stephanie was busy with college courses, I wouldn�
�t be able to visit him as often. I already felt guilty I was neglecting him by visiting once a day, seven days a week. Relocating him to Pleasanton would drastically reduce my visits, and if Stephanie wasn’t available, I wouldn’t see him at all. And the two week deadline before moving him out of the hospital was the next day.
Stephanie babysat Jessica the following day while I drove to Alameda Hospital to fill out the paperwork for Edward’s transfer. I followed the ambulance to Pleasanton to the new facility where I filled out another set of papers for his arrival at his current home. I was so upset seeing him there I wanted to cry but held the tears in check.
The facility was pleasant looking, painted in bright colors, plants on every window sill, windows shiny, allowing in generous amounts of light. They wheeled him into the room where he would, hopefully, not be staying for long. But watching him lying there expressionless and still, I cried when I kissed him goodbye on the cheek. What if he died here and no one was sitting with him when he took his last breath?
I drove home, tears coursing down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I drove in the slow lane, not wanting to get in an accident, and when I arrived home, Stephanie took one look at me, gave me a big hug, and told me to call her if I needed anything. When I shut the door behind her, it hit me like a hammer to the chest—today was Edward’s birthday, February first. We were supposed to be standing in front of a Justice of the Peace, exchanging promises to love each other for the rest of our lives.
Chapter 53
February fifth was my birthday and all I could do was cry, recalling how it felt to leave Edward only four days ago on his birthday, abandoning him to strangers at the care facility. Jessica was still asleep when I got out of bed at my usual six a.m. I didn’t relish this quiet time.
I was more depressed now because Edward no longer resided in Alameda and his prognosis was grim. The reality of his situation, coupled with the feeling I’d abandoned him, made celebrating my birthday seem so wrong. I wished the hours would pass quickly until bedtime then I could hide in the cave of my slumber and stop thinking about him…about us.
The weight of his absence weighed me down, my body and mind falling deeper into depression. However, I couldn’t do this again. I refused to revisit the horrible place I’d been after Christine’s death, living on the edge for months afterward, neglecting myself, Weston, our relationship.
Now I had sole responsibility for Jessica, and she needed me to be the best mom I could be, every day. I couldn’t turn her care over to my husband. I had no husband. And I couldn’t let Stephanie raise my child. She was a young college student, busy with pre-med classes, not a surrogate mother.
The probability Edward would be my next husband seemed more remote with each passing day.
I took a hot aromatherapy bath and listened to the silence of the morning, washed my hair, and put on my make-up. I dressed in one of my favorite outfits—Abercrombie & Fitch pink sweats and a white ribbed t-shirt—stuck my feet into Jordan basketball shoes, sprayed Avril Lavigne cologne on my wrists, and headed downstairs to wait for Jess to wake up.
While sitting at the kitchen table looking out the window at the trees and rose bushes, sipping a latte, there was a knock on the front door. I made a mental tally of who it could not be—Cecilia would be working at home, Stephanie was studying for tests, and my neighbors would think it rude to come over at eight o’clock in the morning. I turned the door knob and could see a figure on the other side of the lace curtains covering the beveled glass. It was Weston.
“Happy birthday, Brandy.” Something was different about him. He seemed…happy.
“What are you doing here?”
“I remembered it was your birthday. I saw what happened to Edward on the television. No matter what you think, I’m sorry about his being shot. And I’m sorry about losing my temper and punching him in the face at your Christmas party. I was jealous and I never intended for him to fall down the stairs. My behavior was inexcusable, and I felt terrible about what happened. I never took the opportunity to tell you, or him, how sorry I am about what I did.”
I let out a sigh. “In the grand scheme of things, Weston, it’s no big deal. I forgive you. I know you weren’t yourself at the time. You’ve never been a violent man, and I know it was an accident. With Edward being in a coma, what happened with you two in the past is just that—the past. It’s the least of my worries.”
Tears flowed down my cheeks, coursing their way along my chin onto my shirt. Weston gently smoothed them aside with his fingertips, then cupped the side of my face with his hand.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this, Brandy. No matter how jealous I may be, I’d never wish this on anyone. I’d be the first person to understand why Edward’s in love with you, and I don’t blame him for anything. Our marriage went sour before he came along. Your having his child wasn’t the only thing breaking us apart. I played my part in it too. I just hate to see you so unhappy. You’ve had more than your share of sadness. I wish I could help you, take some of the pain away.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand on my cheek. My tears continued to flow, the sadness overwhelming me in his presence. Before our problems began he’d always been there for me, bending over backward to lift my spirits after Christine’s death. But back then, I was beyond anyone’s consolation.
Since that time, I’d learned a lot, both about acceptance of the bad things that happened in my life, and my new-found way of looking at life in a positive way. Yes, I had to accept what happened to Edward, but I believed something good would come along later.
I opened my eyes and found myself looking straight into Weston’s eyes, his expression unreadable. I couldn’t tell whether he was sad, remembering our past together, or if he was about to say something to make me feel better. I was wrong on both counts. Instead, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lips, at the same time dropping his hand from my cheek, placing it on my hip, drawing me toward him.
With both hands on his chest, I pushed myself away from him with all the strength I could muster, stumbling backward. “What the…what the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were being noble telling me you were sorry about Edward, but that’s not why you’re here—”
“I’m sorry, Brandy,” he interjected. “I didn’t come here to do that. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you.”
I squinted at him and stepped closer. “Get the hell out of my house,” I screamed. “My fiancé is in a coma, he could die, and you’re here trying to seduce me?”
“No! I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about—”
“Go tell it to someone who cares, all right? You make me sick,” I said and pushed him out the front door.
He grasped the edge of the doorjamb to keep from falling and sneered at me. “The best thing I ever did was divorce you.”
“I hope you told Carol that. I’m sure she’d want to know,” I replied then slammed the door in his face.
What a creep. If Edward wasn’t in a coma, would Weston have come over here and tried to take advantage of me like that?
Edward was going to wake up. I was still his fiancé and I was willing to wait however long it took for him to come back to me. My relationship with Edward, such as it was at the moment, was not over. And I certainly didn’t need to fill the void in my life with another man. Weston had offered himself to me on a silver platter, but too much water had flowed under that bridge. We couldn’t just pick up where we’d left off. It would never work out. I couldn’t trust him to be there when the going got rough.
And I’d be fooling myself if I thought he’d accept Jessica as his daughter. My being pregnant was the reason he’d walked out on me to begin with, and I couldn’t take the chance he might heap his resentment on her in some way. That would be irresponsible and stupid.
My subconscious had already been dealing with the possibility my waiting for Edward could be a protracted experience, going on for years with no end in sight. But this was the man I loved wit
h all my heart. I’d wanted to marry him before he’d been shot, and I still wanted to marry him. Though it was depressing to think of him living out his life in a care facility, I’d be there when he woke up.
And I planned to tell him that. Just in case he could hear me.
Chapter 54
Now that Edward was in Pleasanton, I needed at least forty minutes driving time each way if I wanted to visit him, which meant Stephanie had to babysit for two hours. I reached for the phone to call her.
“Hi, Steph. Do you have time today to watch Jess for a few hours?”
“Sure. She’s an easy baby to take care of. She likes to sit in her seat and watch me study,” she answered.
“How are your classes coming? You still loving your courses in pre-med?” It seemed our previous conversations had centered on my life, my problems with Weston, or the drama surrounding my fiancé Edward. And I wanted to get to know her better.
She groaned. “Another year and a half at Alameda J.C., then I’m outta here.”
“Have you selected a favorite university yet?”
“I’d kill to get into Stanford. My parents can afford it, but I’ve gotta ace every single class if I want to get accepted there.”
“I admire your career choice, Steph. How many years are you looking at before you graduate?”
“Man, oh, man…I’d say about eight to ten years, depending on the specialty I select. You know, like, if I decide to be a neurosurgeon or something, it could take longer. It’s too early for me to know just yet.”
I was at least ten years her senior, and she was more mature than I’d been at her age. “I don’t envy you. But you’re lucky your parents can afford to send you to a private university. When you graduate you’ll have your pick of places to practice. Do you want to stay in California?”
Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, “I haven’t told my parents this, so don’t say anything, all right?”
Moon Over Alcatraz Page 25
