Chapter 13
When I arrive at the hospital I find Rebecca, Charlotte, and Emily in the waiting room, their faces shrouded in worry. I embrace them each in turn, trying to project an air of assurance that I don’t really feel.
“When do we get to see him?” I ask by way of greeting. Rebecca and Charlotte exchange a glance, and Emily pulls a nasty face. “What? What’s going on?” I can feel the blood drain from my face at their taciturn response.
“They say only one of us can go in,” Emily pouts. Charlotte throws her a sharp look.
“We’ve decided it should be you,” Rebecca addresses me softly. I’m taken aback.
“I appreciate that, but you’re his mother. I really think you should go,” I reply.
Rebecca shakes her head. “I gave him life. But in his thirty-four years I’ve never seen him love someone the way he loves you. You’re his life now,” she says to me. “And I’m thankful for that. If he’s going to fight for anyone, it will be for you.”
Any hope I had of maintaining composure crumbles at her words, and I melt into her arms, sobbing. When I’m able to collect myself, I nod gratefully.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
They lead me to the nurse’s station, and a short wisp of a woman in scrubs leads me to a room to undergo the sterilization procedure.
I emerge into the clean area a while later, scrubbed, stinging, and wrapped in garments that keep my bodily elements out of the environment around me. I feel like I’m wearing a space suit, but at this moment I don’t care. I’d dress like a giant hot dog if it meant seeing Bryce.
I follow the directions I was given around the corner and into a room with no door. There’s only one occupant, lying in a hospital bed, surrounding by tubes, wires, and machines that hum softly in the otherwise silent space.
I approach as close as I dare, stopping inches from the edge of the bed. There are tubes from his head, nose, mouth, and arm that snake over the great expanse of his chest and the side of his bed. I’m afraid to even be near them, should I accidentally bump anything.
When the initial fear has passed, I spend a minute just looking at him. His head has been partially shaved toward the back, his handsome face obscured by the tubes and tape. But I can see the bruising that spreads over his nose, chin, and cheek. Tears fill my eyes remembering how he got them.
I take a deep breath, fighting hard to stay calm. So that when I speak he hears me, and not my anguish.
“Hey, baby,” I greet him. “I’m here. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. You had surgery, and they didn’t even want to let anyone see you until tomorrow. But I couldn’t wait that long. You know me, always impatient.” A flash of memory of the last time he called me that slips through my defenses. We were both naked. I blink the tears away hard and breathe deep to suppress the memory. “The doctors say you’re going to wake up. And that there’s a good chance that you’ll fully recover. And I’m going to be here for you every step of the way. But there’s something else you should know.”
I pause, not sure how much I should say, if it could somehow stress him further. So I couch my words carefully and explain how the threat against me, against us, is over. His face, his limbs, and his long frame are still throughout, not a hint of change in the beeping of the machines around him. But I persist.
“We’re safe now,” I conclude. “Even if it was too late to stop this. I’m so sorry, Bryce.” My voice cracks at saying his name. I’m saved an imminent breakdown when a small speaker by his bed crackles to life.
“Ms. Evans?” the nurse’s voice floats softly into the room. “Time is almost up.”
I nod mutely, even though I know she can’t see me, and my throat constricts with everything I want to say to him.
“I’ve got to go,” I say apologetically. “But starting tomorrow I’ll be able to visit more. We all will.” Throwing caution to the wind, I step forward and slip my gloved hand over his, squeezing gently. “Never forget how much I love you, Bryce Hoyt.” I turn and leave, barely holding back the tide of emotion.
Even though we aren’t allowed to visit Bryce until the following morning, we spend most of the time at the hospital anyway, sharing shifts in case there is news or he wakes up. Once they transfer him out of the clean area, his family is allowed to visit a fair amount, but non-family visits are more restricted. Still, I spend as much time as I can by his side, quietly reassuring him and calling him back to me.
As Sunday draws to a close I realize there is no possible way I’m going to be able to work while he’s in this state. I call Charles to let him know and, thankfully, he completely understands, sending his best wishes and tells me to call if I need anything.
But I forget even my most basic needs until Allie shows up, all but forcing food and rest on me. I’m exhausted, and though I’m not hungry, I notice the impact of not eating much. The copious amounts of coffee I consume hit my stomach like lead, and my head pounds. By Monday night, I start to wonder how much of this I can take.
And by Tuesday morning the sentiment has spread, as I can sense the nurses and doctors are tiring of reassuring us that it’s not abnormal for someone to be unconscious this long under the circumstances.
But on Tuesday afternoon, when I’m getting my umpteenth cup of coffee for the day, Emily comes shooting down the hall.
“He’s awake!” she cries as she approaches. And thankfully the cup of coffee is still filling in the machine, or I would have dropped it in my haste to get to him. But before I can get far Emily has planted a hand firmly on my chest. “We can’t see him yet. The doctors are with him now.”
I pull back, frustrated. “Were you there? What happened?” I demand.
Emily shakes her head. “It was Mom. I don’t know. She said he seemed disoriented, and she called for the nurses right away. They asked that she leave while they tend to him and get him checked out,” Emily replies.
I frown and turn to get back to the waiting room, to talk to Rebecca directly. I find her beside a pacing Charlotte, both women twisting their hands together frenetically.
When Rebecca spots me, she approaches and wraps her arms around me. “He’s awake. Focus on that,” she says. Her tone worries me, but afraid to ask, I say nothing and we all take seats in tense silence.
What feels like hours later, a doctor asks Rebecca to go with him to see Bryce. Another long, anxious, stretch of time passes before she emerges, white-faced.
“Well?” Emily demands. Rebecca looks up at her dismally.
“Physically, he’s doing quite well. He has all of his motor functions,” Rebecca responds carefully. “And he seems in decent spirits, despite still suffering a considerable amount of pain, even with the medications he’s on. So they’re adjusting those doses.”
“But?” I press, knowing there’s something she’s not saying. Something big.
“He seemed confused. He asked for his father,” she admits. My heart sinks in my chest. “The doctors told him he needs more tests, and rest, before he sees anyone else. The privately told me not to break any kind of news to him right now, that they need time to assess the extent of his issues.”
I start clutching my midsection as sharp pain shoots through me like I’ve been kicked. Rebecca reaches out and grabs me by the arms.
“Don’t worry yet, Sera, please,” she begs. “It’s too soon. He’s awake. And I can tell you right now, he’s still our Bryce. Let the doctors look at him. One step at a time.”
I should feel comforted. Because she’s right. So even though I can’t help but worry, I sniff deeply and nod. Rebecca and Charlotte step to the side to talk quietly, and Emily approaches me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“I’m here for you, Sera,” she assures me. “Remember, we pinky swore. No matter what happens.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Thanks, Emily,” I reply. “Ditto.” She lets me go and we sink into the hard, plastic chairs in the waiting room. And we wait.
No news comes, and not long later a nurse lets us know that we should go home and come back tomorrow.
I return home reluctantly, and without my security guards for the first time. There’s nothing to fear anymore. Well, nothing outside of the hospital, anyway.
The next morning, I pack a bag for Bryce with some sweat pants, shirts, his house slippers, and some hygiene items. As I pass the kitchen, I’m momentarily tempted to pack the frilly white apron that still hangs by the fridge. I resist, but somehow it gives me hope. Because it reminds me how much he loves me. And in love, there’s always hope.
I meet Rebecca and Emily in the waiting room by eight per our usual routine, but Charlotte has gone back to work with the worst of the danger passed.
“I brought him some of his clothes and things,” I say. “I didn’t know how long he’d be here.”
Rebecca smiles warmly. “The nurse says the doctor has some information for us. He’ll be out shortly,” she replies. “So hopefully we’ll know soon.”
I nod meekly, nervous. Thankfully, we’re not made to wait long. A shorter man in a lab coat and glasses comes out and heads straight for Rebecca.
“Mrs. Hoyt?” has asks kindly. She nods. “I’m Dr. Farber.”
“Call me Rebecca, please,” she responds. “This is Bryce’s sister, Emily, and his girlfriend, Sera.”
“Ladies,” he replies with a dip of his head. “Bryce is doing quite well, physically. But we are still a little concerned with his cognitive functions and his memory. Despite the reduction in swelling, he’s still struggling with both. But please be assured that that’s completely normal. He should make a good deal of progress in the next few weeks, but it could be up to a year before his recovery is complete.”
“When can we see him?” I ask.
“He’s perfectly fit for visitors, but be aware that he’s currently unable to remember anything within approximately the last eighteen months.” We all three of us let out a collective gasp. None of us imagined it was that extensive. I try my best not to panic, but it’s practically impossible.
Bryce won’t remember me. My ears ring as the conversation continues, and I have to push myself hard to listen.
“Eighteen months?!” Emily spits out incredulously. “Will that get better?”
Dr. Farber holds up a hand. “As I was going to say, he should not be pressed to remember anything he can’t at this time. He’s been made aware of it, but nonetheless it’s dangerous for his healing to push him. And we’re going to keep him for a few more days to make sure the swelling continues to go down and he’s weaned off of the majority of the medicines we’ve had him on,” Dr. Farber hedges. “But yes, his memory should improve. Though there’s no telling how much. Regardless, until his cognitive functions return to normal levels and his short term memory is repaired, he should take it easy. No work, no major decisions, no trying to force progress.”
“And, on average, when do you expect to see that kind of improvement?” I ask quietly.
“He could be ready for work in a matter of weeks, months at most,” Dr. Farber responds. “But he’ll need to work with a rehabilitation therapist to aid his healing. After a year, whatever progress he’s made is likely to be where he stays.”
I rub the back of my neck, unease creeping through every pore in my body. “I’ve only known him for five months,” I admit. “Is it okay if I go in? Just in case it jogs something?”
Dr. Farber looks like he wants to say no, and I press my lips together, willing him to at least let me see him. If for nothing else than to see for myself that he’s himself, mostly. That’s he’s okay.
“Normally, I would advise against it,” he hedges. “But if you don’t introduce yourself as his girlfriend, and you respond to his lead, I can allow it. He can’t be subjected to strong emotion right now, though, so if you need to, please leave the room rather than upset him.”
I nod, simply thankful for the opportunity. “I can do that,” I agree.
Dr. Farber looks around at all of us. “That really goes for everyone, until he’s improved. Let him lead. Watch him carefully for signs that he’s had enough. Know when to back off. The nurses will help you,” he assures us. “Any other questions?” Rebecca looks to Emily and me, and we shake our heads.
“Not right now, doctor, thank you,” she responds.
“Then follow me,” he responds. He grabs a nurse along the way and leads us to Bryce’s room. Emily pulls me aside as Rebecca enters with Dr. Farber and the nurse.
“I’m here if you need me, Sera. Just remember the long game,” she encourages me. “Even if he doesn’t remember you right now, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s early.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I just want to know he’s okay,” I respond. Emily nods, and slips her hand in mine. The warm, soft reassurance is more than welcome.
Dr. Farber exits, eyeing us as he goes, but saying nothing. I take a deep breath and let Emily lead me in.
The nurse stands by Bryce’s bed, checking his vitals. Rebecca sits on the edge of his bed, holding his hand. And he’s sitting up, completely free of tubes and wires. And he’s smiling. My heart almost breaks with relief and gratitude. Because even if he doesn’t remember me, he’s alive. And he’s going to be okay.
When he sees Emily, his smile widens into his classic Bryce sunshine smile, and I have to blink back bittersweet tears.
“Em!” he exclaims opening his arms to her. She drops my hand and rushes forward to embrace him warmly.
“Bryce,” she replies. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” She pulls back. “Love the haircut, bro.”
He laughs and runs his hand gingerly over the partially shaved patch. “I’ll just shave the whole thing later,” he assures her. “Nothing can stop these good looks, though.”
Em laughs. “Boy, a traumatic brain injury can’t even dent your ego,” she teases. “Is it wrong that that makes me feel relieved?” Emily rounds the bed, dropping into one of the metal chairs on the other side. And Bryce looks up and sees me for the first time. He does elevator eyes over me, and a shiver runs through me. He turns and looks questioningly at Emily, realizing I came in with her.
“Who is this?” he asks blankly. And I can’t help it. Even though I was expecting it, my heart breaks at his question, and I have to work to keep myself calm and my expression neutral.
“That’s my friend, Serafina Evans,” Emily responds carefully.
“Oh,” he responds happily. “Nice to meet you, friend Serafina Evans.” He extends a hand and something in me shifts again. I identify the feeling this time — it’s like a tiny death of a fraction of my hope.
I extend my right hand, shifting his duffle bag to my left. “You can call me Sera,” I respond as evenly as I can. His hand is rough and warm, and wonderful. He lets go far sooner than I’d like.
“I take it we’ve met before,” he responds drily.
I look at him in shock. “Yes, actually,” I admit. “But how did you know that?” He smirks and points at the duffle bag in my hand. I blush furiously. “Oh. Yes, that. Sorry. I brought some of your things. Sweats, shirts, slippers. And your toothbrush and shaving kit. Probably a few other things. I don’t know.” I hand over the bag dumbly, embarrassed by my verbal incontinence.
Bryce raises an eyebrow. “You brought those, huh?” he asks, confused. “Do I want to know why you had them in the first place?”
We all freeze for a moment, and it’s all I can do to keep my jaw off the floor. He sure as hell doesn’t seem like he’s got any cognitive issues. He seems just as observant as ever.
“Um, it’s a long story,” I reply. “I’m sure Emily will tell it to you later.”
Bryce nods, obviously placated. So maybe he’s not as sharp as usual.
Bryce turns to his mom. “Has anyone told Madison I’m here?” he asks innocently. A brief hush falls over the room as we all realize if the last thing he remembers is a year and a half ago, he’s still the Bryce that was with Madison. The Bryce that was about to propose to Madison, if I remember the timeline of the downfall of their relationship correctly. Suddenly, I feel like throwing up.
Rebecca shoots me a furtive glance. “No,” she admits. “We can worry about that later.” I swallow a lump in my throat. Rebecca and Emily continue shooting me sympathetic looks. And I know I need to leave. So I don’t fall apart, and their response to me doesn’t tip Bryce off that something is amiss. Especially if Madison is going to come parading in here soon.
And the thought of her being here while he’s in this state makes me want to punch something. But I shove it all down.
“I should go,” I interject. “Bryce, I’m really glad to see you’re doing so well. I hope you keep getting better, okay?”
He nods happily. “Thanks, Sera, it was nice to … er, see you,” he chuckles.
I catch Em’s eye. “I’ll talk to you soon, right Em?” I ask.
“Count on it,” she assures me quietly.
“’K. Bye,” I reply, ducking out as quickly as I can. And before I completely lose it, I call Allie and ask to come stay with her. Because I know being alone in the house I shared with Bryce is a recipe for a complete breakdown.