by SM Koz
“Annoyed that he won’t wake up.”
“Give it time.” She circles back around to my side of his bed and scrunches up her nose when she gets close to me. “Are those the same clothes you’ve been wearing for days?”
I look down. I hadn’t even realized. “Umm … maybe.”
“When was the last time you showered?”
“I don’t know … a few days ago?”
“The first morning we were here?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s it. You need to go back to the hotel. Shower. Take a nap in a real bed. You’ll feel better and you’ll be more positive for JC.”
“I can’t leave him.”
“I’ll be here the whole time,” my dad pipes up from across the room. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”
Marta grabs my hand and pulls me up, despite my protests. “They need to prevent germs in the ICU. If any of the doctors get a look … or whiff of you, they’ll kick you out.”
I finally relent and head back to the hotel by myself. I had only planned to shower, but once I was clean, I lay back on the bed for a few moments, waiting for my hair to dry. The next thing I know, it’s six in the evening. I slept five hours and do feel much better. Marta was right.
When I get back to JC’s room, my dad is still there, reading on the loveseat. Nana is also there, knitting, and I wish I had my scarf project. I text Marta and ask her if she brought it for me. While I wait to hear back from her, I hold JC’s hand and absently rub my thumb over his knuckles.
“So,” I say, scooting my chair closer to him. “I’ve decided that I won’t accept anything less than you waking up. Once I set my mind to something, I’m pretty persistent. I will annoy the hell out of you if I have to. I could sing,” I say, considering possible songs. The problem is I haven’t listened to music in ages. The one song that springs to mind is the pop song Jenna and I sang the night she died. That’d likely ruin my upbeat attitude so I focus on something else.
“I could remind you about that night on the rocky ledge. Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t been such a gentleman now. What if that was your last chance to get lucky?”
Nana and my dad both glance in my direction, but neither says anything. I decide I’ll wait until I’m alone to relive that evening with him.
“I guess I could tell you Prince Jalen stories, but mine are never as good as yours.” I rest my chin on the edge of his bed, right next to our hands. “How about a different story?”
After a few moments, I say, “I’ll take your silence as a yes. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a beautiful princess named Jenna. She had blond hair, flawless skin, and bright blue eyes. You’d probably say she looked like Barbie.”
I draw our folded hands under my chin and rest my head on them. “She was smart. Probably the smartest princess there had ever been. She was also a little bossy, but usually made good decisions so no one minded too much. One day, Princess Jenna woke up to the King banging on her door. That was the day she had to pick a husband. Jenna had been dreading the day for months. She knew all the guys in the village, but didn’t like any of them. Her true soul mate lived in the neighboring village. He could never be an option, though. There were strict rules that princesses could only marry within their land.
“Despite the rule, Princess Jenna and this guy … Tom, snuck out of their village walls and spent every evening together. They were hopelessly in love. And … there was a baby.”
Both Nana and my dad look at me again, this time with concern on their faces. “There’s not really a baby is there?” he asks.
I roll my eyes and continue the story. “Princess Jenna was thrilled. She had imagined having a daughter of her own for years. She couldn’t wait to share the news with her best friend … Kari, but she knew she had to tell her dad, the King, first. He would be furious. Tom refused to let her break the news on her own out of fear the King would banish Princess Jenna to the swamplands where dragons and two-headed snakes—“
Movement under my chin causes me to jump. I gasp and stare at his fingers.
“What’s wrong?” my dad asks, rushing to my side.
“He moved.”
Nana stands and hobbles over to us. “Are you sure?”
I nod and continue staring at his hand, but it stays motionless and just as lifeless as it’s been the past four days.
“I swear,” I mumble. I grasp his fingers with my own and squeeze. “I felt it, JC. I’m here. Please do it again.”
While I’m talking, my dad rings the call button. A nurse comes in and asks us what’s wrong. I explain it to her and she rushes out of the room to get the doctor. Soon the room is packed with people all staring at JC and I have to tell them what happened.
The doctor spreads JC’s eyelids and shines a light in, taps his elbow with a little tool that causes his arm to jerk, and listens to his heart and lungs.
Finally, he turns around to address us. “It’s hard to say, but it could be possible he’s slowly coming out of the coma. It generally happens over a period of a few days. We’ll keep an even closer eye on him for the time being.”
I can’t help but smile as everyone clears out. I grab JC’s hand again and shake it. “You’re waking up! Omigod, Marta was right! Please hurry up. I want to talk to you.”
I stand there, tapping my foot and shaking his hand.
“The doctor said it could take days,” my dad says. “You need to be patient.”
“I can’t be patient. He’s waking up!”
Nana stands on the other side of the bed and holds JC’s left hand. I don’t think she has any plans of being patient either.
“I can see this is going to be a long night. I’ll get us some coffee.”
Once he leaves, Nana and I smile at each other. “I knew the good Lord still had plans for my boy on Earth,” she says.
“Do you think he’ll be okay when he wakes up?”
“The Lord will give him what he needs,” she says without an ounce of worry.
We end up standing like that for ten minutes until we realize it may be a while before he moves again. I bring Nana’s chair over for her and then sit in my own. We both stare at his face, looking for any sign of consciousness.
“Anything?” my dad asks, handing out coffee when he returns.
“No.”
“Maybe you should tell him more of your story. That seemed to do the trick last time.”
“You’re right. As soon as I mentioned snakes …” I pause. “He hated snakes. Like, really hated them. Maybe that scared him into moving.”
“What else does he hate?”
“Water.”
I take a sip of coffee and then rest my chin on the bed again. “When the King found out, he didn’t banish Princess Jenna to the swamplands. Instead, he put her on one deserted island and Tom on another, separated by fifty feet of shark-infested water. He also shackled Jenna with a ball and chain. If she went into the water, she’d sink. The only way they could be together was if Tom swam to her through the sharks. The King knew he’d either get eaten or drown in the process.”
“Lord have mercy,” Nana whispers. I sit up and follow her stare. She’s watching JC’s face. His beautiful face with open eyes gazing straight ahead.
“JC!” I yell. I drop his fingers and grab his face with both hands. “JC!” I kiss his forehead while Nana says a silent prayer. I take a step back and watch him. He doesn’t move his head, but his eyes rotate, first looking at Nana and then at me. I bite my lip, not sure if I should kiss him, hold his hand, or just stand there smiling.
His lips curl up slightly, almost unnoticeably, when he sees me. I can’t help myself, I lean back over and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” His smile grows a little bigger and then his eyes close.
“No, no! Wake up!” I yell, shaking his hand again.
It doesn’t help though. He falls back into unconsciousness for the next eight hours no matter what kind of stories I tell. At some point, I drift off to s
leep, despite trying to fight it with all my will.
When I wake, it’s sunny and the room is swarming with people again. I haul myself out of my makeshift bed and stand at the foot of JC’s behind the medical people. The first thing I notice is the tube missing from his mouth. He must be breathing on his own now. Then I see his eyes. They’re open and he’s looking around the room.
When he lands on me, he smiles, a real smile this time. It melts my heart and all I want to do is jump into his arms, but the doctors and nurses are blocking me.
“Do you know your name?”
He turns his head slightly to focus on the doctor who asked the question.
“T—T …” He swallows and tries again. “Ty—Ty …”
“It’s okay. That will come in time.”
“Do you know who this is?” he asks, putting his hands on Nana’s shoulder. “Nod yes or no.” He nods yes.
He walks around to me, asks the same question, and gets the same response. When he does it with my dad, JC shakes his head.
“He doesn’t know him,” I say, wanting the doctor to understand that his answer is correct. “It’s my dad, JC.”
He nods and then focuses back on the doctor.
“Do you remember what happened?”
He shakes his head.
“You were injured, Tyrell, and unconscious for a while, but you’re doing better.”
He moves his mouth, but no words come out, only meaningless sounds. He points to his lips.
“It may take a while for you to start talking again. We’ll have a speech therapist stop by later today and come up with a plan. Don’t be alarmed, this is fairly common.”
He licks his lips and then points to me. He motions for me to come closer, but his hand is uncoordinated and flops on his chest.
The doctors and nurses step back so I can move next to him. When I do, he smiles again. I lean down and kiss his cheek, which causes him to smile even bigger. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper. He nods and tries to talk but it’s all just jumbled sounds again. “Shh … I know how you feel,” I say, pressing two fingers to his lips. He kisses them and then closes his eyes.
“He’ll be in and out of consciousness for a while,” the doctor says, “but this is encouraging. He’s aware of his surroundings and appears to have only minimal amnesia.”
“Will he be able to talk again?” I ask.
“There’s a good chance.”
Once the room clears out, I squeeze his hand and am finally rewarded with a weak squeeze in return.
Chapter 34: September 1-6
As the doctor predicted, JC was in and out of consciousness the rest of that day and the next. Whenever he woke, he’d smile at me and want me near him. I was always happy to oblige and think I may have made my dad and Nana a bit uncomfortable when I climbed in bed beside him. He didn’t seem to mind, though.
By two days later, he was finally spending the majority of his time awake and the doctors decided to move him to a normal hospital room, not the ICU. They also thought it was time for him to get out of bed.
A physical therapist is visiting him now and making him go through a number of exercises while lying down before he even tries to get him up. After the last one, the therapist says, “Your muscle tone is still good. You must have been quite the athlete.”
JC smirks at that comment and I know he’s proud.
“No steroids,” I point out. “It was all natural.”
The therapist gives me a weird expression, but JC makes a sound that I’ve come to recognize as a laugh. It’s kind of throaty and nasally at the same time.
“Okay, let’s get you standing.” He pulls JC’s legs over the edge of the bed and then grabs his arms. “On three … one … two … three.”
JC leans on the therapist, but wobbles side to side.
“It’s perfectly normal to be a little dizzy after lying down for so long. It should pass.”
JC nods and then closes his eyes, his body still swaying.
“Try taking a step,” he says encouragingly. JC lifts his leg, but as soon as he does, his body lists to the right and he falls into the therapist.
“On second thought, let’s put you in a wheelchair instead. We’ll go down to the rehab room where I have more equipment.” He helps JC sit on the edge of the bed and then retreats to make plans.
JC hangs his head and it’s clear he’s disappointed. “Hey,” I say, sitting next to him and wrapping my arm around his waist. “You’ll get it back. You heard the doctor, everything just takes a little time.”
He nods, but doesn’t look at me.
Things only go downhill from there. He has multiple meetings with speech and physical therapists, but after three days, he can only say a handful of single syllable words, not all of them correctly, and he’s really not much closer to walking as he seems to have lost all sense of balance.
I’ve been joining him at all his sessions, but he’s become more withdrawn and grumpy. I don’t think he’s smiled in at least a day and half. I can sense him getting discouraged, so I try to be even more positive, but I think that might just further annoy him.
“Time to change your catheter,” a cheery nurse says, entering the room.
“I’ll wait outside,” I say, grabbing my knitting project from the loveseat to take with me.
For the first time in at least a day, his eyes meet mine. What I see in them breaks my heart. It’s not love. It’s not optimism. It’s defeat. He’s giving up. I turn away and rush into the hallway.
While I wait, I text Marta, telling her JC needs her help and maybe Kris’. Kris was in bad shape and she’s doing well. Maybe that’s what he needs to see.
When the nurse finally leaves, I return and sit on the bed next to him, like I’ve been doing. I try snuggling into his side, but he doesn’t welcome me.
“What’s wrong, JC?” I ask timidly, not sure I want to open this can of worms.
His jaw is rigid as he stares off into space.
“I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through this. Kris is doing well now. You just have to be positive.”
“Fut tis.”
I cringe at his words. He pronounces “ck” as “t” and he can’t say the letter “r” so I know exactly what he means. Fuck Kris.
“Shh …” I cradle his head in my hands. “You don’t mean that. It’s just been a rough day. Tomorrow will be better, I know it.”
“Fut You.”
He rolls over and I feel like he’s taken a knife to my heart. He’s never talked to me like that before. I bite my nail and swallow the lump in my throat. I know he’s hurting. He didn’t mean it.
I rub his shoulder and sniffle, trying to erase the pain he caused me with those two words. “I love you.” I know he can say that, he did it a couple days ago, but he remains silent.
“Please don’t be like this,” I whisper.
“Lite what?” he yells, sitting up and flinging me across the bed. “Trip—pp—le?”
“What?” I ask confused by his words and even more confused by his actions.
“Triple!”
“Triple? I don’t understand.”
He grabs a cup of water from his table and throws it across the room. “I’m triple!” he says, jamming his finger into his chest. “Futin triple!”
It suddenly dawns on me what he means. Crippled. “No,” I say shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant.” I reach for his arm, but he shakes me off. “I don’t want you be negative. You need to be positive. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Go!” he yells, pointing to the door.
Tears start falling down my cheeks. “I don’t want to.”
“Go!”
He picks up his plate of uneaten dinner and throws that against the wall. It lands on the floor next to the cup.
“JC, you’re upset,” I say, standing. “I’ll give you a little space to calm down. Can I come back tonight?”
“No!”
“Please?” I reach for his face, but he pus
hes my hand out of the way.
“Go! Now!”
Just then, Marta enters. She eyes the mess on the floor and then JC who is clearly agitated.
“What’s wrong?”
“He wants me to leave.”
“Why?”
I fidget, not wanting to tell her what he thought I meant. I didn’t mean that. I would never think that. He has to know that. “I don’t know.”
“JC, can we talk about this?”
“I tan’t talt!”
“Yes, you can. What’s wrong?”
He picks up the television remote and throws it against the wall. Next is the vase with flowers from Marta. That shatters with a loud crack and an impressive mess. Then it’s the pillows and blanket on the bed. We’re lucky there’s nothing more substantial within his reach.
“Why don’t you go back to the hotel tonight,” Marta says to me. I wipe the tears away and nod. When I’m at the door, I glance back at JC, but he won’t even look at me. He’s still got that angry glower as he stares at nothing.
Chapter 35: September 7
The next morning, I sit on my bed, flipping television channels without thinking while I wait for Marta. She texted me in the middle of the night saying that she was going to come talk to me and my dad in the morning. My dad took over Marta’s hotel room last night so I look through the adjoining door for him, but he’s still in the bathroom. I really just want to run back to the hospital, but Marta told us to wait for her.
I yawn as I reply to her message, asking when she’ll arrive.
Last night was awful. I tossed and turned for hours only to fall asleep a few minutes before Marta’s text arrived. After I read that, there was no more sleeping.
I’m worried what she’ll say. I assume she was still with JC when she texted, which means they had a lot of time together. I want to believe she changed his mind, but if that was the case, why would she need to see me?
“You up, kiddo?” My dad asks, peeking into my room.
“Yes. Have you heard from Marta?”
He checks his phone. “She’ll be here in ten minutes. Why don’t you clean up while I get us some breakfast from downstairs?”
