SIX DAYS LATER stiff and stone-faced, I lean forward with my elbows bent, resting on the cushioned arms of the chair. I carefully watch the rise and fall of Tyler’s chest. My blinks become few and far between as my eyes focus on his every movement. I don’t speak to him today. I can’t be responsible for the hateful words I’ll spew.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” An older nurse asks after she checks Tyler’s vitals.
I draw my eyes up slowly and meet hers. I shake my head subtly, wordlessly.
“He’s not going to be too happy to see you like that when he wakes up again.”
Again, my eyes snap upward. “What did you say?”
“He’s going to want to see you healthy with a pretty glow on your face.”
My lips curl upward. “What are you talking about? When did he wake up?”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “A few days ago. He opened his eyes and looked directly at the chair you’re sitting in. He let out this deep howl and then closed his eyes. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”
I blink and return my eyes to Tyler. “No.”
“I think he was looking for you.”
My breathing quickens as my heart beats harder.
I don’t respond.
“I know what all the young people around here think. I’m a nurse. I get the science behind it all, but I also see the connection between people’s souls. I feel it in here.” She flattens her palm against her heart. “His soul was looking for yours. He’s waiting for you to bring him back or let him go.”
Tears fill my eyes at the thought of letting go. I’ve lost so much already.
“He needs to come back,” I whisper.
The plump, kind-hearted woman walks over, pats my shoulder and smiles.
“Then tell him that.”
Moments later, I’m left alone with Tyler.
Dragging the heavy chair closer to his bed, I rest my chin on the rail and stare at the man who conspired with my husband to take everything from me.
“I hate you,” I whisper through gritted teeth as angry tears spring from my eyes.
“I hate you so much. You and Alex…I hate you both so much. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but you’re not going to win. You are not going to take my life away from me. I won’t let you.”
I swipe my sleeve across my nose as I hiccup through tears.
“I will find out why you guys did this to me and I will never forgive you.”
Beep, beep. The monitor increases its usual pattern. Beep, beep, beep.
“What’s the matter? I know you can hear me.” I rise to my feet and lean over the bed, my mouth inches from his face. “Open your goddamn eyes and look at me!”
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
“C’mon you stupid jerk! Open. Your. Eyes!”
Tyler’s eyes, although still closed, move erratically as if he’s trying desperately to open them. His lips twitch and purse.
“That’s it! Wake up!” I raise my voice, encouraging him. “I need you to wake up.”
Again his eyelids flutter but then close.
My voice drops to an ominous tone, my words emerging through gritted teeth. “It’s okay, Tyler. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you wake up.” Little does he know that my wrath also awaits him.
I sit back in the chair and stare at him. He holds the answers to my questions. I’ve got time. Plenty of time.
A few hours later, after his vitals have been checked for the umpteenth time, Barbara, the grandmotherly nurse looks back and forth between Tyler and me.
“There’s a lot of negative energy in the room. I feel it. Why don’t you take a walk? Go get some fresh air.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as I shake my head and decline her recommendation.
“What does he like?”
“Excuse me?”
“Tyler. What things make him happy?”
“How should I know?” My forehead wrinkles with disdain.
“Aren’t you two together?”
“No! I hate him!”
It’s her turn to look confused. “If you hate him, why are you here then?”
“Because…well, because…I…it’s complicated. He has something I need.”
She smirks. “I’m sure he does.” Then she winks.
“He has answers. I need answers.”
“In God’s time, darling. In His time.”
I stare at her blankly.
“I’m going on lunch soon. Care to join me?”
“Thanks, but no. I’m going to wait for him to wake up.”
“And when he does, be kind. Whatever this animosity is, you can’t bombard him with it right away. He’s been through enough hell; don’t you think?”
My cell phone rings and my mom’s name appears on the screen.
I stand, walk to the door, and step into the hallway toward the waiting area before I answer the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, love. Where are you?”
I trace the joint line of the linoleum tile with the tip of my shoe. “At the hospital.”
“Oh, you’re working? I thought you had today off.”
“No. I’m here with Tyler,” I confess quietly then close my eyes as if that might drown out her next words.
“Why? Why are you torturing yourself? Sweetheart, he can’t bring Alex back.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I open my eyes and exhale through my nose. “I need to talk to him. I need to be here when he wakes up.”
“Your dad and I want to take you for dinner before we leave.”
“Okay,” I agree, knowing my stomach won’t be able to retain much anyway.
“Are you sure you’re okay with us leaving for a few weeks?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. Go. You’ve had this trip planned for so long.”
“Call me when you get home. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Just as I turn to reenter Tyler’s room, a petite woman with shoulder length hair walks in, towing a cute little boy gently behind her. I move closer to the door and watch through the small rectangular window as she lifts the boy onto Tyler’s bed.
“Barbara,” I call as the nurse heads down for lunch. “Who’s that?” I motion with my chin.
“That’s Stacy, Tyler’s mom.” A smile spreads on her face, pulling her full cheeks back, revealing high cheek bones. “And the little guy is Tre.”
“His mom?”
“Yep.”
“Is that his son?”
She shrugs.
“That I don’t know.”
“Thanks.”
I stand against the wall, lurking for several more minutes until I hear a child’s cry and instinctively, I rush into the room.
“What happened?” I ask, noticing a few blood drops on the floor near Tre’s feet.
“Oh, baby. Let me see!” Stacy inspects Tre’s fingers and hand, assuring him that it’s only a small cut and that he’ll be fine. She scoops him up and brings him to the sink to wash his hands off.
I move closer and ask if I can have a look.
She tosses me a suspicious look and asks who I am.
“I’m a nurse. I actually work here.”
My words must convince her because she sets Tre on the small counter and allows me to inspect the cut.
“What happened?”
“He accidentally knocked over the vase of flowers. He’s an accident waiting to happen.”
I set about cleaning the superficial wound with antiseptic, smiling at the adorable boy.
“I’m Karrie, by the way.”
“Stacy.” She offers her hand and stares at me for a long while. She then smiles warmly and turns her sights on Tyler. “My boy’s still not woken up again, huh?”
My eyes follow and land on him as well.
“No, but he will.” I clear my throat. “He has to.”
“I can’t lose another son.” Her voice drips with pain.
I gasp. “You lost a son?”
“Four years ago,” she mumbles quietly. “Still feels like yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry.” And I truly am. The death of a loved one is almost unbearable.
An awkward silence permeates the room until Tre asks to get down.
“Let me clean up the glass. We don’t need any more injuries, right buddy?”
From my squatted position, I can hear Stacy talking to her son, urging him to wake up if not for her sake, for Tre’s.
I deposit the broken pieces of glass into the garbage and wash my hands all before grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
“I’m going home. It was nice meeting you.”
Another warm smile beams from her face. “Hope to see you again. Thank you for taking care of my boy. He and Tre are all I’ve got left.”
My legs carry me quickly to her as my arms wrap around her thin shoulders.
“He’s going to make it.”
“Thank you,” she sniffs.
Walking to the door, I pull it open and step through.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” I hear Stacy whisper to Tyler just before the door closes.
***
THREE WEEKS AND four days later, while I sleep soundly in the padded chair beside Tyler’s bed, a grunt startles me, causing my eyes to flash wide open and my body to stand on two wobbly feet. I rub my eyes when I realize Tyler Strong has awakened from his coma.
His eyes are glassy as he stares in my direction. He’s got a spacy, far-away look as though he’s not actually looking at me but rather looking past me.
With a quick lick of my tongue, I moisten my lips, preparing to hit him with a barrage of questions, but not a single word manages to escape.
“W—”
His words cut short and he blinks slowly. “Wat—”
He’s thirsty.
I step out of the room and find a Styrofoam cup to fill with ice chips.
“Wa—”
“Here. I pinch an ice chip between my thumb and index finger, sliding the frozen liquid back and forth across his cracked lips. A drip trickles down the crease of his mouth and disappears into his beard. His eyes never stray from mine as I continue the intimate motion.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” I close my eyes and mentally chastise myself. Of course he isn’t going anywhere, you idiot!
A doctor and a nurse follow me into the room and check his vitals then run a series of quick tests which include flashing a small light into his eyes to assess his condition. His eyes appear to have more of a blue hue than green. When Dr. Bancroft completes his assessment and releases the hold on the skin above each eye, Tyler’s eyelids remain shut.
“Did he say anything?”
I nod. “I think he was trying to say ‘water.’ ”
“I’m sure he’s parched. Wouldn’t you be?” The doctor smiles, widening his eyes as his eyebrows shoot up. “We don’t want to push him or expect too much just yet. It may take a few more days for him to be fully conscious and able to speak if he can at all.”
Fear mingled with anxiety lance through me at the idea that Tyler may not be able to speak. What if he doesn’t remember? What if he’s suffered brain damage? What if he can’t give me the answers I seek?
“We’ll be sure to let his mom know when she comes back.”
I look at him curiously. “When was she here?”
“About an hour ago. She didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Me?” I’m dumbfounded. “What do I have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. She said you were talking to him. She said something about not interrupting the intimate moment and that she’d come back later.”
Intimate moment? She must’ve seen me leaning over his bed, berating him. I had to restrain from ringing his neck because for every question I asked, I got no reply. It was far from intimate.
Claustrophobia sets in as the walls feel like they’re caving in on me. I struggle for each and every little breath.
“I have to go.” The words tumble out of my mouth as I grab my bag and race to the door. I can’t get out of there fast enough.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from here.” A gush of air escapes my lungs as I glance back at Tyler. “Away from him.”
Tears blur my vision of the evening sky as grey clouds loom overheard. The sky opens up and buckets of rain fall angrily, pelting the roof of my car. I manage to arrive home although I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
My heart aches, my chest is tight and my lungs beg for air. Pulling into my spot, I blindly search for the button to close the garage door. Only the sound of the rain and the low idling of my car fill the space.
My arms circle the steering wheel and I cry harder than I have since the day I found out my husband was going to divorce me. Everything hurts. Even the follicles of my hair are sore from being pulled violently. My eyes, swollen and red, are like natural springs, continuing to produce endless streams of water.
I have a million thoughts running rampantly through my mind, a million questions battle to be asked.
With shallow breaths shuddering from within my chest, I look around the interior of my car. The time on the dash morphs into one number, the fuzziness becoming a solid speck of illuminated green. My head feels light, my body weightless.
Fumbling desperately, I find the button and open the garage door. I put the car in reverse, slam my foot down, clip the front quarter panel on the stone wall and back out haphazardly until I am parked in the middle of our upscale suburban cul-de-sac. I stumble out of the car and collapse onto the wet grass. I gasp for air like a fish out of water.
It’s here where my parents find me.
“Karrie! Wake up!” I hear my father’s deep voice.
“Oh, God. Is she okay?”
The worry tainting their voices is unmistakable.
My eyes flutter open and strain to focus on his face. “Daddy?”
“I’m here, baby girl.” I’m lifted up by strong arms, cradled into his chest and carried into my home.
He sets me down on the leather couch and cups my face. “What happened?”
“I’m going to call Paul,” my mother says, pressing the screen of her phone. “I want to see what he thinks we should do.”
I search my brain, trying to remember exactly what led up to the episode which left me on my front lawn. “I couldn’t breathe. I was dizzy.”
“Have you eaten anything?”
My silence provides the answer for me.
“You’ve been under a lot of stress.”
I struggle to sit up, but my dad forces me down with one firm word. “Rest.”
“Does anything hurt?”
I nod and point to my chest. “It hurts so bad.” My attempt to refrain from crying fails miserably. “I can’t believe this is my life, Dad. How is this possible?”
My mother comes into view. “Paul thinks we should take her to the hospital…as a precaution.”
With careful eyes, my father searches my face, looking for some indication that I need to go.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind, Dad.” My voice cracks and my chin quivers. “I think I’m going to die of a broken heart.”
He glances to my mother who quickly wipes her eyes.
“Let’s get you checked out and then we’ll come home. Okay?”
What can I say? My parents have always known what was best for me. If I only I had listened to them about Alex, my life wouldn’t be in complete shambles right now.
“I want to shower first.”
My mom walks me upstairs and gets me into the shower. Closing the lid on the toilet, she sits and talks to me. I ask about her upcoming trip and she does her best to keep things light. I know what she’s thinking.
She thinks I tried to kill myself.
But the truth is my life is trying to kill me.
After pulling on a pair of yoga pants, long-sleeved shirt and my sneakers, I climb into the back of my dad’s Audi and stare out the window as the night sky passes by. No one utters a single word.
I’m admitted to a private room for “observation”. My vitals are taken every few hours and a line of IV fluid compensates for my dehydration.
The weight of someone’s stare rouses me from a tumultuous night of rest.
“Hi, Karrie. I’m Dr. Mancini. I’m sorry to wake you.”
My eyes widen and rake over the plainly dressed man standing beside my bed before I glance around the room, looking for my parents who are nowhere to be found. The only evidence of my mother is the black pashmina draped across the plastic chair.
“Hi. It’s okay. I was just getting up anyway. Don’t want to miss the breakfast buffet.” I reply with a smirk while sitting up quickly and running my fingers through the tangles of brown. The aftermath of arriving last night with wet hair must be quite a sight. I pull the wild mane together at the nape of my neck. My fingers work quickly to divide the strands into thirds as I yank through the knots to form a long braid, securing the end with an elastic from around my wrist.
“That looks painful,” he grins, teasing me.
“They’re extensions. I don’t really feel it. In fact, I don’t feel much of anything at all.” I give him a pointed stare.
He nods once. “So I’ve been asked to come pay you a visit.”
I blink and lick my lips, preparing to ask the question to which I already know the answer. “Are you a shrink?”
He hums in confirmation. “Yes, but I prefer psychologist.”
“Did my mother ask you to come?”
“She did,” he confirms with a quick nod. “She’s worried about you.”
I snap my teeth and meet his stare. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”
“No one said you did.” His voice, although pleasant, is patronizing.
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t have to.”
“Do you mind if I sit?” He points to the chair and when I agree, he sits, setting my mom’s wrap on the edge of my bed.
“You’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time.”
“Yep,” I answer dryly. “My husband died quite unexpectedly…and he was going to —
He cocks his head to the side, listening intently.
I reach for the Styrofoam cup and sip the tepid water.
“Is what I tell you confidential?”
“Of course. While you’re not technically a patient of mine, ethics would disagree, so yes.” A comforting smile tugs at his lips.
Nodding firmly, I announce, “Good, because I think I’m going to explode if I don’t tell someone soon.”
Given the rising of his thick eyebrows, this man must think I am certifiably insane until his face returns to one of coolness. With gentle encouragement, he tells me to go on.
“I’m sure my parents told you what happened to my husband, but they don’t know everything.”
He tips his head once and confirms the situation.
“Well, a short time after I buried him, I arrived home from work to a strange man waiting for me.”
“Go on.”
“I was served with divorce papers. Divorce papers!” I sneer incredulously. “My husband was going to leave me!”
Even this trained professional can’t hide the shock when his stoic face transforms to one of disbelief.
Leaning forward to reiterate my point. “That’s not even the worst of it. He changed the beneficiary of his will.”
As if robbed of his ability to speak, Dr. Mancini sits there cross-legged, stunned, searching to find appeasing words to offer.
“He named Tyler the sole beneficiary.”
Finally, he speaks. “Who’s Tyler? His brother or his son?”
I laugh sardonically. “Neither.”
“He named a stranger the benefactor of his estate?”
My eyes roll. “Tyler’s his best friend. He was in the truck the night Alex died.”
The conversation continues for what seems like forever as I tell him about Tyler’s condition and about my feelings toward him.
“Hate is a strong word.”
“Well, it’s true. I do hate him. He conspired to steal everything from me.”
“And you’re sure about that? Do you have proof or are you speculating?”
I narrow my eyes in thought, realizing I don’t have proof and I won’t have any answers until I have the chance to talk to Tyler.
Air whooshes from my lungs in a deep exhale.
“Please don’t tell anyone, especially my parents.” I smooth my hands over the thin white blanket and reach down for the soft black material. I pull gently at the frayed edges of the wrap as I digest his words.
“Karrie, I’m bound by confidentiality not to tell anyone…but I think it’s a conversation you might want to have with them when you’re ready.”
“Let’s talk about what happened last night.”
I recall the events from the moment I ran away from Tyler’s room to the second I entered the garage.
“What was I thinking?” I tip my head back on the pillow and look at the lights on the ceiling.
“You could’ve died from carbon monoxide poisoning had you not had enough sense to open the garage and back out.”
The thought sends shivers down my spine, goosebumps line my arms.
He reaches into the front pocket of his button-down shirt and scribbles effortlessly on a pad, lifts the paper by the edge and then rips it off. “Here.”
I reach for it. “What’s this?”
“A prescription for Xanax.”
“Why?” I ask with reservation.
“What you experienced was an anxiety attack. This should help.”
“But I don’t typically have anxiety,” I retort, setting the paper down.
“That may be true, but what you’re going through isn’t exactly ‘typical.’ ”
The pad is tucked back into his front pocket. I’m grateful he isn’t writing any more prescriptions. I hate to put anything into my body.
The door opens, my breakfast is carried in on a mauve colored tray and set on the table.
I thank the young girl who quickly ushers herself out.
Dr. Mancini stands, reaches into his navy blue dress pants and pulls out his business card. “Here.”
Tight lips express my skepticism before releasing a quiet sigh. I stare at the card for some time then accept it.
“Why don’t we set up a time for you to come in and talk?”
I want to scream and holler that I don’t want to talk to him. I want to tell him that I simply want my old life back, but I don’t. I quietly thank him before he turns and leaves.
My cell phone rings with a familiar tune. I see Pam’s name on the screen and once again reject the call. It’s the fifth time I’ve rejected her call. I know she wants to help, but I just need to be left alone.
Wrapping myself in my mother’s pashmina, I am comforted as if her arms cradle me. I close my eyes and don’t reopen them until my parents come back into the room.
Sympathy and pity spread across their faces.
“Can we go now?” I ask.
“As soon as you’re discharged,” my mom says, caressing my face softly.
My dad steps forward. “We think you should stay with us for a while.”
They’re still not convinced about last night’s incident.
“Dad, I promise you. I would never do that. Ever. I love you guys too much to be that selfish.”
Hours later, I step into the elevator assisted by a parent on each side. My dad presses the button for the lobby, but I reach out and press number five.
He gives me a questioning look.
“I need to see Tyler.”