Chapter 36
CHAPTER 36
“The doctor would like to talk to you,” a female voice jarred me out of my restless sleep. I opened my eyes. I was curled up in a hard chair. Irene looked as dazed as I felt. The only person who seemed normal was Jackson, who nursed a coffee.
The nurse ushered us into a family room that had two worn couches and a couple of boxes of Kleenex on the side tables. We didn't speak.
The doctor walked into the room and carried a file.
“Matt made it through the surgery with flying colors,” he said, sitting down across from us.
“Oh thank God,” Irene clutched her chest.
“He sustained a significant head injury. We managed to remove the mass in his frontal lobe successfully. There's a small amount of swelling which we're monitoring so we currently have him in a medically induced coma. This is so he remains out of pain, and it gives his body the best chance to heal.”
We sat in stunned silence.
“He’s being moved to the ICU. We won’t know the extent of his injuries until he wakes up, but we're doing everything we can to keep him comfortable.”
“When can I see him?” Irene asked.
“Give the nurses in the ICU a few hours to get him settled. After that, we will be allowing the family to go in and see him for five minutes at a time. At this point, the best course of action for Matt is rest.”
Tears streamed down her face. “We don’t know how this happened. The police say that he was drinking and driving. That doesn’t sound like my son.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Did any of you notice any significant changes in Matt’s behavior over the last few weeks or months leading up to his accident?”
“What kind of changes?” Jackson asked.
“Irritability or aggression? Mood swings. A lack of inhibition, perhaps?”
I swallowed. Thinking about how Matt had been a complete madman in the last two months. “Yes.”
Irene swung around and looked at me. Her eyes searched my face.
The doctor continued. “The benign mass that we found in Matt’s head was putting significant pressure on the surrounding tissues of his frontal lobe. The frontal lobe is the part of the brain that’s responsible for reasoning, language, impulse control, emotions, judgment, social or sexual behavior. The fact that he was engaged in such high-risk behavior with drinking and driving could very well be a result of the tumor pressing on his brain. It took away his ability to monitor his actions reasonably.”
The entire room shrank. My blood ran cold. This explained so much. How Matt had changed from a high strung lawyer to a completely crazy person who drank too much, never called, engaged in promiscuous behavior and acted out with violence when he got upset.
My stomach felt sick .
“But you think he'll make a complete recovery?” Irene pressed.
“I don’t want to undermine the extent of Matt’s brain injury. He could experience motor or speech issues, memory issues, there is a grocery list of things that he could struggle with, but before I scare you, we just won’t know until he wakes up. Right now we're working to ensure he doesn’t develop an infection or undue swelling in his brain. After he wakes up, we'll be better able to assess further complications.”
The three of us sat there. No one spoke.
He gave us a tired smile. “Matt's a fit young man. His body is strong. His heart rate and blood pressure are good. We’re cautiously optimistic about his recovery.”
He left the room while we tried to process what he had just told us.
Irene looked at me. “What kind of changes did you see in Matt?”
“What?”
She looked angry. “You told the doctor that you witnessed behavioral changes in Matt. I want to know what you saw.”
I huddled in my chair. “Matt was always busy at his job, but the last couple of months, he was never home. Usually he would text or call, but lately, he wasn’t even doing that.”
“What else?”
I swallowed hard, avoiding Jackson’s gaze. “When he was around, he was often angry or moody, but I thought that was just because he was stressed out from work. I noticed that he was drinking more too.”
“You should have done something about it,” her voice accused.
My head jerked up. Her arms crossed and her face was white and pinched. “Why didn’t you make him see a doctor? This could have been avoided.”
“Irene,” Jackson said gently.
She stood up. “No. I wasn’t there, but Emily was. She should have noticed these big personality changes in Matt and then made him see a doctor. This accident could have been avoided if we had found the tumor earlier. But she didn’t. ”
“Irene, that isn’t fair to Emily,” Jackson said with a sympathetic look on his face. “I was there, too.”
She pointed a finger at me. “You could have prevented this. This is your fault.”
Then she burst into tears and walked out of the room.
I covered my face with my hands.
“She’s just upset,” Jackson said. “She's afraid, and she's taking it out on you. This isn’t your fault.”
I shook my head. “I noticed the changes. She’s right. I should have done something. Instead of addressing it or even talking to him about it, I stuck my head in the sand.”
“We all saw Matt change. His Mom, me, everyone was baffled by his behavior, but not one of us thought he was sick.”
“Instead of helping him, instead of addressing it with him, I let it escalate to the point that I cheated on him!”
His jaw clenched. “I was there, and if I recall, he cheated on you first and then dumped you. You can’t own this. This isn’t your fault.”
My eyes lifted to meet his green ones. How could I absolve myself from this? I had loved Matt until he had gotten sick and been a bad partner. Then I had just let him go off and be destructive and harmful to himself and others so that I could pursue Jackson. I allowed myself to fall in love with Jackson and flung that in Matt’s face so that he dumped me in a fit of rage and not an hour later, I was in bed with Jackson. I didn’t deserve Matt or Jackson.
I shook my head. “Irene is right. I could've prevented this.”
“Emily."
I dropped my eyes from his beautiful face.
Days slowly ticked by. They allowed us to see Matt for only five minutes at a time. We alternated between sitting beside his bed and waiting in the waiting room. I didn’t speak. To anyone. In turn, Jackson forced us to go home to rest, eat and shower but there was always one of us at the hospital.
Irene and I made up. She apologized for her outburst. I apologized for not doing more to help Matt. We were on speaking terms, but instead of turning to each there for support, we just endured our feelings of fear and pain by ourselves.
My entire body, wracked with guilt, resulted in a tight chest and an upset stomach. My throat felt like it was going to close in on me. I wasn’t hungry, but I was exhausted all the time. All I wanted to do was sleep a hundred years, but instead, we spent all our time sitting, trying to stay awake in that awful little waiting room. Even if Irene had apologized, she was right. I had been there watching Matt morph into someone I didn’t recognize seemingly overnight. And his rash and outrageous behavior had caused the accident. I think we all felt guilty about missing the symptoms. But there was no excuse for what I did with Jackson. I had allowed myself to develop monstrous feelings for Jackson and the first chance I got, I had slept with him. If that didn’t make me a horrible person, I don’t know what did.