Chapter 14
Morgan
I don’t end up driving home until Wednesday morning. My mom convinced me that Alex was stable and I could take a couple of days to talk to my professors and figure out what I would be missing.
I drive home first so I can get my wits about me. My mom is almost always the calm, cool rational one in the family, so I’m hoping she’ll influence me.
When I arrive, she’s got lunch ready and beer in the fridge for when I return. For all her faults, she really is good at supporting me in this situation. And encouraging bad habits, like using alcohol as a coping mechanism. We’re more similar than I thought.
“Have you been in to see him today?” I ask her.
“No. I went Sunday and drove Agnes in on Monday. She’s been so emotional, I offered to drive her.”
“Did you speak to Alex? Was he awake?”
“Just briefly. He’s still running a fever. He looks dreadful, Morgan, so be prepared when you go in there.”
I nod.
“Also, don’t you let Alex or his family bully you into anything. I’m friends with Agnes, but I won’t let her act out on you.”
“What, exactly, do you think they’re going to do, Mom?” I almost laugh at her, but I hold it in because I don’t want to get smacked in the mouth.
“She’s clingy and she is holding onto that marriage proposal with both hands.”
I groan. I won’t break up with him while he’s lying in that bed, but I sure as hell won’t let the Sanford Family think I’m signing up to be one of them. And even if I did want to marry the boy, it wasn’t a proposal.
“I think I can handle it. But thank you.”
Mom pats my hand and starts cleaning up the kitchen. I put my dishes in the sink and look around for my keys. It’s time to face the Sanfords.
“You want me to come with you?” Mom offers.
“No. I’m good. I’ll be back soon.”
“Call me if you need me.”
I may very well have to take her up on that. Would she still come to get me if the call came from the county jail? Because I assaulted Agnes Sanford for being an overbearing Southern twat? Something in her tone tells me she would.
Unfortunately, the drive is short. I try to script some neutral things to say before I exit the car, but it does no good.
When I arrive at Alex’s room, the door is shut. I knock, hoping I’m not disturbing his rest. The door opens and Mrs. Sanford is standing there. Her husband is behind her and a doctor is beside the bed.
“Oh, sorry. I can come back,” I say, taking a step backwards.
“Nonsense, Morgan. Come on in, girl,” Agnes says, grabbing my arm and dragging me into the room.
I look at Alex and try not to flinch. He looks almost green. He’s sweaty and his face his frowning. I think he’s asleep. Things must be very bad for a person to frown while sleeping.
Alex’s parents aren’t the touchy-feely type, so neither attempts to hug me. Mr. Sanford nods at me and then looks back at the doctor. I must have interrupted a conversation.
“As I was saying,” the doctor starts, as he checks Alex’s bandages, “I don’t think we can wait any longer. He’s not reacting to the antibiotics like we want. If we don’t remove the arm soon, things could get very bad.”
Shit. He’s going to lose his arm.
“Okay. If you think that’s what we’re up against, get it scheduled,” states Mr. Sanford.
“Good. I’ll get the OR booked and prepped.”
The doctor leaves and the three of us are left standing there, speechless.
I clear my throat. “Can I do anything?” I ask, knowing there’s nothing to be done.
“No, dear. We’re just thankful you’re here. Alex, well, he hasn’t had many visitors, other than the family and some people from church. Most of his friends are back on their campuses.”
I scowl. “What about Darryl and that group of guys?”
Agnes shakes her head and I feel my blood pressure start to rise. Those turd goblins haven’t been in to see him? Some friends they are. I wish I could say I was surprised.
I look over at Alex and my heart goes out to him. His only support system consists of his parents and their friends.
How did he end up without any peers that give a fuck? How did he end up with a girlfriend that doesn’t particularly care to be around him, but doesn’t dislike him enough to break it off?
Maybe that’s why he suggested we get married. I was the only one left that he thought might stick around. That’s just sad.
I walk over and kiss his forehead.
“I’m sorry this is happening, Alex,” I whisper into his hair.
There’s nothing else to be done but sit and wait. Finally, a team of people come to collect him. We’re led to a small waiting room near the OR. A nurse tells us someone will be out to update us periodically.
After a while of sitting there, I end up calling my mom and asking her to come, which she gladly does. Hours go by and we hear nothing.
Eventually, the surgeon comes out to speak to the Sanfords. He says that it went well and Alex should make a full recovery. He’ll have a long road ahead of learning to live without his arm, from the elbow down, but he’s out of the woods.
The relief is visible on their faces. Agnes thanks the doctor and then hugs her husband. Alex is going to be okay.
“Can we see him?” she asks.
“Alex is in recovery right now. He’s going to be out of it for a while, yet. I’ll have someone come get you when we’re ready to cart him back to his room.”
“Okay, thank you,” she says and the doctor leaves.
“Come on, Morgan. You’ve been here all day. Let’s get you fed.”
“You’re not staying?” Agnes asks.
Her tone is almost accusatory. Luckily, my mother steps in so that I don’t make a bad situation worse.
“Morgan’s tired. She got up early to drive home to be here for Alex. He’s asleep and can’t have visitors, so I’m going to take my daughter and make sure she gets what she needs.”
She says it in that sweet Southerner way, but she’s not mincing words. Go, Mom!
“Oh, I just thought she’d want to be here when her fiancé wakes, is all.”
Aw, hell. I was so close to escaping without having this conversation, but Agnes went and pulled out the big guns.
“Mrs. Sanford, I’m not sure what Alex told you, but we are not engaged.”
She cocks her head and looks at me, confused. Should I keep talking? Did she not understand me? Did I not speak slowly and use small words? Ooh, Morgan is a little bitchy when she’s hungry.
“But—but Alex told me you were getting married.”
I smile politely, trying to make light of this tense moment. “Yes, I’m sure he did. But Alex never asked me to marry him. We are not engaged. It’s not something even on my radar right now.”
I add that last part to make sure she knows there will be no engagement in the near future. I leave out the part that hell will freeze over before I agree to marry her son. I pat myself on the back for not being a total bitch. Perhaps there’s hope for my soul, after all.
“I see. Well. I guess you and Alex need to talk before you head back to school, yes?”
I nod. “Yes. We do need to talk. But not tonight. It’s late. If he does wake up and is coherent, you can tell him I’ll be back in the morning. Come on, Mom.”
I grab her hand and leave Alex’s parents standing in the waiting room. I wait for the guilt to consume me, but it doesn’t. I simply told the truth and that was that. Too bad I can’t be quite so blunt with Alex in the morning.
***
I visit the hospital several times on both Thursday and Friday. Alex is always groggy or asleep when I enter his room.
Once, I got the feeling he was pretending to be asleep. His cheeks were wet, like he’d been crying. I would cry, too, if I had lost my arm and my mother was as nuts as Agnes—not that the two are at all related. I just don’t care for the imperious woman.
Today is Saturday and he’s up and eating breakfast when I knock on the door. He gives a small smile when I wave.
“Hey,” I say, walking to the chair beside his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Like I got hit by a Mack truck.”
“I can only imagine.”
He nods and takes a bite of toast.
“I have to head back to campus today—”
“So soon?” he interrupts. The look on his face is one of shock.
“Well, I’ve been here since Wednesday. You’re stable now and I have tons of work to do.”
That sounded way better in my head. Now it sounds more like Yeah, I know you almost died and all, but I’ve got some homework to finish.
He takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. I notice his hand is unsteady. I’m sure his body is going to take a while to heal and feel good again.
“You don’t have to go back, Morgan.”
My eyes narrow. I can’t help it. “Yes, I do. I need to finish my degree.”
“And then what?”
Damn it. Straight to the heart of it. “I don’t know. I have time to figure it out. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
His eyes are big and his face looks panicked. I notice his heartrate beeping on the monitor increases. Is that bad? That’s bad, I think. Is that other number his blood pressure rising? Shit. Shit. Shit.
Of course, he’ll probably stroke out if I tell him it’s over. I’m like a living, breathing bad luck charm these days.
“Hey, relax, Alex. I don’t think it’s good to get yourself worked up like that.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve been in this bed forever and you have this look on your face like …”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like what you’re going to say will end me.”
Jesus Christ. Dramatic much?
I let out a nervous gurgle. Because that’s what I do when I’m nervous.
“I, uh, well, I was just thinking, you know, since we typically take a break at the start of every school year, to be free to … to focus on school and stuff … and not, uh, feel like we have to maintain things from a distance—I was wondering if that’s what we’re doing again?”
I’m the worst. Officially. Half of that didn’t even sound like it made sense. And now I’m asking him if we’re on a break when I know damn well that we’re not?
Alex’s breathing starts coming out faster and his heartrate jumps.
“Hey, hey, calm down,” I tell him. I put my hand on his, trying to comfort him.
“You’re breaking up with me? When I almost died? Are you serious right now, Morgan?”
I shake my head. “No, no. I was just asking about the break thing. That’s what we typically do. You know what, forget I said anything. Just, be here and rest and get better and forget I opened my mouth. I was just checking.”
My chest feels constricted. My words go against everything I want right now. But I refuse to be the cause of his distress. Maybe in a few weeks, when he’s feeling better. Yes, definitely. I can wait for him to start healing. It’s the least I can do.
My retraction seems to placate Alex. His body relaxes and his breathing sounds normal.
“Okay,” he finally says. “Will you stay until I fall asleep? I hate being so alone all the time.”
That’s right, Alex, hand me another dose of guilt because, since Agnes isn’t around, I haven’t had my daily quota. Let me sit and simmer in it until I’m no longer functioning.
“Of course,” I say, squeezing his hand, all the while the little voice inside me is screaming at me for being such a coward. For once, I don’t argue back.