“How about we go together, and you wait in the lobby for a few while I make peace with Adam? Whether or not he understands, I’ll be able to say what I need to say. This isn’t so much about you as it is my need to do what’s right.”
I think his idea might be best. I’m not sure Adam will know him, but Brody going alone rings as a better idea than the two of us showing up together. “Okay, I think your idea is the best way to handle this.”
Brody leans over and kisses my cheek. “Thank you,” he says. “What do you think the odds are of my clothes being dry?”
I chuckle. “I hung them up when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and turned the air vent on. If not, you wouldn’t believe this, but there is a dryer in the basement of this building.”
“Are you being snarky?” he asks, flicking my ponytail.
“I would never.”
Brody tugs at my hair, running his fingers through the ends. “I loved your hair when it was red. I love it now too, but why did you cover it up?”
I take a sip of my coffee and shrug. “I don’t like to stand out.”
“I don’t think most would think of your hair as standing out. I think it defines you—it’s who you are, and no one should see you differently for being true to yourself.”
“I can tell you have a tween daughter that you lecture on a weekly basis,” I tell him.
Brody fists his hand and pulls his elbow into his chest. “Yes, I’m doing this dad shit right.”
I huff a laugh through my nose. “You’re ridiculous.”
The moment I found out Adam had woken from his coma, I found a back exit out of the hotel, called a cab, and used the rest of my money to fly home, leaving my new “husband” behind in Vegas. If only the saying of “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” held the truth. I didn’t arrive home until the next morning because of a lack of available flights, leaving me with no option other than a red eye. It was noon before I made it to the hospital. I stopped there before going home, knowing the situation there would not be a friendly one. I need a dose of happiness before facing anger. Adam was awake. There was nothing more I could ask for.
I took the stairs to his room, arriving out of breath and sweating. His parents and sister, Tracey, were sitting around his bed, watching him as if he were a living miracle. Adam’s eyes were open, but he was staring forward toward the television.
Hearing very little about the state he woke up, I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I took slow strides into the room, doing my best to catch my breath.
Tracey lifts her head and stands up to greet me. “You’re back,” she said.
I clench my hands into fists within the long sleeves of my coat, and I felt the awkward size of the ring I was still wearing, pinch against my surrounding fingers. I twisted it until it fell loose over my knuckle and squeezed it into my hands so I could secure it in the pocket of my coat before anyone saw it. “I’m back. I’m sorry I didn’t call last week. I—”
“Do not apologize,” Tracey says.
Brian and Carol joined Tracey and offered me a hug, but while they were offering me their undivided attention, it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Adam didn’t turn his head toward the sound of our voices. “I can’t believe he’s awake,” I tell them.
Tracey and her mom give each other a look, and Adam’s dad places his hand on my back. “Come on out into the hallway for a minute, kiddo.”
I knew whatever he had to say would not be good.
It was just him and me. Brian was tall, so he took a seat on a chair in the hallway and took my hands with his to get a more direct look at my face. “As the doctors suspected, Adam has significant brain and spinal cord damage. There could be some improvements over time, but he will probably be bed ridden indefinitely.”
All the hope I hadn’t given up on felt as though someone had stolen it from me—like a punch to the back, stealing my wind. I thought if he woke up, he would go back to—some kind of normal. “So, this is it?”
“He can’t speak, walk, or move anything below his neck,” Adam’s dad tells me, his eyes filling with tears. I didn’t know how anyone could produce the number of tears we have all shed over the last two years, but they must have been coming from a bottomless well.
“Does he know where he is or what’s happened?” I ask, unsure of the answer I want to hear.
“Yes, we think he can understand everything. It’s hard for him to respond, though. We’re working with blinking gestures right now. However, he has moments of blank looks and stares, so we won’t know the extent of his brain activity until the doctors are ready to do more advanced testing.”
“So, what now?” I asked.
Adam’s dad releases my hands and crosses his arms over his chest, breaking eye-contact with me. “I’m not sure. We’re trying to figure things out. A nursing facility will be very expensive. Live-in care isn’t ideal for him with the amount of help he will need and financially, it isn’t any better of an option. We’re hoping we can make something work that will benefit him the most.”
What if they couldn’t figure it out? It was the only question I had in mind. Would they have to let him rot? I couldn’t understand why insurance wouldn’t cover the medical expenses needed, but I knew it had already been two years of medical care too. “If I can help in any way—”
“Journey, this isn’t something you need to be concerned with, okay? Why don’t you go visit with him,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.
