Chapter 6 Benji #2
But the name of a hospital is sitting in my head. Tallahassee Memorial. Two hours east. He’s in the spinal unit.
I close the laptop and grab my keys. My car has eighty-seven thousand miles on it and a big scratch on the passenger door from a shopping cart. It’s not fancy, but it gets me where I need to go. The map on my phone says one hour and fifty-three minutes on I-10 east. I put the car in drive.
I call Dante at the halfway point because the noise in my head is getting too loud.
“Please tell me you’re at the wedding house doing your job,” he says.
“No, I’m on I-10. Heading to Tallahassee.”
“What the hell are you doing, Benji? Why?”
“The detective told me he was transferred this morning. He’s at a hospital there in the spinal unit.”
“How far is that in drive time?”
“Two hours each way.”
“You’re driving four hours round-trip to sit in a hospital for a man you don’t know?”
“Yeah.”
“A man who has his own people. Who has that big guy, Tex. And the bartender and whoever else. He doesn’t need you there. That’s not your place, Benji.”
“I know he doesn’t need me there.”
“Then why are you going? You’re being weird. This isn’t like you.”
“I need to be there. To check on him.”
“Benji,” he says gently. “You can’t fix this by showing up. I know that’s what you’re trying to do and you can’t.”
“I’m not trying to fix it.”
“Then what are you trying to do? You must have PTSD or something. Did you hit your head when they knocked you down? You’re not thinking straight.”
I don’t have an answer for him because I don’t have a plan. There’s no speech prepared to say to Mickey or a casserole in the backseat to hand to anyone. I didn’t even think to bring flowers.
“I’ll call you when I get there,” I say. “I just need to show up and be there for him. Even if he doesn’t know or care that I’m there. I know it sounds crazy.”
“Is this a one-time thing? You worked a long time to get this wedding job. If you blow it, your reputation will be ruined.”
“I know, Dante. Believe me, I know what I’m risking here.”
“You didn’t answer my question about it being a one-time thing,” Dante presses.
“That’s because I don’t have an answer yet. Look, hopefully when I get there, he’ll be surrounded by lots of people to take care of him. Friends, cops, family members, a girlfriend or many girlfriends.”
“God, I hope he’s surrounded,” Dante says. “I hope that cop has so many people crowded around him that you can buy a vase of flowers at the gift shop with a nice card and leave.”
“I do too, but if that’s the case, why wasn’t there anyone else at the hospital last night? Not even his parents were there. Tex told me his dad has dementia and his mom can’t leave him alone. Other than that, I don’t know one thing about this man’s life.”
“That’s the whole point,” Dante says. “You’re not part of his life. You can’t insert yourself in this man’s life. He’s a stranger. Don’t be weird about it.”
“I won’t do that. I do have manners, you know.”
“Okay, drive safe,” Dante says. “Text me when you get there. And eat something, for the love of God, because I know you haven’t eaten.”
He’s right. My stomach is empty, my ribs hurt and the coffee from the Mr. Coffee in the condo is burning a hole through my gut. I stop at a gas station and buy a granola bar and a bottle of water. I eat it standing up while pumping gas. Then I get back in the car and drive faster.
I follow the GPS to the hospital and park in the visitor lot. Now that I’m here, I’m nervous. What am I going to say, and to whom?
I go inside. The waiting room is nicer than the one in Panama City. Newer chairs, a better TV, a fish tank in the corner with slow-moving goldfish that go around and around in endless circles.
I don’t go to the information desk or ask for a room number. I’m not family and they’re not going to tell me anything. I’m not even a friend.
I sit there for an hour. Maybe longer. People come and go.
Families with red eyes and a man in scrubs eating a sandwich.
Two women holding hands in the corner, not talking, just holding on.
A child asleep across three chairs with a jacket over her like a blanket.
All of them waiting to find out if their lives are going to be the same tomorrow as they were yesterday. Most of them won’t be.
I’m counting the goldfish making their hundredth lap when a deep voice says my name.
“Benji? What are you doing here?”
I look up. Tex is standing over me. He looks different today, no apron, clean shirt and jeans. But the exhaustion sits deeper on his face now. He’s been up all night and running on nothing but adrenaline. He’s holding two coffees and was heading toward the elevators when he spotted me.
“Hi,” I say, straightening up.
“How did you know he was here?” he asks.
“I went to the sheriff’s office this morning to give my statement. The detective mentioned they transferred him here.”
He stares at me for a second and frowns. “How long have you been sitting down here?”
“A little while.”
He sits down in the chair next to mine. The metal groans under him. He sets one of the coffees on the armrest between us, leans back and sighs.
“I guess you’re wondering how he is?” he asks, glancing over at me.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
“He’s awake. He’s talking. He’s already driving the nurses crazy, which means he’s still Mickey.
They did more imaging this morning before the transfer.
The swelling’s still there but at least they took off the collar holding his neck in place.
They’re saying it could be days, could be weeks before they know the extent of the injury.
” He stops talking and takes a sip of his coffee.
“He can’t feel anything at all below the waist, but it might not be permanent. ”
My throat closes and I grip the side of my chair.
“Listen,” Tex says. He turns back to me and his face is deeply tired.
“This isn’t your fault. I need you to hear that.
Mickey doesn’t blame you. I don’t blame you.
The men who beat you up and brought a gun into my bar, that’s who’s at fault.
Not you. You don’t need to keep coming to the hospital because you think he’s here because of you. ”
“Sheila told me to leave your bar three times and I didn’t listen.”
“Sheila tells a lot of people a lot of things. Most of them don’t listen. That doesn’t make them responsible for what other men do.”
“If I had left...”
“If you’d left, those four guys would’ve still been drunk and one of them would’ve still had a gun in his jacket.
Something could’ve happened anyway. Maybe next week.
Maybe to somebody else. You didn’t cause this.
You were the target of it. There’s a huge difference there.
Trust me, Mickey wouldn’t want you to feel guilty.
We’ve already discussed it. He doesn’t blame you. ”
He says it like a cop. You were the target, not the cause. It’s a clean distinction. My brain understands it. The rest of me doesn’t.
He stretches out his long legs. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know Mickey some way? From before, I mean.”
“No,” I say. “I’d never seen him before. I don’t know him. Never met him. Don’t know anything about him. I’m not even from here, which you’ve probably figured out. I’m from Miami. I’m only in town for work. I’m a wedding planner.”
“Listen to me then,” he says. “Mickey’s going to be here a while.
He’s got me. He’s been my best friend since we were little kids.
We’re as close as brothers. Sheila’s coming when she can.
He’s not alone. You don’t need to be sitting down here in this waiting room, praying or whatever you’re doing.
He’s being taken care of and he will be taken care of.
He’s family and we take care of our own.
You don’t need to worry about him. Not anymore. ”
“I understand. I know I don’t need to be here.”
He picks up the second coffee he set on the armrest and holds it out to me. “Here. I was taking it back up to Mickey but he can share mine. I doubt he’s supposed to be drinking coffee today anyway.”
I take the coffee. “Thank you,” I say. “Is Stormy up there with him now? He was nice to me at the hospital. He came out to the hallway and hugged me.”
“No, Stormy’s back at the bar helping Sheila. He told me about that hug. He was worried. Said he wasn’t sure if he did it right. He doesn’t have a lot of experience in giving hugs or getting them. We’re working on it. He’s a lot better than he was this time last year.”
I let out a laugh. It hurts my ribs and my eyes fill up. I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying. “It was the worst hug I’ve ever received,” I say. “You can tell him it was also the best. The very best. I like him.”
Tex nods and stands up. He looks down at me again in the plastic chair with my bruised face and whatever he sees there helps him make a decision.
“I’m going back up, but I’ll be heading out in a little bit,” he says. “He’s in Room 503. Spinal unit. He just got settled in but he’s awake. If you want to go up later...” He stops and shrugs. “Well, that’s entirely up to you. I can’t tell you what to do.”
He walks to the elevator and he’s gone. Room 503. I shouldn’t go up there. Not today. Mickey just got here. He’s a severely injured man who doesn’t know me. I’m the reason he’s in that room. It might even be traumatic to see me.
At least I have a room number now. And Tex sort of invited me to go up in an offhand way.
My phone buzzes.
Dante: Did you get there safely?
Benji: I’m here.
Dante: And?
Benji: I’m sitting in the lobby drinking coffee and counting goldfish laps.
Dante: Why?
Benji: They’re very compelling fish.
Dante: Not what I meant. I’m worried about you. What happened to him is not something you can fix by sitting in a building. You know that, right?
Benji: I know that too.
Dante: How long are you staying there?
Benji: I’m leaving soon. Tex gave me an update and his room number. I’m coming back tomorrow.
Dante: We need to talk about this, Benji. Call me later when you get back to the condo.
Benji: I will.
I watch the goldfish. They’re still swimming, lap after lap after lap. They don’t know they’re in a hospital. They just keep going in circles because that’s all they know to do.