The Anatomy of Jane (33 page)

“What are you doing?” Irene followed Jane as she rushed into the room. Her eyes were bloodshot as she looked around frantically. Elspeth sighed and muttered something to her and Alistair, Maxwell’s father, stepped in but didn’t look at me.

“Where is the fucking remote?” Jane snapped, running her hands through her hair.

“Young lady haven’t you caused enough—”

“I can explain. I just need the remote,” she said back to him.

“Jane,” I called out and handed her the remote from the bedside table.

“Thank you.” She took it and flipped on the television. She searched through the channels before stopping at YGM. A commercial was playing.

“Turn this off.”

“It’s for Max,” she said softly, walking over to the other side of Max’s bed and touching his head. “You got him, everyone will know now. You got him.”

Confused, I leaned forward. “Jane? What are you talking about?”

“This is YGM Breaking News.”
We all turned to the television where a black man in a plaid shirt, navy tie, and suit jacket came on screen.
“Weeks ago, here on this stage, my boss, Maxwell Emerson, broke the scandalous behavior of Governor MacDowell on the Emerson Report. Everyone was glued to their televisions. How far would this scandal go? What other wrongdoing was left to be exposed? It was an incredible tale, and we did not want to believe our governor was not only a thief and a fraud, but also a sexual predator. As hours became days and days became weeks, we were able to forget Governor MacDowell, lay him in the graveyard along with the other corrupt politicians. After all, there was nothing but speculation of the ‘give warnings’ sexual assaults. Interviews were dropped, sources were gone, and it looked as if this was just another fabricated story. Other stations began to drop the story from their headline news, but even as ratings dipped and our news team was being pressured to move on from this developing story, my boss, Maxwell Emerson, stood firm. He believed that this man, Governor MacDowell, should not just fade into the background but be punished for his actions. Tonight, Maxwell Emerson has proven why he is the man deserving of this chair, your trust, and as he fights for his life in the hospital, your prayers. Not one, but three women have come out this early morning with proof, not only of Governor MacDowell’s involvement, but many others. Thank you, ladies, for speaking out.”

Beside him were seated three women of varying ethnicities. A grin spread across my face as I turned back to Max. “God, how are we going to live with your ego now?”

“I’m going to need to call my lawyer,” Alistair muttered, reaching into his jacket pocket.

And they were disgusted with us?

Chapter Twenty-Two

DAY ONE

“Mwlels…” That was what it sounded like, a muffled voice speaking into my ear, and I tried to move, but my body felt as if it was strapped down. The more I tried to move, the worse it felt.

“Camms…ha…ah…” I couldn’t understand the words, which only made me more frustrated and panicked.

“Maxwell.” Finally, something I could understand. “Maxwell, I’m Doctor Raji.”
Who is this?
“Can you hear me now?”

I didn’t know what he was doing, but the pressure in my ears decreased. I tried to tell him so, but my throat burned. Fighting it, I spoke with what felt like sandpaper in my throat. “I…w…”

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Opening my eyes, I had to shut them immediately; the lights nearly blinded me.

“Wh…where…?”

“You’re in Boston General Hospital. You were in a car accident five days ago.”

“Car accident?”

Five days?

I tried to think back, but all I saw were the lights…the lights from the van…the van?
What?

“Mr. Emerson, can you feel this?”

I wasn’t sure if I was feeling something or not, so I didn’t speak.

“What about here?”

Still nothing, and I knew that wasn’t good.

“Calm down, Mr. Emerson. It’s fine. We still have a long way to go, one step at a time, but you’ve already taken the first step by waking up.”

Five days? He had said five days.

Closing my eyes, I thought back again. I’d…I’d have gone to…Jane and Wes.

“My…family.” I wasn’t sure what else to call them.

“Everyone is here. I’ll bring them in once we are done.”

There was a click and the bed rose slightly, allowing me to sit upright. It wasn’t just Doctor Raji, but a whole team of doctors—I counted six—around my bed, all of them just staring.

“Mr. Emerson, I know it hurts, but try to breathe in for me.” He put his stethoscope to my chest. Breathing again, I focused on my legs. I still had two of them, thankfully, but I barely felt either of them. They were like dead weights.

“I hit someone?” I finally brought myself to ask, the minivan in coming back to mind.

“The police say you sped through a yellow light. Another driver crashed into you. She’s fine and her daughters have been discharged. Your family paid their bills. It was just a bad accident.”

“My family?” I asked again.

“We can stop for now and bring them in, but try to relax,” he told me.

I wanted to ask if anyone could relax in a situation like this, but all I could do was nod, and even that hurt.

“Maxwell.” The first people who came in weren’t really the first ones I wanted to see, but I was still grateful.

“Mom,” I said as she kissed my cheek, crying.

“I tell you I love you, and you go wrap your car around a lamppost. Such an ass,” Irene said, brushing the tears from her eyes.

“Sorry.” I didn’t have the strength to be witty.

She hugged me before taking a seat beside me.

“Dad?” I looked over to my mom.

She frowned. “He’s…he’s not going be able to come for a while.”

More hookers!

“He’s been indicted. The Emerson family curse strikes again,” Irene muttered bitterly.

“What?”

“Sexual exploitation. He rolled on Governor MacDowell to save himself, which is—”

“Irene, enough.” My mother sneered at her and took my hand. I was far too confused, and the thought of asking questions only gave me a headache. I didn’t care about any of that.

“Jane,” I whispered, looking to my mother. “And Wes,”

She didn’t reply, but she kept holding my hand.

“They’re waiting in the hall. They haven’t stopped waiting for you. They love you a lot,” Irene answered, and part of me was shocked, but a bigger part of me was relieved.

“I…I…I need to see them.”

She walked to the door, and I didn’t have to wait a second before they both came running in. Their clothes were rumpled and their faces were pale.

“You guys look…like…shit,” I gasped out; why it took so much energy to say, I didn’t know. My mom let go. She didn’t say a word, just left with Irene.

“Yeah, well.” Wes sat beside me. He kissed the side of my head, then lips. “My boyfriend nearly gave me a heart attack—twice actually.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jane said, now sitting on the opposite side of me. She took my hand before saying, “I always look good. Your eyesight isn’t doing well right now.”

Inhaling felt like I had swallowed glass. I wanted to say something, but all the words that came to mind seemed subpar at best.

“Never again,” Wes said with his eyes dropping. He looked like he’d lost weight and his whole body was shaking. He looked at the ceiling and blinked a few times.

Jane was just as bad. Once again, just like the day I’d gone to pick them up—which only felt like yesterday to me—I was in awe of them.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Idiot.” Jane bit her lip. “Don’t be sorry. Just be alive.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Wes nodded again.

DAY TWO

The first day I was awake, I was so shocked, amazed, and grateful to be alive, grateful that they were both there, that I didn’t really think of myself much. The second day, I learned a couple things. I learned that my story, both of the scandal and me being awake, was all anyone could talk about on the news. It left me with a sense of pride, which got me through the second piece of news I was currently hearing.

“You’ve broken bones in both legs and have substantial nerve damage,” my doctor explained to me and my mother as she stood right beside me. Jane and Wes had gone home earlier, though only because I’d begged them to. They looked just as bad as I felt. “However, bones can heal, so that isn’t the problem.”

“What is this problem?” my mother asked for me.

“You have what we call an incomplete spinal cord injury,” he replied, pulling up a chair beside me. “Now what that means is you do not have total paralysis or loss of sensation, and your spinal cord was not totally damaged or disrupted. This means there are better chances of additional recovery, but I want you to prepare for the long haul. It will get worse before it will get better.”

“What do you mean?”
How could it get worse?

“Physically, your brain knows how to walk and how to function. When the body doesn’t respond, it can be frustrating. There may be times when you try to move on your own and fall. You will need around the clock care for the first few months, a live-in nurse, if you chose to hire someone, for your rehabilitation. We must also take into consideration that phantom pains and mood swings are common. There is…there is also the chance you won’t walk again.”

After that I just stopped listening to him.

When I was nine, my grandfather lived with us. He’d lost his ability to walk when he was in his twenties, and that was the start of the ‘Emerson curse’, as Irene loved to call it, how Emersons ruined everything around us because of our own greed. The story went that my grandfather had slept with another man’s wife, and that man had shot him in the back. He’d always fall getting out of his wheelchair, and being the little shit I was, I’d just watch him. I thought that what he got was because he was also a jerk to everyone including my mother. He’d throw things and curse at the maids; it was like he hated living and made sure everyone else around him did too.

“Maxwell.”

I glanced up at my mother, who smiled gently and brushed back my hair. “Whatever you’re thinking, get it out of your head. You’re going to be fine. I know you. You’re far too stubborn to let this stop you.”

“Yeah.”

DAY THREE

“Ah!” I cried out, grabbing the sheets.

“Max? What is it?”

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, breathing in through my nose, trying to fight the pain in my left leg. It felt like someone was trying to cut it off. “AHFF! AHH!”

Wes called out, but I couldn’t think about anything other than the pain.

“It hurts. It fucking hurts! Make it stop! Please!”

“Max, hold on. The morphine will kick in soon,” one of the doctors said, and I wanted to give him the definition of ‘soon’.

It felt like hours before the pain disappeared, but I couldn’t bear to open my eyes. I just lay there breathing in and out, forcing myself to go to sleep.

“He’s been in pain all day,” Jane whispered.

“It could have been any number of things, but you need to understand he’s going to be in pain for a while. All we can do is manage it.”

The door opened and closed.

“Just manage it?” Wes sighed, sitting beside me. “I hate seeing him like this, Jane.”

He hated it? What about me?

He was supposed to be getting discharged and being the sap that I was, I actually considered getting him a flower—not a whole bouquet, just a single rose. However, I knew he’d complain. Instead, I made him a burger. He’d been bitching about hospital food…well, he’d been bitching about almost everything, but the food was the only thing I could fix. Jane, on the other hand, got him a teddy bear saying that he could at least beat the shit out of it when he was pissed.

“Here we go.” Jane breathed deeply.

“Max…” I started to say when we got to his room, but he wasn’t there. It was just his nurse remaking the bed he should have been on.