Aftershocks (37 page)

Sometime around four in the morning, Wyatt got into bed, wrapped his arms around me, and I was finaly able to fal asleep.

***

“We had a scare last night,” she said, and my heart jumped into my throat. My hand instinctively found Wyatt’s and gripped it tight.

“He’s fine, but at one point his heart stopped. He was out for a few minutes.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, the panic clear in my tone.

She sighed, and I could see she was exhausted as she ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Abby. He’s had a lot of trauma, so his body might not know how to handle things. They’l keep monitoring him and keep him in the ICU to make sure he stays stable. If he makes it through tonight with no issues, they’l probably move him to his own room.”

I nodded, almost glad that I hadn’t known about him coding when it was happening. I felt Wyatt’s arms move around me and leaned against him for support afraid I might fal over without him.

“He’l be okay,” he whispered in my ear.

“The good news is that he has minimal sweling where he hit his head, so they feel he’s out of the woods for any brain injuries,” my mom said then, and I was never so glad that she was a nurse.

That day I spent as much time as I could at Connor’s bedside holding his hand, talking to him and praying, rotating my time with his parents and Jordan. During the times I wasn’t in with him, I sat in the waiting room with Wyatt, holding his hand, but not realy talking. I couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about being on the other side of things or if he remembered just how recently I’d been in a similar state as I’d sat waiting to know for sure that he would be okay. With Wyatt we’d known fairly soon that he would live, but there was a more long-term fear that settled around us as the fact that he’d tried to kil himself pushed its way to surface.

I remembered living in fear for months that he would slip back into his depressed state and do something rash. I feared every day might be his last and spent more energy than I had making him realize how special and loved he was. I relished the good days and feared the bad ones. It was a slow torture, but Wyatt had survived.

He’d slowly returned to me and was strong enough to reverse roles and be my rock as I crumbled to pieces, feeling helpless and despondent. There were also many times that Jack sat on my other side, holding my hand, the two of them supporting me during one of the worst days of my life. Jack came by several times during his shift, and looked crestfalen each time we reported that there had been no change. Then he would sit, take my hand and squeeze it just enough so I knew he was there for me.

At ten o’clock, we were asked to leave, so I repeated the same routine as I had the night before, only Wyatt was with me. As we lay in bed with Wyatt’s arms around me I started to cry. I could hear fireworks going off al over town, and it sounded like a war zone. Most everyone in the world was watching the bal drop in Times Square and cheering as the year came to a close. I was too sad to even think about being happy about a year ending and a new one beginning. It had been a good year when it was al said and done especialy because it was the year I had met Connor. To have him ripped away from me so soon was just cruel.

Wyatt did the only thing he could in that moment. He let me cry, but he held me tight, puling me back against him, so I could feel the warmth of his body. We both knew it wouldn’t change anything, but just having him there gave me the smalest bit of comfort and alowed me to get through the night.

The only change that New Year’s Day brought was that Connor was admitted to a room on the sixth floor. Friends and classmates stopped by, but Connor’s parents politely told them that they couldn’t visit until he was awake. I knew they were stil holding out hope that at any moment he would wake up. We were al holding on to whatever we could at that point.

I sat watch by Connor’s bedside throughout the morning. I watch his eyes and his hands for any sign of movement. I watched his chest moving up and down, rhythmicaly and listened to the monitors for any change, but everything always stayed the same.

At noon, I stepped out to go to the cafeteria with Wyatt. As we emerged from the elevator, we ran right into Faith and Rich. They were heading up to see Connor, but Wyatt coldly told them they wouldn’t be able to, so they folowed us to the cafeteria. I didn’t particularly want to talk to them but didn’t have the energy to deal with teling them to go away. I wished Wyatt would tel them off, especialy since Rich was one of the people who’d been so cruel to him the year before, but I don’t think he wanted to be rude given the situation. It was incredibly big of him.

We sat down with our trays, and Faith started talking immediately. I don’t think she truly gripped the severity of the situation. As soon as she opened her mouth, I knew I would regret letting her do so.

“So, you know about Alexis, right?” She said it like she had juicy gossip to share. Was she realy that clueless?

“What?” I asked with no emotion in my voice whatsoever. I knew what she was going to say.

“Wel, she only told me, but she’s pregnant!” When I didn’t react, she said, “She’s like five weeks along already. Can you believe it?!”

I didn’t even dignify it with a response. I just said coldly, “If she only told you, why are you saying anything?”

“Um, because I had to tel Rich, obviously, and I figured you should know.”

“Why?”

She was such a bitch. “Wel, because you’re dating Connor. And it’s, like, his.”

I shook my head and closed my eyes. It took everything in my not to punch her right then and there. Wyatt saw my expression.

“Faith, I think you need to leave, now,” he said to her.

She looked surprised. “What did I do?”

“You opened your mouth, that’s what,” Rich piped up. “That was a realy bitchy thing to do, even for you.” He stood up. “Come on.

We’re leaving.”

Faith’s jaw was hanging open. Rich usualy took her side, but in this situation, even he could tel she’d crossed the line. She folowed him out of the cafeteria like little puppy, stil stunned that he’d caled her out.

I was shaking so bad that I almost didn’t feel Wyatt’s arm around me. I stil had my fists clenched, ready to strike. “Let it go,” he said.

“Just let it go. She’s not worth it.”

I unclenched my fists, but stil stared at the door to the cafeteria, fixated on the place where I had last seen the back of her head.

“You need to eat. Come on, please,” Wyatt said, handing me a rol. I took it from him, puled off a smal piece and stuck it in my mouth. He returned to his own food that had been untouched up until then.

“Alexis is pregnant?” he asked cautiously. I nodded, feeling tears prick the backs of my eyes at the thought. “It’s Connor’s?”

I shrugged. “It seems like it. The timing lines up.”

“Wow,” Wyatt said, and I knew he wanted to say so much more, but he held back for my sake.

We finished eating quickly, so we could get back upstairs. I couldn’t realy taste anything anyway after the turn our conversation had taken.

The afternoon progressed pretty much the same as it had for the past two days. There was no change in Connor – good or bad. I stared at his eyes, wiling them to open.

It wasn’t until the next day, my birthday, that something happened. I was looking down at his hand, my hands wrapped around it when it felt his finger twitch. My eyes flew to his, but they were closed, his face unchanged. So I let go of his hand, let it sit on top of the blanket and watched for movement, but nothing happened.

After an hour, I went out to tel the nurse what I felt. She explained that it was common in people who were in a coma. Their bodies sometimes twitched. It didn’t mean anything. I refused to believe that and took Connor’s twitch as his way of teling me ‘Happy Birthday’.

I turned eighteen with little fanfare. My family understood that it wasn’t the right time to celebrate and promised we would once Connor was home. I knew we were al stil clinging to hope that he would be awake any day, but none of us had any way of knowing for sure when that would be.

The next day I was sitting with Connor when the most amazing thing happened.

“Abby.”

My head jerked up at the whisper of my name. Connor’s eyes were stil closed and he was stil in the same position. Had I imagined that? Was my sheer exhaustion causing me to halucinate that my boyfriend had said my name? I looked at his eyes intently, watching for any change.

“Connor? Did you say my name? I’m right here.” Nothing. I had probably imagined it. My hands were holding the hand that did not have the IV attached to it. “Connor, can you hear me?”

Again, nothing. I put my head down in defeat. It had been four days of no news, no change. The doctors said there wasn’t any reason why he shouldn’t wake up, but they let us know he needed to do it in his own time and that was different for everyone. Maybe my hope was turning into halucinations.

“Abby.”

Okay, that I heard. It was a whisper, but I heard it nonetheless.

“Connor,” I said, more firmly. “Wake up. Come on, baby, wake up. I know you can do it.” I stroked his hand back and forth, as I spoke to him. Then I felt his finger move, and I froze. “Oh, my God, you moved your finger!”

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

“Connor? Please wake up. Please.”

I looked right at his eyes as they fluttered slightly, and then they opened. I started to cry. It was what I’d been waiting for. Al I had wanted was to see his eyes open, and there they were.

“Abby?” he said, sounding confused.

“I’m right here. I’m right here,” I said through my tears.

He squeezed my hand gently. He was awake. Oh, my God. I had to tel his parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. I didn’t want to walk away from him.

“I thought I lost you,” he croaked.

What?

Now he was talking gibberish, but I didn’t care. I reached up and hit the cal button for the nurse.

“I thought I lost you,” he mumbled again.

“No, I’m right here. I’ve been right here the whole time. You didn’t lose me.”

The nurse rushed in folowed by Mr. and Mrs. Richmond.

“He’s awake!” I said, looking at the fear on al of their faces. Oh, they had thought I had hit the cal button because something was wrong.

Mrs. Richmond’s face changed into a look of relief, as she rushed to Connor’s bedside, tears streaming down her face. “Connor!” she gasped.

Everyone else crowded into the available space by his bed, as the nurse checked his vitals and asked him questions. We were al silent, as we waited for his answers.

“Hi Connor,” she said. “Do you know where you are?”

He shook his head.

“You’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

He looked confused. “No. Why am I in the hospital? Dad, what happened? Abby?” He sounded panicked. His eyes were darting between me and his parents, searching for some insight into what was going on.

The nurse took over. “You were in an accident. Can you remember the accident?”

He shook his head. He looked truly frightened. I tightened my grip on his hand to let him know he was okay.

“Okay. That’s okay. Can you tel me your ful name?”

“Connor James Richmond.”

We al smiled at him as he said it. I was so good to hear him speak. His voice was weak and somewhat disconnected, but it was his.

That was al that mattered.

“Good. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Where do you live?”

“Scituate, Massachusetts.”

She nodded. “Connor, can you tel me what the last thing is that you remember?”

“I,” he paused, looking confused as his eyes flitted to me. “I remember going on line to buy theater tickets.”

What was he talking about? Since when did Connor like the theater?

“And when was this?” the nurse asked.

“I don’t know. What’s today?”

“Today is January 3rd,” she said calmly.

“January? How long have I been in here?”

“Almost five days, honey,” his Mom said, patting his hand.

“I was buying tickets for Abby’s birthday.” Then he turned to me. “Abby, I missed your birthday. I’m so sorry.”

I felt the tears prick my eyes, but I laughed through them. “It’s okay, baby. You waking up was the best present I could get.” I stroked his hand as I held it, but he stil seemed disoriented.

“Connor, what else do you remember about that day? What else did you do?”

“Um.” He looked like it was hurting him to think. “Abby and I were hanging out. We were listening to music,” he said, turning his confused eyes to me. “Then you had to go eat dinner with your parents.”

“He’s talking about five nights ago – right before the accident. I left around five,” I explained.

“Okay, Connor,” the nurse said. “What do you remember after that?”

He looked like was concentrating realy hard. “Nothing. I can’t remember anything.”

“Okay,” she said turning to his parents. “It’s typical for accident victims not to remember the actual accident. He seems to be okay otherwise, but I’l stil ask Dr. Weber to come in and take a look at him so we can be sure.”

She turned to Connor again. “Now, don’t worry, I’m sure in time, you’l remember what happened. Just don’t try to push yourself too hard. You’ve been through a lot.”

I watched as Connor’s gaze found his broken leg before glancing to the burns and bruises on his arms that were starting to heal. I watched him reach up to touch the now smaler bandage on his forehead that covered the stitches above his eye, and he started to process just how much he’d been though.

He chose that moment to try to sit up, but it was a struggle for him.

His Dad put a hand on his shoulder. “No, Connor, don’t do that. I think that’s what the nurse is referring to.”

Connor looked frustrated. “I’m thirsty,” he said, and we al laughed. It wasn’t a particularly funny thing to say, but after almost five days of nothing, it was as good as any joke.