He said something else, but I was no longer listening. I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my sobs.
* * *
At ten o’clock the next morning, a pretty blonde nurse came and told us we could see him.
By then, I felt like death, and Coop was looking pretty hellish too. Neither of us had eaten or slept. Neither cared. We went into Theo’s room together, holding our breath and holding hands, quaking in fear at what we’d find.
I took one look at him and fell against Coop with a strangled cry of horror.
No one should look that bad and still be alive.
He was black, blue, and purple, and various shades of green. Both eyes were swollen shut. Lacerations slashed ugly red lines across his face and arms. His lips were bruised and disfigured by swelling. His head had been shaved on one side, and a tube stuck out of his skull, leaking yellow fluid. He was hooked up to a ventilator and various plastic tubes and beeping machines, and if it wasn’t for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, I’d be certain he was dead.
After he caught his breath, Coop said in a tight voice, “Well, he’s looked better.”
I burst into tears and buried my face in his chest.
“C’mon, now,” he whispered, hugging me. “Dry your tears and go say hello.”
Heart pounding, I crept over to the bed. When I touched Theo’s hand, it was cold. I leaned over and kiss his forehead, and that was cold too.
Shaking, I whispered, “Don’t you dare leave me. Hold on. I need you. I love you. Come back to me.”
Theo made no response. Not a flicker of life crossed his face. His body was still there, but I had doubts about the rest of him.
Then the hardest part began.
Waiting.
29
“Just go home, Coop. There’s nothing more you can do here. You heard the doctor—they’re not going to bring him out of the coma for at least another few days, at the earliest. Go home to your kids, get back to your life. Make sure your crew doesn’t build a bar in my living room. I’ll call you the minute I have any news.”
Coop sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and nods. It’s been three days since Theo had surgery. His vital signs are stable, but he’s still in critical condition. The doctors look at him like they can’t believe he’s still alive, and though that makes me want to punch them all in the face, it gives me a grim kind of hope. If he’s made it this far, maybe he’ll make it all the way.
“You gonna be okay here?” asks Coop, his face creased with worry.
“Okay or not, I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks at me for a long time. “You know, his parents both passed. He’s an only child, no real family to speak of.”
I whisper, “I know. You said.”
“My point is that he’s lucky to have you.”
My laugh sounds hollow. “No, Coop. I’m the lucky one. You have no idea.”
He looks like he wants to say something more, but then he shakes his head and exhales heavily, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll check on the Buttercup on my way home, see how everything’s goin’. I’ll call you later tonight.”
He pulls me from the chair I’m sitting in beside Theo’s bed and gives me a bear hug. Then he clasps Theo’s hand in farewell. “See you soon, buddy,” he says, his voice choked.
He turns and lumbers out, tears shining in his eyes.
Suzanne has already been out to bring me a change of clothes and have a breakdown at the sight of Theo. I had to take her into the hallway and prop her up in a chair so she could catch her breath.
Colleen and I have been talking on the phone every day. I have a feeling we’re going to become very good friends, no matter what the future holds.
Craig was charged with DWI and spent two days in jail. Depending on the outcome with Theo, other charges might be pending.
As for me, I’ve been sleeping in chairs and drinking too much coffee, and spending a lot of time on my knees in the hospital’s quiet little chapel, bargaining with God. Which is about as useful as trying to bargain with the earth to spin in the opposite direction, but it gives me something to pass the time.
Three days turn into four, four into seven. I check into a hotel near the hospital and rent a car. I receive daily updates from the doctors, but learn nothing new. I exist in a strange twilight zone of fluorescent lights and cafeteria food, endless terror and crushing guilt.
I crucify myself over all the things I should’ve told Theo while I had the time.
We always think we have enough of that precious commodity, until fate steps in and proves us wrong.
Then, on the tenth day after Theo’s accident, I get an early phone call from Coop.
“How’s it goin’? You been over to the hospital yet?”