Certainty (12 page)

Dad took his keys out of his pocket. “I hope he understands it isn’t his fault.”

He gave me a quick hug before he left. I returned to my text messages, thinking about Kyle. Even as confident as he was, it had to be hard. I texted Ren back,
I knew the kid who hit derek

Ren had only been here for a week—and I was pretty sure he didn’t know Kyle. He answered, F
rom school?

Yes

There was too much to say in a text. I would see him on Monday, maybe. My phone buzzed again. It was Ren.
Are you ok?

Yes thx
That was sweet of him.

See you tomororw?

I don't know,
I answered.

Okay. Take care.

The shower turned off and I went upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, Big Guy.”

“Kenzie?” he called back, and the scent of orange shampoo wafted out from the door.

“Yeah, it’s me. Dad’s back at the hospital and Mom is coming home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Mom came home later and then left, just like Dad, and the house was left to James and me. We watched TV and I played some video games with him, trying to keep him busy. We made dinner—pancakes--and I called Dad. It had been a long, lonely day and I wondered what was going on at the hospital and why they weren’t back by now.

“Hi hon,” Dad answered, and he sounded odd.

“Hi Dad. Are you and Mom coming home tonight?” I didn’t want to be pushy, but I wanted to know.

“No, I’m sorry. Derek had a seizure and went into a coma a few hours ago—Granpop is coming over to spend the night.”

I was too shocked to speak, my hand over my mouth, staring out the kitchen window.

“A coma? How? When is he going to wake up?” I asked. I didn’t know very much about comas or how people woke up from them. I couldn’t believe this was happening to my family.

“The doctors don’t why, part of the injury they think—it could be a long time before he wakes up or maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow. We don’t know. We’re hoping something good happens soon, though. Sorry we didn’t call.” He sounded sad. I told him not to worry, that James and I were fine.

After I hung up, I walked around the kitchen with the phone in my hand. It didn’t feel real. How could this happen to Derek? There must be something the doctors could do.

I didn’t want to tell James any more bad news, especially when we were alone. I wanted my parents home, but I knew they needed to be at the hospital in case Derek came out of the coma.

When Granpop came over with his suitcase in one hand and his art box in another I still hadn’t told James about Derek. We finally told James before he went to bed that Derek was in a coma, but he didn’t seem to understand, which was fine with me. 

I couldn't make a decision about going to school tomorrow. I didn’t want to go, but waiting around for the phone to ring was just as bad. Maybe we should go to school so we could think about something else.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said miserably to Granpop after we'd talked about it for a while.

“We don’t know what tomorrow may bring,” Granpop said, his soft blue eyes gazing into mine over his reading glasses. “Let’s be home for a little while until we know what will come.”

I felt the same warmth I had last night when I knelt by the bed in his house.  Maybe it was just being around Granpop that made everything seem to make more sense. “Thanks, Granpop.”

I knelt at my bed, praying again for Derek and for all of us, and I didn’t forget Kyle.  I slid under the covers and opened my phone. I stared at Ren’s number for a while and then texted,
Are you awake?

The phone buzzed in reply.
yes. Are you ok?

No. Derek is in a coma

The phone was silent for a few moments and then he answered back,
I'm sorry. I hope he'll be okay.

Thanks.

Call if you need me.

OK  bye

Yes, I needed him, but I probably wouldn’t see him tomorrow. I would be home waiting for a phone call that my brother was all right.
Derek, please come back to us.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
MacKenzie

We didn't go to school on Monday. Granpop painted in the morning and even showed James how to draw wildflowers. Granpop's hands shook a little as he gave James the drawing lesson, the pencil wavering on the paper.

"It's alright to be a little shaky--nature isn't made of perfect shapes so giving it some wavy edges makes the flower look more real," Granpop said, looking over his glasses at his work.

He was right. The imperfect lines made a better drawing than if he had sketched it out with concentrated effort.

Mom and Dad came home that night and Mom made spaghetti for dinner. Granpop stayed for dinner and we all sat around the dinner table, talking about Derek. It was odd that we were acting so ordinary, but comforting at the same time. We couldn’t force Derek to get better or decide when. We could only wait.

"The doctors say there are different levels of coma, Derek is not the deepest level, but it’s close," Dad said, taking some salad on his plate. His crisp khakis were wrinkled from sitting all day. 

The information about comas surprised me. I thought they were all the same. "So does that mean he's going to come out of it sooner?" I asked.

"They don't know," Mom answered. Her hair was still wet from her shower and she had on her usual Mom t-shirt and jeans.

"They say that a lot," James said, his mouth full of spaghetti. He was still wearing Granpop’s smock, which was nothing more than a worn out, old long sleeve shirt. It was some kind of cowboy shirt, in brown and white plaid. The sleeves were rolled up a couple of times, thick on James’ elbows. He enjoyed looking like an artist, so he’d kept it on.

"Well, that's because the brain is very complex. There is a lot we don't know," Dad said.

"Is Derek going to talk better when he wakes up?" James asked. He didn't know about the possibility that Derek might not wake up at all. I read somewhere about a guy who was in a coma for 37 years. In 37 years Derek would be....15 plus 37....52. I hoped we didn’t have to go through that.

"We don't know," Mom said.

"Why don't we know more about comas? We can map out the human genome," I paused because I didn't know exactly what that meant, only kind of-- I'd just read it somewhere..."and go to the moon but we can't wake Derek up or fix his speech problem?"

Granpop pointed towards the window to the dark October sky with the can of parmesan cheese, his weathered hand waving the cheese.  "Going to the moon is easy compared to fixing the brain."

"I hope he comes home soon," James said.

The rest of us knew comas were unpredictable so we couldn't promise anything. I wound my spaghetti around my fork, wondering if Derek knew what was happening around him. Maybe he was completely unaware.

I asked if we were going to school tomorrow and Mom and Dad looked at each other.

Mom spoke. "It’s up to you. There isn't anything we can do for Derek right now except visit him. I'll be with him during the day. If anything happens, we'll let you know."

Granpop kissed the top of our heads before he left. He let James keep the smock.

While everyone else watched television I looked up comas online. My hands started shaking as I read that half of people in comas died. I blinked at the screen. My parents were sitting on the couch, Mom leaning against Dad’s shoulder, and they were holding hands. Normally I would think they were sweet in a yucky parent sort of way, but knowing that Derek’s chances were so slim I understood why they sat so close to each other. It never occurred to me that they would be scared or not know what to do, but watching them, I knew they were uncertain about Derek’s future.

Before I went to bed I knelt and dug my forehead into my arms as I prayed. I didn’t know why God would let us be one of the lucky ones. I only knew I really wanted it. The prayer that was answered a few nights ago seemed far away. How was this okay? Did God mean it would be okay if Derek didn’t wake up? It wasn’t my definition. I couldn’t bring myself to accept losing Derek so I got off my knees and climbed into bed, waiting for my body warmth to heat the covers.

The wind blew against my windows and cleared the sky. A brilliant moon shone down on my bedroom floor, making a window-shaped shadow.

Half of coma patients did not wake up. I pushed my covers off and went to my dresser. I found the small change jar and picked out a penny. I went back to bed and flipped the coin. I mentally called heads and held my breath. I caught it in my palm. The moon shone down on the Lincoln Memorial. I flipped it a few more times until I got Lincoln. In God We Trust. Because sometimes we don't have anyone else.

***************************

I woke up the next morning, not terribly interested in going to school. Now that I knew how fragile our chances were of seeing Derek again, it was too hard, but if James was going then so should I.

Mom was up and made French toast for us. James devoured four pieces. I managed one and a half and a small glass of orange juice. Mom was cheerful, but it was a quiet cheerful, like she was afraid something would break.

Stepping out of the house our front lawn was white with frost. It was cold and pretty.  I stopped at Ren's house and knocked on the door. His mother opened it.

"MacKenzie! It's good to see you. How is your family?" She looked as if she might be an early riser, her makeup fresh and her eyes as bright as her raspberry lipstick.

"We're doing fine. Derek is still in the hospital--but we're hoping he'll get better." I didn't want to say coma.

"Tell your parents we are thinking about Derek."

I remembered that she had been there when Derek was hit. "Thank you, I will."

Ren came from behind her, his skateboard in his hand. He wore a jacket and a black, hand knit scarf hung carelessly around his neck, almost dangling on the floor. Somehow he made it look sophisticated.

"Bye, Mom." He kissed her cheek, unembarrassed that I was there, and we waved goodbye as we walked away.

He threw the board down on the sidewalk. I had missed the familiar thunk.

"How is Derek?" he asked right away.

"Well, like I said before, he's in a coma and…that’s not very good. I'm scared that he won't come out of it." I didn’t want to talk about fifty percent.

Ren looked over at me, not speaking, but in his eyes I sensed that he wanted to tell me something important. Then he looked away and the moment was lost.

"I think he's going to be okay," was all he said.

I didn't tell him that not even the doctors would promise that much; I knew he was trying to make me feel better. I pictured Derek the last time I had seen him, his bewilderment at trying to find words and the bruises on his face. Now he was sleeping, perhaps for a long time.

The pleasure of being with Ren evaporated a little, and I wished I could do more for Derek. Praying and wishing was beginning to exhaust me. Why did this happen? It didn't make sense. Derek was talented and everyone liked him. Wasn't that important to God? Why didn't He protect my brother? Wasn't he worth it?

I looked up and realized I was ignoring Ren. 

"I'm sorry," I said, glancing up at him. “I'm just...thinking about stuff."

He didn't answer right away so I kept talking. "When I saw Derek the last time it was really strange. I can't describe it, but he's different. I don't know if it's because he's healing or maybe that's what concussions to do people...but he's not the same. He just...it's like he knows us, sort of, but not like....I don't know."

It was frustrating to describe. "And now he's in a coma. We don't know when he's going to wake up and the doctors can't tell us anything."

The more I talked the angrier I became. "Why don't they know more? In movies doctors are brilliant and save lives and in real life my brother is in a coma. They can't help him. It sucks!"

He stopped and kicked up his board. I stopped walking. The look was back in his eyes--that he wanted to tell me something.

"What if I told you I knew things that no one else did?" His face was calm, his gaze unwavering and confident.

"Like what?" I forgot my anger at doctors and the world in general, my skin prickling.

Ren was suddenly intense, his cool nonchalance gone. He had that eerie look, the one when we first met in Spanish.

"I know things about people."

"Like what?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets instead of talking. We both stood there, waitin
g. He kicked at his board again
, then looked away.

I reached out and wrapped my hand around his scarf, so he couldn't step away. My heart was beating hard as I looked up at him.