Unmistakable (29 page)

The waiting is over….

For me.

The healing starts….

For him.

Forgiveness…

Begins with him.

Love…

Ends with us.

After being thoroughly evaluated by an ER Doctor and given fresh scrubs to change into, I park myself in the waiting room with my eyes glued to the door where one of the nurses told us the surgeon will come through. Everyone is here, except Jake and Trish. Tami is sitting next to Brian, who’s next to Uncle Jack, holding Aunt Patti’s hand while she silently prays. I know this, because her lips are constantly moving, and her eyes are closed as she holds my right hand tightly, while my brother holds my left. Damien is my anchor, never leaving my side, even for a second, while Summer sits quietly next to him.

I don’t want to talk…

Because there’s nothing to say.

I don’t want to move…

Because fear binds me on this chair as I wait.

I hate waiting…

Because it’s torture.

It’s torture because of the unknown…

This big, white, unforbidden door has been calling my name since I got here. It’s as if it’s pulling me toward it. The need to push it, go through it is so intense; the only reason why I’m still sitting down is because of a six foot two man holding me down. I close my eyes for a second, willing life to stop, but instead, I’m inundated with memories of
him
…of
us
. Though painful, I relish its intrusion, because in this particular memory, we
are
happy…he
is
moving…he
is
loving me…we
are
perfect…
our
kind of perfect.

Then, the perfect is distorted by memories of someone touching me, making me dirty, warping my thoughts, killing my spirit. Surprisingly, when these moments hit me, my brother’s hold on me becomes much stronger, and my Aunt’s prayers much louder. It’s as if God makes them feel my pain to help me through it.

Two hours turn to three, then just as LT is about to carry me to the cafeteria and force food in me, a guy wearing blood stained scrubs approaches the center of the waiting room where more than one family waits. I can’t speak, can’t move, I can only hold onto my brother for dear life. Afraid to find out, but wanting to know. Such is the state of my mind while my heart beats at an uncontrollable pace.

“Mr. Oliver.” The man in the scrubs scans the waiting room.

My uncle stands up and says, “Right here.”

Motioning for my uncle to sit down, he sits on the center table as he clasps his hands together.

“The surgery went well. I was able to repair the tear that’s causing the bleeding in his lung. Also, he’s suffering from swelling in his brain, more than likely caused by the severe blows he received on his face and head. He also suffered a collapsed lung. He’s in stable, but critical condition and will be in the ICU for further observation due to the injuries he sustained. Do you have any questions for me?”

“So, he’s alive?” I ask, uncertainty in my voice as I claps my brother’s hand harder.

“He is. Though, it will be a long road to recovery for him.”

“When can we see him?” I ask with a little bit of life in my voice.

“Maybe in another hour.”

My uncle clears his throat and asks, “I know you said there’s swelling on the brain. So, he’s in a coma? Will he need any more surgeries?”

“We have our team of specialist on board. He’s in a medically induced coma, but his Neurologist will monitor his progress. If the swelling goes down, he’ll gradually reduce the meds and bring him back out of it. Until the swelling goes down, any surgeries he may need has to be decided base on his improvement. He has a team of doctors assessing him as we speak, a neurologist, orthopedic surgeon to name a couple. His attending physician will give you more in-depth information about his condition.”

Slowly standing, he shakes everyone’s hands, except mine, because I’m still being held by my brother and aunt. A physical anchor on my left, a spiritual light on my right. As soon as he walks away, a feeling of dread ignites my body like a wild fire, while everyone around me remains quiet. Perhaps, they’re allowing everything to sink in or waiting for me to drop down in hysterics. Hopefully, I can control myself, and not fall apart in front of them. I’m psyching myself not to freak out, because I want, maybe need, to suffer in silence as penance for putting him here.

“Did you hear that, Roxy?” My uncle asks.

I can only nod as I release my aunt’s hand to wipe my tears. It’s because of my dad that he’s here. It’s because of me that he’s here. How can I carry the guilt that’s consuming me? How can he possibly forgive me? How can he even look at me, let alone touch me after witnessing what Diego did to me? How can we survive this?

Twin tears fall…

Again….I wipe them.

Can I forgive myself?

Another set of tears fall….

Again….I wipe them.

Will he ever forgive me?

They fall….I wipe them away.

I think…

They fall again…and again I wipe them away.

“Can you guys give us a moment?”

My eyes remain glued to the floor as I feel everyone leaving, except for my uncle. What he’s about to say, I don’t know. Will I accept the truth he’s about to give me, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m thankful he’s here, again….for me.

“Look at me,” he confidently instructs me as he reaches for my hands, covering them with his.

Gradually, I lift my eyes to meet his as we just stare at each other for a while. Just like that, I’m brought back to re-live a scene from fifteen years ago when I was a child, seeking protection from someone who willingly gave it to me.

“Now, you listen to me. I don’t want you to blame yourself. You aren’t the reason he’s here. He wanted to protect you, just as much as anyone of us did. He took that responsibility, because he wanted it…he embraced it with everything he had because he loves you. Is he here because of your dad? Perhaps. But, it’s not your cross to carry. Will he be angry? Maybe. He’s only human, Roxy. He bleeds just like you. Should you have told us? Honestly, I think, we find ourselves in certain situations because it’s where fate wants us to be. It’s what’s destined to happen, so thinking the woulda, coulda, shoulda of life is useless. This is your storm to face, Roxy, and face it you will. Will it be hard? You bet your ass it will be. But, quitting isn’t an option. Rest if you must, sweetheart, but never ever quit, not on yourself, and not on him.”

“I’m afraid.”

“You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t, sweetheart. He may be lost for a while, but he’ll find his way back, just like Jake did. Remember, behind a strong man is an even stronger woman. Meanwhile, you just sit tight and wait. It’s in the waiting that your strength is tested. While I hate life is making you wait again, I’d like to think, I’ve raised you up to be more than this storm. So, what do ya say?”

With quivering lips, I say, “Adapt, improvise, and overcome.”

“Outstanding, sweetheart.”

He embraces me for so long and so tightly. It’s as though he’s making sure the last morsel of fear leaves my body as the last tear drops on my face. I’m not saying fear will not come knocking, I’m sure it will, but for now…for now, I’m more than this storm….

I’m more than this fear….

I’m more than everything negative swirling in my brain.

When I’m all cried out, we stand and walk over to the nurse’s station. The nurse behind the desk gives us directions to get to the ICU. Seeing the red phone on the wall next to a double door, I know we’ve reached our destination. I’m preparing myself, expecting the worst, but hoping for the best. Hope is the only thing I can really hang on to right now…while I wait.

After Uncle Jack picks up the phone, the double doors open, and we go straight to another nurse’s station. The nurse politely guides us to Cody’s room, and no amount of preparation could’ve helped me with seeing his broken and battered body. There are machines everywhere, his finger’s hooked up to something, wires of some kind are hooked up to his chest. His eyes are swollen shut, the left one worse than the other. His knee is heavily bandaged as well as his right hand. His face is a plethora of white bandages, blue and purple bruises and scratches. Every inch of him is covered, including his lips that I love so much, because now an oxygen mask covers them. I’m glued to where I am, the desire to move is there, to run toward him and touch whatever part of his body I can, but my heart is overwhelmed with all the things attached to him. A beeping sound echoes in the quiet, causing me to jump, while my uncle becomes rigidly still next to me when the nurse walks in.

“Excuse me, when will he wake up?” I asks quietly, afraid I’ll wake him up.

She stills for a second as she stares at me, but corrects herself when Uncle Jack clears his throat, waking her up from her mini-daydreaming moment.

“It’s hard to tell. We’ll find out in a couple of days. Let’s hope the swelling goes down fairly quickly.” Looking at Cody she continues, “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.” She turns and looks directly at my uncle.

“Roxy, why don’t you stay, and I’ll track down everyone else.”

With a brief embrace, he makes his way out while the nurse stands there fussing over Cody’s IV lines. She’ll glance my way every now and then with a longing in her eyes I can’t place, and at this point, I don’t care much. My mind can only register Cody.

“Why don’t you sit on his left side, so you can at least hold his hand? Do you want a blanket? It tends to get cold in here.” She gently smiles at me.

Why does her smile look familiar? It feels familiar. After blinking twice, I shake my head, clearing unimportant things fogging my brain.

I sit and start caressing Cody’s hand with my fingers, back and forth I go; the longer I do it, the more comfortable I feel being in the room. The beeping of the machines lull me into a somewhat peaceful trance. The rise and fall of his chest are like the hands of a clock, signifying life….his life….they signify time…his time…our time…that continues on with every breath he takes. I look at his eyes, willing for them to open so I can enjoy looking at the depths of his baby blues, but I get nothing.

“It’s okay to cry, you know.”

I peel my eyes away from Cody’s face and lock eyes with the same nurse from earlier. I can’t explain it, but her eyes calm me. The worry….the pain….the fear that are constant intruders in my brain seem to melt away with a simple glance from her, and I drink it up; I inhale it. It’s as if she’s my life saver, my own personal flotation device in my own personal storm.

A twitch from Cody’s fingers causes me to look away from her, putting all my focus on him now, and not my own relief. I don’t deserve any form of relief, or maybe I do. I don’t know at this point.

“His finger twitched. Does that mean he’s waking up?” I whisper.

“I don’t think so. He’s pretty much drugged up, baby girl.” She stops, holding her hand over her mouth. “Um, I’m sorry I called you that…um, it’s because I don’t know your name. Please, forgive me.”

Smiling weakly, I shake my head. “It’s okay. My name’s Roxy. How long can I stay here?”

“Are you sure you want to stay? You should rest, Roxy.”

Silently praying she won’t kick me out, I beg her with my eyes that are slowly watering, just thinking of being away from Cody. “Please, I want to stay here with him.”

“You can stay. You don’t have to hold your tears on my account. Cry, whenever, you want to; it’ll make you feel better.”

Exhaling the breath I didn’t know I’m holding, I say, “It’s all I’ve been doing lately. I just want him to open his eyes, but I’m afraid when he does….” I stop myself from continuing on, because I’m afraid to say it out loud for fear of it actually happening. He won’t want me back in his life.

“Sometimes fear distorts what is real, and you create a monster that you shouldn’t even be afraid of. How about you just wait until he opens his eyes and go from there,” she says as understanding flows from her eyes to mine.

“You mean, you weren’t ever afraid in your life?” I ask in disbelief.

“I have been, actually.” She smiles the saddest one I’ve seen today. “For over twenty years I’ve lived in fear, but one of my patients told me something, many many years ago that still resonates to this very day. I was told if you’re confident in that One Being that has been standing in front of you since the day you were born, then fear doesn’t have a place in your heart. His love will heal the hurt, His strength will carry you through life, His words will reveal the lies, His promises will give you hope, and His faithfulness will be your shield. So, if and when this young man wakes up, and he tells you something that will hurt you, or test your strength, or misunderstand your words, and maybe break the promise he made to you; think about what I just said. Then maybe, you’ll have the peace of mind to wait it out with a little bit of hope…a little bit of strength, and a little bit of faith.”

She leaves and doesn’t wait for my response; thankfully she didn’t, because my tears started again. Uncontrollable tears start flowing like mighty waves in a troubled ocean. A mixture of fear, a deep sense of hope and longing, painful reminders of mistakes, and disgusting images toss and turned in my heart and mind. The one emotion swallowing everything else is the overwhelming sense of fear that he’ll never forgive me.