Love's Secret Torment

by Stacy L. Darnell

  I screamed out in terror and ran down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I knelt by his side, as he lay there, unmoving. I fumbled in my purse for my phone and dialed 911. I wasn’t sure if I would ever see his eyes again, whether alight with happiness, or devoid of joy. I’d take either as long as it meant he was okay.

  That was the last time I saw his crystal blue eyes, and they were devoid of their usual light, because I couldn’t give his love a chance. Because I loved two men, and couldn’t leave well enough alone. I should have walked away from both of them.

  I wish I’d never told him that I loved Emmett, too. Emmett had ended things between us. His words, “It was fun while it lasted,” had resonated in my head, but it just felt so dishonest to keep it from Alec. I didn’t want him living under false pretenses and hope for us. I wanted his understanding. Instead, I only gave him more pain.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Lang, we’ve had to move Mr. Morris to the ICU,” Dr. Shaw said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “What are you talking about? I thought Alec’s injuries weren’t life threatening. He’s not shaking as much anymore. Why has he been moved to the ICU?” I asked.

  “Are you a member of his family?”

  “No. I’m his . . . friend.”

  “I’m sorry, but I need to talk to a member of his family.”

  “Umm . . . well, it’s really just us. Now. I mean, he has his Aunt Robin, but she’s on a trek across Europe with her boyfriend. And he has his brother, Emmett. But he’s not here. Can you check his file please? I know he put me as an emergency contact before his Aunt left for Europe.”

  Dr. Shaw flipped through Alec’s chart to the last page.

  “Ahh. Here it is. Samone Lang, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I answered, relieved.

  “Well, Ms. Lang, the test results are conclusive. The EEG shows significant seizure activity. Mr. Morris has epilepsy.”

  “No, you must be mistaken,” I said. “Alec doesn’t have epilepsy. I mean, I think I would know. We dated for nearly two years in high school. Your damn tests are wrong. Alec has never said anything to me about having epilepsy, and that’s not something he would hide from me.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Lang, from the best my colleagues and I can tell, since his fall, Mr. Morris has been in Convulsive Status Epilepticus.”

  I must have had a confused look on my face, because Dr. Shaw smiled apologetically and walked me over to a chair in the ICU waiting room. When we sat down he continued.

  “It’s a condition that occurs in epileptic patients who are in a state of continuous seizure activity that lasts more than five minutes, or if they have frequent recurrent seizures without regaining full consciousness in between them.”

  It was like white noise in my ears as I tried to focus on what he was saying.

  “Patients with Convulsive Status Epilepticus have an increased risk of permanent brain damage and death.”

  I gasped as my hands flew to my mouth.

  “As you can see, Mr. Morris has yet to regain consciousness, and he’s having frequent tonic-clonic seizures. In between those tonic clonic, or convulsions, he’s still registering significant seizure activity that isn’t showing physically. I really need to know what anti-epileptic medications he takes. Does Mr. Morris have any immediate family I can call and discuss his medical care with? I need to know his complete medical history. I need a list of his current medications before moving forward with treatment options,” Dr. Shaw said.

  “Alec isn’t taking any prescription medications . . . that I know of. He doesn’t even take vitamins,” I said as I shook my head.

  Dr. Shaw let out a frustrated sigh. “Would you mind calling his brother, please? At the moment, he’s in stable condition, but that could change at any time. I can assure you, the issues between Mr. Morris and his brother aren’t as important as his current state of health.”

  I nodded. “Yes, of course. I think I’ll take a walk for this call, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s fine.” Pointing to a sign on the wall, he stated, “We prefer no cell phone usage in the ICU anyway. Remember, Ms. Lang, time is of the essence.”

  Right. Time is of the essence. Please, Emmett, pick up the phone.

  Ever since he broke up with me, he wouldn’t answer his phone or respond to my text messages.

  Oh God, he’s never going to even listen to my message.

  “Hi Emmett, it’s me. It’s urgent. This isn’t about us. Please listen and don’t delete this. Look, something’s happened. Alec’s in the hospital. This neurologist, Dr. Shaw, is saying that his test results show seizure activity and that he has epilepsy. The doctor needs to know his complete medical history, and what medications he takes for his seizures. I mean . . . this is crazy. Alec doesn’t have epilepsy. We’d have known if he were having seizures. I never would’ve called unless it was something important. But none of this is Alec’s fault. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Emmett, more sorry than you’ll ever know. Anyway, this doesn’t matter right now. Please, just call Kennestone Hospital and ask to speak with Dr. Shaw. You don’t even have to call me back. I lov . . . I’m sorry.”

  Auburn’s about an hour behind us, so he was probably still at work. I scrolled through my contacts for the Lumberyard.

  A chipper voice answered. “Auburn Lumber Mill, how may I direct your call?”

  My mind grated on her upbeat tone. I reminded myself, this girl was doing her job and had no idea, the nature of my call. I swallowed hard after a quick breath.

  “Hi, I’m trying to reach Emmett Walker.”

  “One moment please.”

  I stood leaning against a bench outside the hospital, my leg shaking as I waited. I listened to her tap-tap-tapping the keys on her computer, and I wanted to scream at her to just pick up a phone or radio and call for him.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Walker isn’t on schedule for today.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “I just looked. He hasn’t been here all week, and he’s not on the schedule again for another week after this.”

  “Oh. Can I leave a message, in case he calls in?”

  “Sure. What’s your name?”

  “Sam. Please ask him to call my cellphone. It’s urgent.”

  “All right, did you want to leave a number?”

  “No, he has it. Thanks for your time.”

  Walking back into Alec’s room in the ICU, I felt my heart sink in my chest. He was just lying there, his eyes closed. He looked peaceful. They had him hooked up to monitors and a blood pressure machine. There were IV lines in his arms and one was connected to a bag of blood.

  What the hell?

  They weren’t giving him blood when I left to call Emmett. I decided to wait there and ask Dr. Shaw why they had started a blood transfusion. Something had changed. I needed to know what it was. God, I hoped Emmett would call back.

  As I sat in the cold, hard chair at Alec’s bedside, my mind raced back to the morning. I didn’t want to remember it. I didn’t want to think those thoughts again. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Why couldn’t I just have left well enough alone? He didn’t have to know. He didn’t have to hurt . . . his eyes never would’ve held the stark realization, the torment of true pain and misconceived betrayal. It didn’t matter that it was unintentional, that Alec and I weren’t together when it happened. Because it didn’t change the fact that it was with Emmett. But most of all, it didn’t change the fact that I loved them both, and nothing was gained, but everything could be lost from those words I spoke this morning. My selfish attempt to clear my conscience, for not being able to love Alec the way he needed me to, and not being able to let Emmett go.

  Neither of us knew who the other was. We were just two lonely strangers at a damn college frat party. Being with Emmett felt so right, more right than I’d ever felt in my entire life. I felt whole when I was with him. If I’m honest with myself, the thought of being without Emmett feels so wrong, it causes
physical pain in my chest.

  The months following that frat party were like heaven. We fit into each other’s lives so well. Until that last Sunday morning Emmett and I were together. When Alec called, our worlds turned upside down, our lives shattered with one cruel twist of fate—they were brothers.

  Sitting there, I held his hand. It was the only sense of warmth I felt. Everything else was so cold. Everything and everyone. God, why hadn’t Alec told me he had epilepsy? How could he have kept something like that from me? What if Emmett didn’t listen to my message or never returned my call? I decided to send him a text. Maybe he’d at least see it before deleting it. He hadn’t replied to any I’d sent after he ended our relationship.

  Me: Emergency with Alec!

  @ Kennestone Hosp. I left you a msg.

  pls listen to it & call for Dr. Shaw

  Please reply . . . please please please . . .

  E: Don’t leave. I’m on my way.

  Before I realized something was happening, several nurses rushed into the room. Alarms sounded, and I was pushed out of the way.

  Oh no! Alec!

  “Ms. Lang, we need you to step outside,” a nurse said.

  “Wait, what happened? What’s wrong with him? Alec!” I screamed as I backed out of the door.

  There was so much going on in that cold room, I couldn’t see Alec anymore, only the people crammed around his bed, frantically working on him. I focused on the backs of their heads. I don’t know why, but I did. Some of them were shaking their heads, others nodding, some were turning in different directions . . . looking around, I guessed, but for what?

  “Please, help him, please, make him better,” I prayed.

  I couldn’t tell what they were doing. There was so much yelling and noise. I kept my hands over my ears to shut out the pandemonium. Silence . . . oh, thank God, it finally got quiet again. I was relieved that Alec would be okay. Thank God,” I whispered. I didn’t know what I would do if I lost him.

  I looked up and saw the doctor’s head had stopped moving, his eyes downcast. I strained to see what the hell he was looking at on the floor. Why was he just standing there? I stepped closer. I wanted to yell at him to move and call out orders.

  But another voice stopped me cold. It was a doctor I’d seen Dr. Shaw talking to earlier. “Dr. Shaw, you need to call it. We did everything we could do,” he said.

  Dr. Shaw’s head jerked up as he looked to him, then at the ceiling. “Damn it!” he swore. “Time of death . . . 2230 hours.”

  What?

  My head was pounding, my hands and feet suddenly felt heavy. My attention snapped to Alec’s bed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. He looked so peaceful lying there. As a nurse drew the sheet up over his head, it jolted me out of my moment of peace.

  “Oh my God! Alec! No, stop! Don’t do that! He’s not dead. He can’t be!” I cried. “No! Alec! Please, don’t go! Please!” I begged.

  My knees were suddenly weak. I felt familiar strong arms surround me, and they held me tight. God, I had never thought I’d feel them again, but then, at that time, and for that reason, I wished so badly that I hadn’t.

  “Sam, I’m here,” he whispered in my ear. His hands were warm as they rubbed my arms, a stark contrast to the cold I’d endured all day.

  How had he gotten there so fast? He should’ve still been driving. It had only been a short while since I called him. He lowered me to a chair in the hall across from Alec’s room.

  “What’s . . . what the hell’s going on in there?” He turned around toward the door of Alec’s room. He looked back at me, “Why were you in there? Is that . . . shit, please, please say no . . . Is that Alec’s room?”

  I nodded as I wiped at my tears. I just couldn’t find my voice.

  “Why the fuck is there a sheet over his head?” He looked at me with desperate, disbelieving eyes before turning back toward Alec’s room. “Oh fuck—no!”

  He threw his hands up in the air, roughed them through his hair and slowly walked into the room. He stopped halfway between the door and Alec’s bed, and looked back at me with panic in his eyes.

  He made it to the bed and sat on the edge, just staring at the floor. His hand switched from a fist to resting flatly on Alec’s chest like a broken lifeline. When he turned to look at Alec’s lifeless form lying under the sheet, I could see his lips were moving. I just couldn’t hear what he was saying. But every few words or so, he cried harder and harder.

  As I watched the one-sided exchange, his body wracked with sobs, inadvertently pulled the sheet from Alec’s face. Emmett gasped and nearly fell off the bed, holding one hand over his mouth as the other was frozen in a sheet-clinched fist on Alec’s chest, and I cried even harder than before. I jumped up and ran down the hall, barely grabbing a mop bucket in time to throw up. A nurse ran out of another room and clutched me by my elbow, holding me steady.

  “Miss, are you all right?”

  I shook my head and pointed back down the hall where Alec’s room was. She helped me walk back to the doorway of his room. When she looked inside and saw Emmett sobbing as he held Alec in his arms, she slung her arm over my shoulder and pulled me closer.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She stepped back and dug in the pocket of her scrubs for a Kleenex. “But he really shouldn’t be in there.”

  “Oh God, please give him a minute. Please, we just need some time,” I said, wiping tears from my face.

  “All right then, let me see if the chaplin is here,” she said as she walked away.

  I leaned against the doorframe and tried to compose myself before walking back into Alec’s room.

  “Please, Alby, please be okay. I can’t lose you. Please,” he begged as he rocked Alec’s body in his arms.

  As I stepped inside, Emmett turned and looked at me. His eyes were bloodshot, tears and snot running down his face.

  Neither of us could speak. We just stared at each other as I walked over to Alec’s bedside. I finally looked down at Alec’s face as Emmett gently laid his head back down on the pillow. I couldn’t breathe. I started gasping for air as my tears began to flow down my cheeks again.

  Emmett rushed around to the other side of Alec’s bed and sat down pulling me onto his lap in the visitor chair, he brushed one of his hands down my back. His other hand caressed my face. I couldn’t help but meet his eyes, and I was lost. The strong set of his jaw was angled down toward me, and his brows were knit tight with the pain of his loss.

  But it was his compassionate, tear-strained eyes that broke the last of my strength. My own eyes pooled over again, and the tears streamed down both of our faces. Seeing his messy black hair, a darker match to Alec’s calico brown, ripped a strangled cry from my chest.

  Emmett’s soothing voice both eased me and sliced through my heart at the same time. After weeks of nothing but coldness from him, of his total avoidance, hearing my name on his lips, and being comforted in his embrace, was just too much for me to bear. Not there. Not then. Alec was lying there dead. His light was out forever. We never even got to say goodbye.

  My heart ached for fear that the last conscious memories or thoughts that Alec had were of torment because he knew I loved Emmett, too. Did he feel despair at the whole situation? Was epilepsy the big secret he was hiding? Why didn’t he think he could tell me? He wouldn’t have had to go through all of it alone.

  I hated myself right then, because I knew I needed Emmett. I hated that he’d been pushing me away for weeks. But I loved Emmett with every ounce of my being. Alec had just died. I couldn’t breathe. It was too much. Everything felt tight. Alec, oh God, no. I couldn’t believe he was gone.

  “No, please, no . . . Emmett, what have we done? Oh, Alec, I’m so sorry,” I cried the words.

  “Sam, stop. You have to calm down. We didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice cracked as he turned his head back toward Alec.

  I couldn’t stop the tears. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate.

  “Breathe with me now, e
asy, Peach,” he whispered.

  His choked endearment was my undoing.

  A part of me died the night we lost him. I was acutely aware of Sam’s presence as soon as my feet stepped off the elevator in the hospital. I ran up behind her as she was screaming and wrapped my arms around her. In that instant, I knew only that I wanted to console her, whatever it was that had her so beside herself. But when I turned and saw the body—his body—lying covered by a sheet, that’s when a part of me died.

  Our lives were irrevocably changed from that moment on.

  The hospital had given us Alec’s belongings the day after he died, but Sam wasn’t able to even look at the bag. She just started crying about how he wasn’t there anymore. She didn’t want to look at his empty clothes and empty shoes. She was distraught . . . we both were. But I knew I had to hold on to that bag. I knew we’d both want and need to see it later. It was the last, vibrant piece of Alec we had left.

  About a month after Alec died, I opened it and took out his shoes, socks, jeans, shirt, and jacket, either the hospital had thrown out his boxers, or he went commando. Either option was fine by me. It was when I picked up his jacket, that I found it, a little black velvet box. My heart sank down into my stomach. I didn’t even make it to the bathroom before I threw my guts up.

  God, it was a good thing Sam hadn’t wanted to see that bag. She would have lost it. I sat on my couch and stared at that little black box. Probably for hours. I wanted to open it and see what he’d chosen for her. I wanted a glimpse of the hope he held in his heart for getting Sam back. I deserved the pain of seeing that token of hope, since I’d basically spat on it when we last talked. But I just couldn’t bring myself to open it. I kept staring at it and thinking. Thinking and staring. Staring and remembering . . .

  I thought about the last time I talked to him. What we both said to each other, the harsh words and callousness between us. The last words he’d spoken to me ran on an endless loop through my mind.