16. Maureen
Chapter sixteen
Maureen
T he waiting room in Coleman Creek’s small hospital at two a.m. smelled of freshly mopped linoleum and decorative cinnamon-scented pine cones. Blue lights lit up a plastic tree decorated with mini stethoscope ornaments. Paper snowflakes taped to the walls gave off distinct elementary school energy, as opposed to a place where doctors could walk in any minute to deliver bad news.
Please let there be no bad news .
I shivered, still shaken even though it had been hours since Will’s fall. It felt like everything had happened in slow motion.
Will’s head hitting the pavement, thudding like he’d dropped a bowling ball.
Terrifying minutes where he lay deathly still, not moving or responding to my voice.
Me dropping to my knees next to him, screaming and calling out for help.
Marley and James running outside with looks of horror on their faces.
Will regaining consciousness, able to feel his arms and legs and wiggle his toes, but unable to say how many fingers Marley held up.
James—having recently received first aid training as a volunteer firefighter—giving the all clear for me to take Will to the hospital in my car since it would be quicker than an ambulance.
During the drive to the emergency room, Will stayed awake but yammered like a deranged encyclopedia-slash-personal-diary most of the way, his head lolling against the side window as he rambled.
“Did you know they established the Secret Service to fight counterfeiting, not protect the president? For my fifteenth birthday, my parents took me to the restaurant on top of the Space Needle. I’d never been there before even though I lived in Seattle my whole life. Crazy, huh? If there are seventy-five people in a room, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance two of them have the same birthday. Did you know Bob Ross once helped a color-blind viewer by doing an episode where he only used gray paint? Isn’t art amazing? You’re so interesting and funny and pretty and cool. I like you so much, Maureen. I really wish you liked me…”
When we arrived, they’d taken Will to be seen right away. Marley and James came fifteen minutes later—party guests had trapped their cars—and we sat down in the green vinyl chairs to wait for news.
I fished three quarters from my wallet that had probably been there since the Obama administration and got a Twix from the vending machine. It took actual coins, no credit card tapper in sight, not to mention the candy cost less than a buck. Thankfully, old-school, reasonably-priced vending didn’t mean Coleman Creek wasn’t modern where it needed to be. There was a helicopter pad on the roof, and the doctor reassured us that if Will needed to be seen at a larger trauma center in Spokane, they could get him there rapidly.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Marley leaned over to tell me for the dozenth time, as though she’d heard my thoughts.
“How do you know?” I snapped. “I shoved him, and he fell. That pretty much makes it my fault.”
“It was an accident.”
I scoffed and swallowed down a dry bite of my candy.
James interjected, “You didn’t mean for him to fall, right? Hence—accident.”
I didn’t reply. We’d been having this same circular conversation for hours. The nurse had come out twice to let us know they were running tests. Luckily, Will had been cognizant enough when he arrived to tell the staff to consider us family. He consented to them speaking freely with us about his condition.
Marley asked James if he had a number for Will’s parents, but James didn’t. It would be simple enough to track them down if need be, but I wasn’t convinced Will would want them to know. I recalled him telling me the night we’d met that he had a tricky relationship with his family. James didn’t have much insight, saying he’d only met Will’s parents a few times when they were kids.
“What were you and Will talking about before he fell?” Marley’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Nothing important. I went outside to get some fresh air, and he followed me because I didn’t have a coat. He gave me his. When I decided to come back inside, I took off the coat and handed it to him, but I must have passed it back too hard because he slid and hit the ground.”
“But you were out there a while before that,” Marley persisted.
“Just chatting about nothing.”
Marley’s lips flattened. She’d seen the tears streaming down my face when I’d kneeled next to Will. She didn’t push further, but I knew it was time to come clean. I didn’t have a lot of faith in Leo’s ability to keep what he’d seen from Miranda. And my need to confide in someone felt more important than saving face. Marley wouldn’t judge me.
Although she might judge Will. And hadn’t that been my other reason for keeping quiet? I didn’t want to drive a wedge between my sister and James’s oldest friend.
There was a lot to consider, after five years of staying mum. Especially with Will lying in a hospital bed. Having tests run. After I’d hurt him. Even if it had been an accident.
I needed to focus on something else, just for a minute.
“Did you check in with Miranda?” I asked Marley.
“Yeah. She just texted that everyone’s finally gone home.”
Miranda and Leo had stayed back. Unsurprisingly, many guests had lingered to make sure the house and patio got cleaned up. No one wanted Marley and James’s engagement party to end with them coming back to a gigantic mess after spending hours in the ER.
Finally, Dr. McNulty came out holding a clipboard. We’d met her earlier when she told us Will was awake and talking, but that they were going to do a CT scan since he was most certainly concussed.
“I have good news,” the doctor said. “Mr. Yardley is going to be fine. Other than a concussion and some light bruising on his hip, we don’t see any signs of other major injuries. However, with his medical history, we want to be extremely careful with how we proceed.”
Medical history? I had no idea what she meant, and by the looks on Marley’s and James’s faces, neither did they. My mind went to Will’s hand.
The doctor apparently thought we knew much more than we did. She continued blithely, “Due to his previous concussion, and because he was in a coma for so long, we want to monitor his recovery. It’s possible his trauma could manifest differently. Or later than we’d usually expect. In cases of brain injury, it’s hard to know or make predictions. Also, the bruising on his hip would certainly be considered minor and manageable in another person, but because he has so many metal pins in his leg, there’s the possibility his pain levels will persist and need to be managed in a different way.”
Brain injury? Coma? Metal pins?
What the hell?
Marley and James also tensed, but the three of us kept nodding. God forbid any of us appear confused and make the doctor stop talking.
“We’d like to keep him overnight for observation, so you three should probably head home and come back during regular visiting hours or even in the afternoon because he’ll probably want to sleep for a while.”
James shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks so much, Dr. McNulty. We appreciate everything you’ve done for our friend.”
“Of course,” she replied. “Frankly, this could have been a lot worse. A Christmas angel was surely on his side. I’ve seen plenty of falls on the ice result in catastrophic injury.” I winced at the reminder I could have seriously hurt Will.
“Can we see him before we go?” James asked.
“Sure. But one at a time, and just for a few minutes. Mr. Yardley told the nurse he’d like to see Ms. Davis first.” James gave his fiancée a questioning glance as the doctor looked down at her chart. “Sorry. There’s a note here to make sure I say he’s requesting to see Ms. Maureen Davis.”
James’s inquisitive stare flew from Marley to me.
“I’m sure he just wants to reassure Maureen that he knows it was an accident,” Marley said, raising her eyebrows so I understood I was on borrowed time. She would be getting the whole story from me, and soon.
“Oh right, that makes sense,” James said.
I followed Dr. McNulty back into the small ICU area. There wasn’t much privacy. Heavy curtains separated the beds, although the only other patient I saw was an elderly woman who appeared to be sleeping.
Will’s eyes remained closed as I sat on the small stool beside his bed. Nearby monitors beeped rhythmically.
“Hi,” I whispered, not wanting to wake him if he slept.
Slowly, Will’s eyes fluttered open. He turned and gave me a lopsided grin. “Hi, yourself.” His words slurred. He raised his left arm and waved toward the IV bag. “Good drugs.”
I snorted. “You don’t say?”
He reached through the bed rail to put his right hand on my knee.
“Hey.” His grin widened.
“Hey.”
Knitting his brows, he flopped his head in a hazy shake. “Not you,” he said. Huh? I felt the ridges of the scars on his palm through my pants as he rubbed circles on my thigh. “Tonight. The ice. Not your fault.” Oh. I doubted he’d have been so bold without the good drugs as he continued, “You know, right? Not your fault.” He closed his eyes and exhaled thickly. “My fault. My…talking. Pushing. So sorry. Keep screwing up…with you.”
I moved my hand over his. I laced our thumbs, index, and middle fingers. My ring and pinky fingers curled over the stubs of his, and I squeezed, drawing his attention. He peered at me apprehensively. “No, Will. I told you.” Raising his hand to my lips, I kissed the back of it.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re not screwing up with me. And it’s not all your fault. We just burn hot, I think, when we’re together. This thing we’re trying to get past…it’s a lot. And when you’re feeling better, we should actually talk about it. And you can tell me your story. All of it.”
I’d realized over long hours in the waiting room that I’d allowed my fears and resentments to fuel me for too long. I didn’t want to be that brittle live wire anymore. It wasn’t me.
“I’d like that,” Will said, appearing more focused than when I’d come in.
After a few minutes, his eyes drifted shut and my gaze fell to our hands. I traced my pointer finger along his scars. They crisscrossed across his palm and the back of his hand like a pineapple. When he didn’t stir, I continued my exploration over his ring finger. About an inch remained, up to the first knuckle. The pinky had been severed entirely, a small mound of scar tissue the only sign it had ever been there. “What happened, Will?” I spoke quietly. A question to myself.
“Accident.” Will surprised me by responding. He took a deep, slow breath, eyes remaining closed. “I’ll tell you when I tell you…everything.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Sorry I got so upset I knocked you down.”
“Not your fault,” he mumbled, his hand slipping from mine as fatigue claimed him.
“When we’re back at the house, we’ll talk. I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.”
I wasn’t sure if he heard those last words as his breathing grew steady and even. Watching him asleep in the hospital bed reminded me of those bleak seconds on the sidewalk when he’d been unconscious. I’d known in that instant I’d been fooling myself about not wanting to hash things out with Will.
Because I finally understood that he’d lost something five years ago, too. He’d lost the possibility of us, just as I had.
Will had never once tried to minimize his lie or his other actions, and he never once told me I was blowing things out of proportion or that I didn’t have the right to feel the way I did. He’d never done anything other than continue to tell me how sorry he was, to humble himself and ask for my forgiveness, to let me know he’d wait for it, even as I insisted it would never come. To show me in every possible way he thought I was worth fighting for.
I returned to the waiting area. Even though Will slept, James wanted to see him before we left. “I can give him a fist bump while he’s resting,” James said. “I’ll feel better if I see him with my own eyes.”
I smiled at the sweet man who would soon be my brother-in-law.
After James disappeared into the ICU, Marley asked, “Did Will say anything? Before he fell asleep?”
“Yeah. You were right. He wanted to tell me it wasn’t my fault.”
She made a humming noise. “That’s it?”
“C’mon, Marls.” I slumped in the chair next to her. “You know that’s not it. But I’m not ready to tell you yet.”
She patted my wrist. “Maureen, you don’t owe me your secrets. But you’re my big sister, and I love you. Whenever you want to talk, I’m here.” Her cheek ticked. “You know, when I was giving you heck about bringing a date to the wedding, I honestly had no clue about any of this. I wouldn’t have teased you if I’d known the situation was…complicated.”
“Don’t worry about it. How about we table the conversation for tonight? I’m dead on my feet.”
“Same,” Marley said, tipping her head onto my shoulder and yawning.
A minute later, I snuck out from under her arm, needing to stretch the tension from my legs. I paced, and eventually found myself in front of another vending machine, deciding to complement my Twix with a seventy-five-cent Diet Coke. Drinking a soda at three a.m. wasn’t an issue. Years of working odd hours at Kolya’s translated to caffeine not affecting me.
Now that I’d spoken to Will, I felt more relaxed, able to focus on something other than worrying about him. And I had the perfect task to distract myself.
Pulling out my phone, I opened the camera app to the video setting and grabbed some quick footage of the empty hospital waiting room, being careful to avoid filming staff or anyone who might wander by.
Talking to Marley and Katy yesterday solidified my plan to make some fresh content for Fashion Vibes with Francesca and capture the spirit of Coleman Creek. A holiday tour of small-town America might not be totally in line with a fashion-oriented YouTube channel, but I didn’t care. Almost anything could be connected to the concept of style, and maybe viewers would be interested in finding out exactly where Francesca’s vibe had come from.
I knew this meant my worlds colliding, likely my identity unmasked, but with Kolya’s in my rearview, it was time for Francesca and Maureen to be the same person.
I filmed the vending machine, the paper snowflakes, the Christmas tree, the months-old People magazines, and a low table with photocopied coloring sheets and half-broken crayons. The linoleum and chairs in the main waiting area looked newer, but the wall behind the reception desk still had wood paneling, unchanged since my childhood.
The welcome bite of crisp December air hit me when I stepped outside. Continuing to avoid filming people, I captured both a wide shot and a close-up of the hospital signage. Then I panned across the roof and the icicle lights circling the ambulance bay. It would make useful b-roll.
A gust of wind whipped against my cheeks, and I tugged my beanie over my ears to make sure it didn’t fly away. But even with the chill, I felt more settled than I had in a while. I was making videos again. Will and I were finally ready to clear the air. I almost laughed. I wouldn’t, not with him lying in a hospital bed. But some sort of switch had flipped during this long night.
The past few years, Bren had harped on my lack of a personal life. She’d told me constantly I needed to “unclench.” I hadn’t understood.
But now, I knew what my best friend had been driving at. Because I could feel myself opening up. To new possibilities.
Opening up, not unraveling.