AFTER FINALLY CONVINCING my parents that I was in fact okay, I hug my mom then my dad before stepping out of the elevator with a promise to call them the second I get home.
I walk down the hall and press the button. A monotone voice asks who I’m here to visit.
“Tyler. Tyler Strong.”
The door clicks and opens. I raise a hand and wave as I pass the nurse’s station.
Peeking into the window I see Stacy resting on the chair; it’s the same chair I’ve sat in over the past few months since the accident. Debating whether I should go in, I eventually knock softly on the door. With a warm smile, she motions for me to enter. I glance around the room and notice more pictures now line the window sill and fresh flowers fill the tall vase.
“Hi,” I whisper as I wash my hands at the sink after setting my purse down on the counter. “How’s he doing?”
“Okay,” she sighs, her eyes drifting back to her son. “He was awake earlier.” I detect hope in her voice.
“He was? That’s great!” A feeling of euphoria passes through my body.
And I don’t understand it.
Not at all.
Stacy stands and offers her seat, but I decline, choosing to move closer to Tyler’s bed.
“You look tired. Is everything okay?”
I nod and admit that it’s been a rough couple of days, but assure her that I’ll be fine. After all, how much worse could things really get for me?
“What are the doctors saying?”
She looks at me. “They’re hopeful. He hasn’t said much. He mumbles incoherently and stares in this direction.”
“You can touch him. He won’t bite.” She smiles after noticing how my fingers are curled around the metal railing.
My eyes drag upward toward Tyler’s face. “He could use a haircut. I’ve never seen his hair this long.”
“Oh, that boy would blow a gasket! Did you know he goes to the barber every ten days?” She rolls her eyes playfully.
I smile crookedly. “No, I didn’t know that. He sounds kind of high maintenance.”
“He had a head full of curls when he was little. He would threaten to use a pair of scissors on himself if I didn’t take him for a cut.”
Unexpected words slip from my lips.
“I could give him a haircut.”
“You’re a hair dresser and a nurse?”
I laugh and shake my head.
“No, I used to give Alex a trim when he didn’t have time to go to the barber. I could bring the clippers tomorrow.”
Blue eyes watch me carefully.
“Oh God! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.” I rub my forehead nervously.
She stands and runs her fingers through her son’s hair.
“No, it’s fine. I think he’d like that. He’d like that a lot actually.”
I tip my chin to the window sill. “What’s with all the pictures?”
She looks over her shoulder, smiling at the multitude of snapshots. “The doctor said to talk to him about things he’s done, places he’s gone. You know… to remind him he’s got a great life to come back to. He’s always been the kind of person people naturally gravitate toward. So many people love him.”
A nasty thought surfaces about the number of women who also love him, but I suppress it, wondering why I care. Tyler Strong is nothing to me. Perhaps it’s because if all these women flocked to him, they would’ve flocked to Alex, too. My husband loved being the center of attention.
“This one,” Stacy says, holding a silver framed photo, “is one of my favorites. My mom and dad adored him.”
It’s the picture of Tyler leaning forward in between an elderly couple. His boyish smile stretches from ear to ear.
“He was so good to them. Went to visit them every Sunday, mowed their lawn, fished with his grandpa and ate whatever my mother made. Needless to say, she wasn’t a very good cook. Apparently bland was an ingredient she used often.”
I chuckle lightly and smile when I notice she’s grinning back at me.
“He really is a good guy with a big heart. He would never hurt a fly.”
I want to agree, but I can’t. The man she describes is not the man I know.
“May I ask a question?”
Her hand stills on his cheek and she replies with, “Of course.”
“Where’s Ty’s dad? Has he come to visit?”
The color on Stacy’s face pales, turning a shade of grey as she turns her eyes on me.
“No. He left when the boys were twelve.”
“Oh.” I flick my gaze to the picture of the family of four. The years between the photo and when he left weren’t many.
“He left me for a woman with four kids of her own.” She sighs sadly. “He left his children to raise someone else’s.”
My heart cracks for Stacy, for Tyler and his brother.
“I’m sorry.”
“I should’ve divorced him years earlier, but I couldn’t do that to my boys. Tyler never forgave him. His father was his world.”
Again, my eyes land on Tyler, observing every detail of his face as my hand follows, resting on his. I squeeze his warm hand gently, offering my condolence for the pain he went through. No child should have to experience that.
Inhaling deeply with closed eyes, Stacy kisses the photograph.
My fingers squeeze again and for a second, I almost think I feel a squeeze in return.
“He was my wild child.” She picks up a picture of the boys at their graduation, complete with caps and gowns.
“Thomas never played by the rules. While Tyler worked through his father’s sudden departure, Tommy couldn’t deal with it. At sixteen, he started getting into all sorts of trouble. Drinking, girls, partying. He couldn’t hold a job and only cared about himself. My heart broke for him.” She presses the picture to her heart.
“He never even got to see his son.”
My brain struggles to comprehend everything she’s just said. Her words reveal a much different Tyler Strong.
“Ty did everything he could to rein his brother back in and when he died, Tyler lost it for a while there. He started to follow in his brother’s footsteps with the drinking, women and partying.”
That’s the Tyler I know.
“I’m sorry about Thomas. Losing my husband was hard enough, I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child.”
“And to think I almost lost two.”
Stacy gives me a pointed look which makes me uneasy.
“You need to bring him back to me. Please.”
“Me?” I gasp. “Tyler and I aren’t exactly the best of friends. In fact, we’re not friends at all.”
She drops her eyes to my fingers clamped around her son’s. She doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t have to.
“It’s complicated.” I pull my fingers away, choosing instead to hold on to the rail as a current of confusion flies from my head to my heart.
What is going on with me?
“Did he ever talk about Alex?” I ask hesitantly, tugging on my braid to keep my fingers from returning to touch Tyler’s skin.
“Sometimes. He looked up to Alex sort of as a father figure or maybe he was trying to replace the brother he lost. But more recently, Ty talked about you.” Her words are uttered so softly I think I’ve misheard as she looks down to the floor.
“Me? Why would he talk about me? He hates me.” And he conspired with Alex. They thought they could just take everything and leave me in the dark.
Without lifting her head, Stacy snaps serious eyes upward to meet mine. I don’t understand the implication behind her stare. “No.” She shakes her head as she swallows quietly. “My son doesn’t hate you.”
I lick my lips and force myself to swallow, processing her words as a ball of jumbled nerves rolls in the pit of my belly.
“Are you going to be here for a bit?” she asks, reaching behind her, grabbing her purse from the lone chair.
“Yes.” I reply in confirmation, hoping to ease the stress on her pretty face. I’ve got nowhere else to be and I still need answers.
“I’ll be back in about an hour. I’ve got to pick up Tre from school.”
“I’ll be here.” I smile tightly.
Stacy pulls her phone out and asks for my number. “I’ll call you so you have my number. Please call me if anything changes.”
Sliding her phone back into her purse after securing my number, Stacy walks out of the room, her steps seemingly a bit lighter and somewhat buoyant.
I use the bathroom and check in with my parents. After my mother offers unsolicited advice matched by thousands of questions as to why I’m still at the hospital, I end the call abruptly and then text her an apology.
My feet stop dead in their tracks when I step out of the bathroom and see Tyler. His eyes are open and his head turned in the direction of the chair. He blinks slowly as if trying to focus. The soft material of white covering his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh.
I creep over quietly, unsure about his coherency, wondering what his reaction will be to seeing me here again. The last time he was so parched; he seemed only concerned about a drink of water to moisten his cotton mouth and dry, cracked lips.
Tyler moves his head and stares at the ceiling for a long while until his eyes close. He doesn’t ask for water, he doesn’t utter a single word, but I get the feeling he’s disappointed for some reason.
Once he’s asleep again, I take full advantage and walk over to the window sill to get a better look at the photographs. Staring at the images captured, I’m overcome with the knowledge that I don’t know Tyler at all. Not really.
Minutes pass by, turning the hands of time into hours. I find myself sitting quietly in the chair, reading on my phone. I’ve answered a few texts from my mom and one from my dad. Guilt washes over me when I decline Pam’s call yet again.
When I look up, I’m stunned to find bluish-green eyes staring at me unwaveringly.
I stare back.
“Hi.” I smile and rise to my feet, sliding my phone into my back pocket and reaching for the metal rail.
His eyes smile in return as he attempts to move his lips.
“How are you feeling?”
A grunt escapes from his chest.
“Are you thirsty?”
Tyler blinks slowly, his lids displaying a negative response.
Opening his mouth, parting his full lips, he squeaks a single word. “Why?”
Why? The utterance is packed with a million questions.
“You were in an accident. Do you remember?” I ask cautiously, reaching down to touch him, running my fingers over his warm skin in preparation for his response. “You got hurt pretty badly.”
With each slow blink, Tyler’s eyes scan every square inch of the room as if he’s trying to process my statement. Then he looks directly at me.
“Al—”
I swallow hard as he waits for my reply.
His eyes widen as he repeats, “Al—”
My heart breaks for the amount of effort it’s taking for Tyler to speak my husband’s name.
My chin quivers and tears fill my eyes as I shake my head. “I’m so sorry.”
A gut-wrenching groan mingled with a deep inhale release, marring Tyler’s serene face. His face crumples and his eyes slam shut. The beeping on the monitor shrieks loudly, erratically.
“It’s okay.” I soothe him. “It’s okay.”
As if trapped in his own body, Tyler’s head thrashes from left to right, but the rest of his long body remains still.
I reach for his hand and squeeze it gently, calming him, reassuring him, comforting him.
Tears slip from the corner of his eyes and race down his cheek. His chest rises quickly with hiccups. It’s as if he’s struggling for air.
I know the feeling all too well.
I run to the sink, grab a paper towel and wipe his cheeks, feeling off kilter as my fingers touch his face.
“You’re going to be okay. You have to be.”
Unfocused eyes, light years away, gaze into mine. I think he’s gone back into his own little world until he whispers with a raspy voice.
“Y—you,” he breathes as if it’s taking so much effort. “Kay?”
I moisten my lips with a quick swipe of my tongue.
“You…okay?” he whispers yet again.
I collapse into the chair, burying my face in my palms and sob quietly. My shoulders bounce as emotion rips through my body.
“K—”
I can’t stop the deluge from escaping. All the feelings I’ve experienced since that night in the hospital when they, my husband and his best friend, were brought in as John Doe number one and number two gush out of me.
“K—” Tyler’s voice is strained.
“I’m sorry.” I lift my head and show my face as hot fat tears continue to fall. I want him to see how much Alex has hurt me.
I want him to see how much he has hurt me.
I want him to feel my pain.
Tyler’s fingers move to the edge, making their way closer to me. My fingers reach out and link with his, offering something I don’t understand. Sympathy. Compassion. Understanding.
In that instant, one moment in time, something changes, something shifts. A bond is formed.
His grasp on my fingers tightens, slowly bringing our joined hands upward to his mouth. With gentle pressure, he kisses my knuckles. The contact sends an ache through my core and forces my eyes to search his.
What is this?
He keeps his eyes focused on mine until they close and his hand goes lax. I wish I could explain what I see in them, but it’s something I’ve never seen before. From anyone.
“Are you crying?” Stacy asks, breezing into the room with Tre and stopping at the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
I sniffle and wipe my tears, unsure why I feel disappointed to remove my hand from Tyler’s soft hold.
“Nothing’s wrong. He woke up and I told him about Alex.”
The widening of her eyes reveals her surprise.
“You told him?”
I nod, looking up.
“I did.”
“What did he say?” she asks, stepping closer to her son as she runs her fingers through his hair.
“He…he cried…and then asked if I was okay.”
Sympathy spreads across her face. “Oh, my poor boy.”
“Don’t cry, Grandma.”
Stacy and I look at the adorable little boy, Thomas’ son.
“I’m crying happy tears, Tre,” she lies, patting the child on the head.
I watch the interaction carefully and smile.
“Why does he keep doing that?”
My eyebrows furrow. “Why does he keep doing what?”
“Tyler. He waits until he’s alone with you. I swear it’s like he only wants to talk to you.”
I cast a quick glance at Tyler before looking back to his mom. “No, I don’t think that’s true. I just happen to be here when he wakes up.”
“Then you can’t ever leave.” She chuckles lightly.
Looking at the clock on the wall, the second hand moving quickly, I say, “Actually I do need to get going.”
“Are you coming back tomorrow?”
I smile awkwardly. Taking hold of the bar, I lower it carefully and lean over. I place a quick kiss on Tyler’s cheek then whisper in his ear.
***
I don’t return for a month.
***
THERE’S A BRISK chill in the morning air which matches how I feel on the inside. It’s been thirty-four days since I last sat next to Tyler. Thirty-four days since I last held his hand. Thirty-four days since I last saw his face.
“Why don’t you just go there already?” Pam asks, walking quickly, breathlessly beside me on our five-mile trek around town.
I chug water from my bottle and shrug.
“I’m sure he’s up now.”
“He is.” Guilt washes over me. “I had Odessa find out for me.”
“Then go see him!”
I exhale a deep breath. “And what exactly am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, hey! Sorry I ditched you for a month after I broke the bad news.’ I don’t think so!”
“You have to see him at some point. Just walk in there and talk to him.”
“I can’t,” I refute. “He’s being moved to a rehab center.”
“The one on Belleview?”
I shake my head. “No. The one on Fordham.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen in disgust. “That place is gross.”
“I know.” My heart drops a little.
“Well that explains the sudden change in our route!” she laughs, teasing me. “I’d go out of my way to see him, too!”
“Cut it out. That’s not why! Have you noticed how fat I am? If I were pregnant, one might think I’m carrying the kid in my ass!”
“Hah!” she laughs. “First of all, you’re not fat whatsoever. You have an ass. Do you know how many people would kill for that ass?”
“Not Odessa!” My legs quicken their pace to the point I’m almost jogging. Almost.
Silence becomes the third participant as we pass the Catholic school while young children step out of their parents’ cars and walk to meet their teachers. I see Father Greene wave, greeting all the families before he waves to me. With a toss of my hand in the air, I reply swiftly and then redirect my attention to the road ahead of me just to avoid looking at the church where Alex’s funeral was held.
“So have you finished yet?” Pam finally asks, giving me a raised brow.
I glance at my friend and nod quickly. “Just about. There’s only a little bit left.”
Each day for the last month, I’ve gone through Alex’s things, donating most of it to Goodwill or the local shelter. I haven’t decided what to do with his motorcycles, work trucks or trailer. His crew has been keeping up with the contract at the assisted living complex and should be there for quite some time.
Since our divorce was never finalized and Alex’s will has not yet been read, I’m going about, doing things any wife who’s lost her husband would do.
Out of sight. Out of mind.
Pam and I end our walk with a quick stop by Susie’s Sweets for coffee and a freshly made lemon scone. Finding an empty bistro-style table for two outside, we sit and wait for the server to come by.
“I like your hair like that,” Pam comments, eyeing my slicked back hair.
I run my hand over my short ponytail and tug at the end.
“It feels weird. I had long hair for so long.”
“But you didn’t like it long.” Her lips tip into a smirk.
“I know… but Alex did.”
I ignore the look on her face as we chat about nothing until our treats arrive.
Dunking my pastry into my coffee, I scan the street and notice an ambulance at the stop light. In the minivan following close behind, I see a familiar face. My eyes widen at the sight of Stacy who catches my eyes on a double take. The passenger window rolls down slowly and I rise, making my way over to the idling vehicle.
“Hi.” I smile.
“I’ve been trying to call you.” She glances ahead at the light and then back to me.
“Sorry. I’ve been really busy lately,” I lie, looking into her vehicle at the empty water bottles on the floor. I feel horrible knowing that I’ve been ignoring her calls, choosing to decline or send them all to voicemail. In the beginning, I listened to a few of the messages she left, but after a while, I noticed when she called, she chose not to leave a message even though I sent it to voicemail.
“Ty’s doing a lot better.”
I see her genuine smile and reply, “That’s great. I’m happy for him.”
“You should come see him.”
I sigh quickly and add a shake of my head. “No, that’s not a good idea.”
“He’s been asking for you.” Her tone is forceful and carries a hint of reproach.
“He has?” I gasp. “Why?”
“Karrie,” she sings my name slowly before glancing at the traffic light.
“Tell him I said hello and that I’m glad he’s doing well.”
The ambulance moves ahead through the green arrow.
“You should come and tell him yourself.” She motions her chin toward the medical vehicle. “He’s right there. They’re transporting him to the rehab facility on Fordham.”
“Yeah, I know.” The second the words escape I realize my error. Stacy knows I’ve been keeping tabs on her son.
The driver of the waiting SUV has lost his patience and honks, earning him a dirty look in Stacy’s rearview mirror.
“He’d be really happy to see you.”
I’m left alone on the side of the road as she turns left on Cherry and right onto Fordham.
“Hey, are you just going to stand there?”
I turn around and glance at Pam, rolling my eyes playfully when I notice she’s now eating my scone.
“I think you’re walking back on your own.” I snatch the small piece that remains.
“Why?”
After taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly through a small opening of my lips. “I’m going to see Tyler.”
“Like that?” Her eyes travel the length of my body and settle on my face.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“At least shower.”
“Why? I’m not trying to impress him.” A snapping sound emerges from my teeth.
“No, but you also don’t want to send him back into a coma.” She pinches her nose and pretends to gag while waving her other hand back and forth, insinuating that I smell badly.
Light laughter fills my belly. “I don’t know why I keep you around!”
“Because you love me.”