Chapter Twenty-Three
Tabitha
WAKING UP FEELS LIKE THE last thing I want to do. Everything hurts, and I feel like I’m being gagged. There’s a tube jammed down my throat, preventing me from speaking. My mouth is so dry, I doubt could speak even if the tube wasn’t in the way.
My head hurts. It’s a combination of sharp and dull pain. I can feel the cuts on my face and the stitches pulling at my skin. It’s like someone stomped my skull repeatedly and might possibly still be at it. My eyes are half crusted shut, and there’s most definitely a split in my lip.
My left arm is in a cast, and so is my right ankle. My right hand instinctively goes to my stomach, but it doesn’t feel tight, like my son would still be in there. I try to sob, but I can’t tell if any tears are falling down my face. I’m completely and utterly broken.
I reach around to find the button that would call a nurse. I need answers. I need to find my son.
Oh God, what happened to Phil?
My hand lands down hard on someone’s head.
Brandon.
He wakes to find me in a panic, my heart rate racing furiously, as I try to rip out my IV.
“Tabby? Oh my God, Tabby!”
He looks like he hasn’t shaved in weeks. He smells like he hasn’t showered in that long as well. Tears are pouring from his beautiful eyes. He realizes what I’m trying to do and grabs my hand and pulls it away from causing any damage. He grabs the button and pushes it as he shouts.
“Nurse!” He turns to me, seeing that I’m still panicking. “Shh, baby, it’s going to be all right. We’ll get a nurse in here to help you, but you’ve gotta calm down. Okay?”
I nod, as his words soothe me enough to calm down. My breathing goes back to normal, and my heart rate slows back down.
Nurses run in, and Brandon is ushered out of the way. One nurse shines a light in my eyes, while another checks all my vitals and the connections to everything I’m attached to. The tube is carefully pulled from my throat, and a pitcher of water is brought to my bedside tray. They leave to find the doctor, and I’m finally alone with my husband.
Brandon joins me back at my side and reaches over to fill a plastic cup with water from the pitcher.
“Take only small sips for now, okay?” He orders as he hands me the cup after I get the top head of the bed lifted up into a sitting position.
I sip daintily at the ice water silently, as I try to gather my thoughts. I’m confused and worried. I’m scared to find out the things I don’t yet know. My heart cracks, even before I ask for answers that will surely shatter it to pieces.
Would not knowing hurt less?
I can’t go on without knowing, so I hand the cup back to Brandon and ask the first thing on my list of things I need to know. “Our son?” My voice sounds as scratchy as my throat feels.
“He made it,” Brandon whispers with a teary-eyed smile. “He came out without a scratch, or any complications.”
“Can I see him?”
Brandon nods. “I’ll call Beth and have her bring both him and Mattie up this afternoon.”
“He’s not here?” I’m confused.
“No, they released him already.”
“Why? Wh-what day is it?”
“It’s Thursday, baby.” Brandon reaches for my hand, and I let him take it.
“Why would they release a baby, healthy or not the day after birth?”
Brandon’s faces falls, and I can see him fighting all the emotions he must be feeling to stay strong for me. “Tabs, you’ve been out for three weeks. We were worried. I thought I was going to lose you.” He chokes on the last of his words.
He looks tortured, and tears fall down his handsome bearded face. I let go of his hand and reach up to cup the side of his face, using my thumb to wipe away the wetness from beneath his eye.
“Hey,” I whisper hoarsely. “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I was so scared, baby. I saw the truck, and you weren’t conscious, and—”
I shush him by dragging my finger over his lips. He kisses my fingertip then stands up to kiss my chapped and busted lips. It burns but soothes at the same time. When he pulls away, I reach for his hand again, and he kisses my fingers before bringing them back to the side of his face. We stare silently at each other, while we both let our unreleased emotions free.
Once I’ve come to terms with all this new information, I ask the last thing I have left to ask. “How’s Phil?”
Brandon’s face falls and so does a pit at the bottom of my stomach. “He didn’t make it, Tabs. He was gone before help even arrived, killed on impact.”
“Di-Did I miss the funeral?”
Brandon nods apologetically. “It was two weeks ago. I’m so sorry you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”
I push back my tears and hold my broken heart together just a little longer, to ask one more question. “And the other driver?”
“Was drunk,” he answers, trying unsuccessfully to mask his anger. “He didn’t even get a scratch.”
His words cut deep. I’m not sure what I wanted the answer to be, but that was probably the worst one I could receive. I would never wish pain on another human being, but in this moment I consider it. I’m angry that I’m not mad. I’m devastated. Sobs rip violently from my chest, and Brandon jumps up to wrap me as carefully as possible in his arms. He holds me as I weep for Phil. He was family, and I loved him dearly. I’ll miss him constantly, but there’s a small comfort in knowing that now he gets to see Mathew again.