“He’s in pretty bad shape,” Calvin said, standing around Mama, Daddy, and me, filling us in on all the information. “The propeller sliced him pretty bad up his side. The doctors said he might lose two of his fingers. It also slightly hit his throat, but…I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. In a blink of an eye, everything changed. We were just out on the water having a good time. Everything was fine. But now…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, like Daddy always did. “Now everything’s changed, and all we can do is wait to see by how much.”
Mama and Daddy wandered off to get coffee for everyone, since we had a long night ahead of us. After coffee, they drove Mrs. Boone to the closest motel for the night to rest. In the corner, Rudolph was having a fit, blaming himself for the accident. Oliver stayed by his side, telling him otherwise. I nudged Calvin with questioning eyes.
“Brooks
saved Rudolph from going overboard. The storm rocked the boat, and Rudolph almost fell overboard, but Brooks managed to pull him back. After he yanked him away from the edge, the boat rocked again, sending Brooks over.”
Wow…
“Rudolph is having a hard time with it—blaming himself. It was a freak accident, though. There was no one and nothing to blame except timing.”
After a while, I found a chair in the corner and curled up in a ball, waiting.
As I waited, I saw and heard everything. Every person’s movement, every person’s voice, every object in the room. Everything felt so close, so real since I’d left home. If a nurse dropped a pen, my head would shoot up to where the sound came from.
It was harder than I’d imagined, leaving home, but it was even harder not knowing if Brooks was all right.
So whenever the devil tried to take over my mind, I closed myself and took a few breaths, remembering that our love was louder than my past moments.
“He’s out of surgery,” I overheard the doctor telling Brooks’ parents. I sat up straighter to eavesdrop. “He’s doing okay. He was very lucky that the cut to his side wasn’t too deep. Any deeper and we could’ve lost him.”
“Oh my God,” Brooks’ mother muttered, tears filling her eyes.
“The troubling news was with his hand.” The doctor shifted around in his shoes before crossing his arms over his white coat. “I’m sorry. We tried our best to save his two fingers, but the damage to them when they hit the propeller was too great. We were hoping to salvage them both, but were unable to. We had to amputate them both in order to improve the overall hand function.”
Which hand? I wondered, my stomach in knots.
“Which hand?” Jamie called out from behind his parents.
The doctor raised an eyebrow, looking over at Jamie. “I’m sorry?”
“I said which hand.”
With hesitation, the doctor looked at Brooks’ parents, unsure if he should say anything in front of us all. When they gave him the right to speak freely in the room, he said the left hand. The room all groaned together.
“Shit,” Rudolph hissed, pounding his hand against the wall. “Shit!”
Brooks used his left hand for frets on his guitar. He’d be unable to play with his injury, and everyone in the room felt that devastation.
“I know how hard this can be, being his career, but we’re really happy to have him still here with us. I fear it might be nearly impossible for him to play the guitar again. With his throat injury singing might be tough, but I believe he’ll fall back into place with his vocals over time. It will be hard, but I think with the right physical therapy and vocal work, he should be able to get his voice back to normal.” The doctor gave everyone a sad smile. “He’ll probably be resting for a while, but when it’s time to see him, I’ll have the nurses come get you.”
As he left, the room went silent, except for the sound of Rudolph pounding against the wall and cursing. “Shit, shit, shit.”
When they moved Brooks to another room we were allowed to see him two people at a time. I held back, waiting to be the last one in to visit. He was asleep when I entered the room, and I was somewhat thankful. I stood in the corner of the room, watching him sleep. His breaths were heavy and seemed hard to swallow. The scar across his neck ran from his collarbone up to his jawline. His left hand was bandaged up, and he had a few bruises on his body, but he was alive. Therefore, nothing else mattered.
“You won’t hurt him,” a nurse told me as she checked his vitals.
I hadn’t moved from the corner for the past thirty minutes I’d been allowed into the room.
She smiled. “If you hold his right hand, you won’t hurt him. They gave him some sleeping pills to help him rest up a bit. He’s been a bit restless while sleeping, which makes it harder for him to heal. So, he’ll be asleep for some time. But, if you wanted to sit beside him…” She gestured toward the chair to Brooks’ right side. “You can hold his hand.”
Nodding, I moved to his side, sat down, and slowly locked his fingers with mine. I’m here, Brooks. I’m here.
The nurse grinned. “I’ll be back to check on him in a while.”
Once she left, I scooted in closer and laid my head on his arm. His chest rose and fell every few seconds, and I counted each time it happened. I moved in even closer, wanting him to feel my heat against his skin, wanting him to know I was there. I’m here.
I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, because if I did, I worried he’d stop breathing.