CHINA
Now I understand the saying, shit rolls downhill.
As my emotional dam bursts, I let the tears flow freely and fast. Whiskey appearing in that chapel was like an apparition. Dad was standing there, caring for me, watching over me inside the fog of my mind as I fell apart. That was days ago, and now I’m back to my usual hold-it-in self.
Whiskey had me sedated for the rest of the day as he watched over Cas. Thank fuck. I needed it, I guess. I needed to let go and let everything take over; at least that’s what Dr. Callie said. To top it off? Over the past week, Wyatt’s body has decided to shut down a few more times to give me a mental freakin’ breakdown.
Thanks, Wyatt.
Like I can take any more pressure, asshole. Those bloody monitors go off, lighting up like Christmas trees in Times Square, causing every doctor, nurse, and sidekick to show up. His heart has stopped twice, and it’s making me crazy. I think I’m about to lose my ever-loving shit.
Yesterday, it was calm and peaceful, running up to that ticker quitting again. We thought he was dreaming. He must have had a nightmare, throwing him into a panic attack of sorts, tossing him into an irregular heart rate. It was boom! Defib and paddles. Sleeping was not sleeping after all, brother. Minutes later, he was back, and I began breathing. Now I stay awake all hours of the day, just so I can keep track of my big brother.
Since our moment in the chapel, Jamieson has come by a lot more. He brought me by a jump bag this morning. He took me to lunch as Sali watched Wyatt, but we didn’t talk much. He never hangs around long, and whenever it’s a point I think we could have a heart to heart, he’s gone. Something is going on, but I don’t know what it is. It’s a secret. Whiskey is a secret type of guy, which means little China Doll is expected to keep the peace, smile nicely, and be sweet to Whiskey. He avoids both of us like we’re a burden, or like a date with the gynaecologist.
It’s crazy. I mean, Wyatt is the one here on the bed. Mom is…well, let’s not get into that. Dad is dead, and I’m alone. My biggest worry right now is me. I’m trying to keep my control together so I don’t have a complete breakdown. It won’t help Wyatt any if I’m laid up in a loony bin.
Since this began I’ve completely and unequivocally avoided anything that has to do with Mom, Dad, and Circe. Don’t get me wrong, I know Wyatt would kick my ass if he thought I wasn’t caring for her, so I am, but I just can’t handle giving her updates everyday on his non-progression. So I told the Doc and Sali to keep her in the dark about Wyatt’s condition. I’ve asked them to keep me abreast of her needs, and I made sure her medical bills were being cared for by Crown. Jamieson didn’t like it at first, but I was adamant. I’m doing that whether he likes it or not. She may not be a Crown, but she’s important to Wyatt, and that’s what counts.
Fuck!
When will shit stop?
I’m sick of it falling in my lap.
What I wouldn’t give to be on my bike, riding the blacktop and scraping my knees on the corners. Maybe I’ll get Whiskey to ride my street bike over. I’ve been the one on lockdown in this sterile jail, and I need a moment out for good behavior. I’m itching to touch the pavement. A release of endorphins will help with the tears. I’ll push them right out at a hundred and ninety miles an hour.
My girlfriends still pop over, but they have to go through so much security, you’d think they were visiting the fucking Pope. Whiskey sucks at sticking around and making me feel better about the whole situation, which I understand. Honestly, he hasn’t lived with the family…
Fuck, now there’s a joke—family. That’s gone. Like poof, missing, disappear-o, finito. I sit here, hoping for Casper to wake up, to tell me everything will be fine, and it was all a bad dream. But our family will never be whole. It’s gone. Now it’s just us.
“All I need is a sign, Wyatt. Just one word.” I’m feeling so alone that I talk to him like he can hear me. Screw that. I’m not alone. That’s the wrong analogy. I’m fucking separated on an undiscovered island, filled with coconut trees and ugly fucking monkeys, alone.
I’ve read every magazine, watched all the soap operas I can handle, and even flicked to some of the who’s your daddy shows just to bypass the despair. It works about as well as dousing my heart in arsenic. The real shit part is, I can’t really leave this place either. I’m chained to his bed until he wakes up. If.
Dammit. Do I have to find another goddamn casket? I’ve had enough of caskets, urns, and bullshit. My twenty-first birthday was supposed to be a celebration. In mere weeks, I’m an adult in all the ways that matter. I wasn’t looking for new responsibilities and cares. Getting out on my own, away from Mom and Dad, now feels selfish and horrid. Desperately, I wish it were different.
At least Dad would have told me “Doll, everything works out.”
Not this time, Dad. You didn’t work out, and Mom is a reminder that I have something else to deal with. She’s on ice, literally, and until we figure out what’s going on with my brother, she’ll stay that way.
Showing up about an hour ago, Jamieson, as usual, was off like a shot. Excuses are all he needs to vacate this place.
Before leaving, I asked him to bring back my ride. Thankfully, he said he’d have it over this afternoon, so maybe I’ll try to run out later while he hangs with Wyatt. At least he understands being on lockdown. Sitting in Cali, where there’s no snow, he has to be having a meltdown. I haven’t hit the track in weeks, and I’m itching for a release. I can just imagine a guy who’s used to the cold, sitting still in ninety-eight degree weather. It must be excruciating.
I’ve also exhausted my three best friends. If it isn’t Cathryne popping over with food, it’s Harlow, trying to catch a sidelong glance at Whiskey. She’s always had a thing for him. I’ve ran them ragged, having them bring in Starbucks. It’s a necessity. The coffee here isn’t something I’d put in my engine, never mind my stomach. And don’t even get me started on what they consider edible. When Wyatt wakes, he’s going to be hungry as a dog and looking for nourishment, of which he won’t find here. The food, or what they try to pass off as food, is rubbery chicken, overcooked rice, baked unknown pastas, and wilted salads.
The take-out boys have brought me sushi from Kato’s, carbonara from Tulio’s, and stuffed salmon from Polar Bear twice this week alone. Feeling bad they have to traverse the overstuffed officers, paparazzi, and professional reporters, just to bring it to me, I’ve decided they’re pretty damn brave. They leave here wilted and concerned they’ll be arrested. Crown gave direct instructions to keep everyone out, except those with signed waivers. There’s no one to tell me not to spend, not to be extravagant, and no one to tell me to go to school.
Bed.
Don’t date.
Don’t this, don’t that.
No China, can’t China.
I’d rather you not, China.
Argh!
“Miss Crown?” Turning toward the partially open door, Sali, Wyatt’s daytime nurse, enters. Because of the circumstances surrounding the crash, the popularity of the family, the team, and Wyatt directly, the hospital setup specific nurses and doctor’s so that comings and goings could be monitored.
“Hey, Sali.” I stretch out a bit in the Barcalounger. Pulling the light covers around my shoulders, I tuck my feet in to keep warm.
“How are things today?” she asks, looking over the monitors, the lines, the incisions, and under the bandage at his head.
He still looks like shit. I won’t be the one to tell him that, but he does.
I’ve seen worse damage from accidents on the track, but none have scared the living hell out of me like this has. The bandage on his head is covering the ten-inch scar that will run along the side of his head. It’ll be hidden under his hair when it grows back, thankfully. The swelling has gone down since last week, but there’s still no changes in his condition. Dr. Callie has decided to keep him in a drug-induced sleep for a while longer. I hope to hell that the brother I know comes out on the other side of this. Or, if he is changed, then he’s controlled.
“Well, I’m still bored stiff and looking for something to pass the time. How are things out there?” I motion toward the front of the building, where I know the masses are still gathered, awaiting news on the Crown family’s condition.
“Same,” she says.
“I figured as much.”
Sali clicks the foot pedals on the mobile bed, turning to me with a smile. “Dr. Callie requested a new MRI and CAT scan today. We’re look for changes. Do you want to come along?”
I’ve gone with Wyatt on these in the past, but for some reason, I don’t want to today.
“No. I’ll wait here, if that’s okay? How long will you be gone?”
Attaching the IV pole and the monitor systems to the gurney, Sali opens the door to the hallway. “I don’t think there’s anyone else there waiting, so we should be back in about an hour or so. Why don’t you go get a shower and something to eat?”
“Thanks. I just might.” I can’t stand the showers here. There’s no pressure, and the food, as I’ve already stated, is something I wouldn’t hand to the homeless.
Being as civil as I can, I smile, rising from the chair. Hopefully, Dr. Callie will see something that will show progress, because I need my brother back.