18. Jo
Chapter 18
Jo
Third Year of Residency
6 Years Ago, October
“ M a’am, I’m sorry. You are not family. I am not required to provide any information.” I can’t stop my hands from shaking while I grip the cold laminate of the emergency room front desk.
Furious. I’m furious. My brain feels like I’ve been hit repeatedly with a baseball bat.
“Someone get me Dr. Mac.” My voice sounds foreign against my own ear drums. The EMTs at the scene of our crash cleared me for head trauma, but Isaac was taken via ambulance to the MMCI Medical Center in the middle of Campustown. They let me hitch a ride here, but now these jerks won’t tell me anything about his condition.
I never even saw the headlights. He apologized to me before it happened, but nothing registered in my brain until it was done.
He apologized to me .
The fucker.
I walked away without a scratch.
And these fuckers won’t even tell me if he’s alive.
“Ah, Dr. Jo!” Dr. Aaron MacKenzie rounds the corner of the front desk into the waiting area where I stand. The tears that have been dammed against my eyelids threaten to break free the moment I lay eyes on him. Aaron was another member of our medical school cohort. Though we weren’t close friends, I would trust him with my life.
With Isaac’s life.
Do I hug him? Is that an appropriate reaction to seeing a classmate in this scenario? He reaches his right hand to me, and I grasp it with a small shake. Handshake, of course. Duh, Jo.
“Have you talked to any of Isaac’s family?” He drops my hand and leans up against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. This seems like an awfully laid back conversation to have when I don’t know anything that’s happening past those double doors.
I nod meekly, gesturing to the front desk staff. “I haven’t, but they said he’s on the way.” As if on cue, James Britlyn comes barreling into the waiting room through the automatic doors. Invisible blinders have him walking straight by me and directly to the front desk.
“I need information on Isaac Britlyn, he’s my son. Where is he? Is he okay?” His voice is nearly a whole octave deeper than Isaac’s, but sounds almost the same in articulation and tone.
I clear my throat quietly, “Mr. Britlyn?” He turns to face me, startled and stressed. Though it’s been years since we’ve last seen each other, the softening of the creases in his forehead tell me that he recognizes exactly who I am.
“Oh, Jo.” He steps towards me and pulls me into a tight hug against his chest. The dam breaks, and tears spill down my cheeks for the first time all night. We could have died. I could’ve lost Isaac. I almost lost every single shred of hope that we could ever be together. But he’s alive.
We both are.
I try to regain a semblance of control on my emotions, pulling back out of his arms and rubbing the back of my sleeve under each of my eyes. “This is Dr. MacKenzie. He was in class with us.” They shake hands and attention falls back to me. “I believe he was about to tell us about Isaac’s condition?” Attempting to prompt Aaron for more information, I raise my eyebrows.
“Oh yes, Isaac is awake. So far, CT shows no evidence of hemorrhage, but he is most definitely concussed. We’ll need to keep him here for observation, overnight at the very least.” I fill my lungs with oxygen slowly and let it all out in a forced exhale, one last single tear sliding down my right cheek.
Thank God.
If he was dead, I would’ve had to resurrect his ass just to kill him again.
“I should be able to let you see him relatively soon. We’re doing our best to find him a room.” Aaron nods at Mr. Britlyn before turning his attention to me once more. “It was great to see you, Jo. Even under these circumstances.” He reaches out an arm and wraps it around my shoulders.
Oh, now we’re hugging.
I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflection of the sliding glass doors. I’m an absolute mess. Blood. Isaac’s blood is crusted in my hair, and mascara has streaked down my cheeks with the abundance of tears that I’ve shed in the last ten minutes. It takes all my effort to keep from vomiting at the sight of myself.
Isaac’s blood.
As soon as Aaron releases me from his grasp, Mr. Britlyn takes my hand and guides me to the row of chairs against the wall.
“Sit down, Jo. You need to take a breather.” He gestures to a chair and sits down next to me. “You know as well as I do that the doctors are doing everything they can for him right now.” I nod silently as he gently squeezes my hand. “He’s a strong boy. He’ll be okay.”
“Family of Isaac Britlyn?” A nurse exits the double doors into the waiting area. Mr. Britlyn drops my hand and stands.
“Here, we’re here.” His voice catches her attention, and she strides towards us with a tablet in hand. She extends her right hand to him in an introduction.
“I’m Katie, Isaac’s triage nurse. He’s stable, and asking for food.” She chuckles. “We haven’t found a room yet, but we’re going to allow family in the triage area while we wait. I do have to warn you, he’s a little bloodied up.”
I grasp the armrests of my chair, watching the interaction unfold in front of me.Okay. He’s okay. He’s asking for food. I force myself to take another full inhale, expanding my chest until I can’t anymore.
“If you’re ready, I’ll take you to him now.” Katie escorts Mr. Britlyn past the front desk, but I remain glued to my seat. He stops abruptly as they reach the double doors that read Authorized Personnel Only and turns to face me, cocking his head to the side.
“Jo?” He retraces his steps, leaving Katie to check her tablet once more. I stand, meeting Mr. Britlyn halfway.
“Yeah? Can I get you something?” He scoffs, taking my arm and tucking it under his, ushering me with him. He leans over, pulling me just a bit closer, and whispers in my ear.
“You, my dear, are family.”
I’m not quite sure why a hospital feels so different when you’re on the receiving end of care. Or perhaps it’s the fact that I’m not the one making the medical decisions today. It’s making my skin crawl.
“Here we are.” Katie pushes open the door to a triage room, and the sight of Isaac bloodied and bruised makes tears spring forward once again. He’s alive. Isaac is alive, and his eyes are open and he’s talking. He’s okay. We’re okay. He pushes himself up in the bed, tugging down his hospital gown in an effort to make himself more presentable.
“Hey kid,” Mr. Britlyn approaches the bedside and runs a hand over the top of Isaac’s head, following his touch with a kiss to Isaac’s forehead. I physically can’t get my feet to enter the room any further than just inside the door.
“I’ll be back to check on everything in just a bit. Hopefully we’ll have a room set up for you soon, Isaac.” Katie leaves and the room falls eerily silent, the murmurs of the room TV just loud enough to detect over the air conditioning.
For the first time since we entered the room, Isaac glances up to find me awkwardly by the door, alternating between standing and leaning against the wall.
“Please come over here and sit down before you upset me. I’m already all broken up because of you.” Isaac’s delivery is cold, and I’m completely taken aback, looking between him and his father. Before I can respond, he lets loose a massive grin, patting the mattress next to him. “C’mon Dr. Carello, I’ve had a rough night. I could use a friend.”
I roll my eyes. Oh, you’ve had a rough night? Typical fucking Isaac.
He’s alive. And he’s picking on me.
Tonight could’ve gone so differently.I saw the headlights behind Isaac’s head when he apologized, but my response stayed lodged in my throat until impact. The life that we built together played like a movie as the other car blew their stoplight and barreled toward us. I almost lost it all.
I approach the bed and take a seat, wrapping my fingers around his right wrist.
“I’m glad you’re alive, or whatever.” Visions of my car, smashed and broken, flash through my brain. The EMTs pulling Isaac out of the driver-side window. The neck brace. The stretcher. The flashing lights in my eyes.
His left hand pins my fingers against his arm. “Stop taking my pulse. I’m fine.”
Busted .
“Ughhhh…” I grab my neck, blinking until my contact lenses aren’t glued to the insides of my eyelids.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Isaac pushes his glasses up on his nose and rests his phone down on his lap, studying me as I stretch.
“Oh sure, you let me sleep all curled up in the fetal position in this chair, and you look mighty comfortable in that bed,” I stand from my makeshift bed, glancing around the room. “Where’s your dad? And where can I get some coffee?”
Isaac pushes a mug towards me on his rolling tray table. “I asked the angel woman who brought me breakfast for an extra.” He grabs a small piece of toast and shoves it in his mouth. They were never able to find Isaac a permanent room, so we’re still holed up in the triage room from last night. The east-facing windows provide an incredible amount of natural light directly at the bed he’s currently rolling around in, trying to find a comfortable spot. Lucky for me, the chair I slept in faced away from the sun’s morning laser beams. “My dad left around midnight. You were already conked, so I told him to just leave you there.”
No recollection of that…
I take a step towards the bed and wrap my fingers around the brown plastic coffee mug, peering into the cup.
“Don’t worry, I already added your creams and sugars.” He smirks, flipping his phone over to check the screen. I take a sip of the coffee, forcing myself to swallow the dark-roast acid with an auditory gulp. “I’m honestly shocked you didn’t spit it right back out.” Isaac lets out a hoarse, guttural laugh and I groan, setting the mug back down.
“You knew it was disgusting and you still let me drink it? You punkass.”
“Well, you did keep me up all night with your snoring, so I feel like I’m justified.” He pushes a plate of fruit towards me, “Eat something.”
“I do not snore!”
A crash in the hall catches both of our attention.
“Where. Is. He?!” A shrill, adenoidal voice impales my eardrums as both Isaac and I turn our attention to the door.
“Ooh someone’s upset,” I chortle. “Maybe she also got forced into drinking the shit coffee.”
“Ma’am, I need you to calm down and tell us who you’re looking for,” someone at the nurse’s station replies, just loud enough for us to hear.
“My fiancé! He’s here, I know he is!” Panic infuses her pleads.
“Ma’am, please, his name?”
“Britlyn. Isaac Britlyn.”
Wait, what? My head is suddenly filled with a high-pitched buzz that I can’t shake, no matter how many times I blink or clench my jaw.
“Shit.” Isaac’s voice is low and uncontrolled, pushing the tray table away from his chest. The door flies open, bouncing off the rubber stopper, but a long, manicured hand reaches out to stop it from rebounding.
I rub my eyes with my knuckles, absolutely certain that I am imagining this. I must also be severely concussed.
“Oh my God, there you are! I got here as soon as I could, and I was running around and I thought you were dead!” I’d venture to guess, based on her flushed cheeks and disheveled blonde hair that she was, in fact, running.
Before I have a chance to react, her panicked eyes land on me.
“Jo?” Wrapping her hands around Isaac’s arm, the sun reflects off the massive diamond on her left ring finger. I thought the worst had happened. I thought I lost him today, but now I know that I actually already had.
“Victoria.”
“Please call me back. We need to talk about this.” Isaac’s voice escapes from my phone speakers for the sixth time in two days. The relentless calling and texting makes me want to drive my head straight through the wall of my apartment.
It truly feels like the last week of my life was a fever dream. First the conference, then finally feeling like Isaac and I could move on from our past and be friends.
And then Victoria.
I place my phone face down on the table again, popping the top to my second beer. The walls of my apartment are decorated with ghosts and pumpkins, and a bowl of assorted chocolate and sour candy sits ready for trick-or-treaters. I’ve always loved Halloween.
I glance out my window into the dog run, spotting Louis and Bunny playing fetch. No matter how incredibly broken I feel inside right now, a few little princesses and Spidermans will surely improve my mood. Sitting down on the couch, I flip through the typical cable channels looking for my yearly tradition.
“Ah, there you are Michael.” I whisper to no one, selecting the 1978 John Carpenter classic. “Just in time.” The eerie theme music fills my apartment, reminding me of the times that Isaac and I drank beers and watched Michael Myers rampage through the fictional town of Haddonfield, Illinois. For all intents and purposes, Haddonfield could have been exactly where we were.
“Michael’s headed for us next!” Isaac would say, attempting to get a rise out of me.
But not even Michael Myers scares me now.
I’m just numb.
“Maybe you should come find me, Michael.”
A tiny knock at the door startles me out of my pity party. I’m sure my FBI agent is sick of me being in such a funk. Exchanging my beer for the candy bowl, I pull the door open.
“Trick or treat!” A group of four boys, not older than six or seven, stand ready with their bags open. Green costumes with corresponding purple, red, blue, and orange masks. I laugh, dropping candy into each of their bags.
“Where’s Splinter?” I glance back down the breezeway to see a tiny human running towards me dressed in a rat costume. A woman, who I presume to be their mother, approaches from the sidewalk, her arms folded against her chest.
“Splinter couldn’t hold his pee any longer,” she chuckles, placing a hand on top of the youngest boy’s head. “We had to make a pit stop.”
“Well friends, I’m so sorry I don’t have any pizza for you!” All five boys stare up at me silently while their mom laughs.
Using her hand to shield her mouth from the boys, she whispers, “They’ve never seen the Ninja Turtles. They just liked the costumes at the store.” We both laugh as I drop a few more pieces of candy into each of their bags for their commitment to the bit. They head back down the hall and out onto the sidewalk, headed to their next house. The door closes behind me with the click and I return to my spot on the couch, letting my brain wander to Ninja Turtle puzzles with Sam Britlyn.
“Dammit, my beer.” I roll back off the couch towards the entryway table when a knock sounds against the door, a little more aggressive than the last. “Okay, okay, hold your horses.” I pull the door open, leaning over to grab the bowl, but in the very next instant, it falls from my grasp, individually wrapped pieces of candy flying every which way.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I yell, kicking the candy bowl to the side. Isaac pushes his way inside the door, and it slams closed behind him. “How did you find me?” My voice is shaky, but dammit, I can’t control it.
C’mon Jo, keep it together.
“The nice gentleman with the rabbit dog told me where you lived.” He begins gathering candy from the ground in the entryway while I pace the living room.
God dammit, Louis.
“I don’t want you here, Isaac.” He stands to his full height and looks me dead in the eye, crossing the living room and sitting his ass right down on my couch. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Halloween. Classic.” He laughs, leaning back and placing his arms over the back of the couch. “Every single year.”
I take two quick paces toward him, winding up and slapping him square across the cheek. Motherfucker, that hurt my hand. But he deserves it.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Isaac? Talking about the movie?” I throw my hands up in the air in pure frustration. How dare he come into my home and act this way after everything.
It’s been nearly a week since I swallowed my pride and walked straight out of that hospital room. Victoria looked at me with so much disdain that I might as well have been the world’s most wanted criminal.
For my whole life, I’ve let people walk all over me. I’ve let friends and family put their own needs and interests before mine. I let Isaac use me in hopes that one day he would turn around and see me. Want me. I assigned such deep meaning to every word that came out of Isaac’s mouth. It was never what I wished it was, and now it never will be.
No more.
Cold turkey.
Before I have the chance to speak again, he’s walking towards me. “Listen, I am so sorry. I had no idea she was going to show up. The timing was horrible.”
Fury rises in my stomach and I feel my cheeks flame. “The timing? The timing?!” I yell. “You have never chosen me, Isaac.”
“Jocelyn, please. Let’s figure this out.” His body is too close.
“Do. Not. Call. Me. That.” My fingers grip the counter with such force that they begin to numb. “I have dealt with enough bullshit from men for a lifetime. I thought you were the exception. I thought you were on my team.”
He steps back and clutches his chest as though I’ve shot him. “That is so fucked up, Jo. We haven’t been on the same team for years! Did you expect me to sit around and wait for you?”
My rage turns into pure manic laughter like the flip of a switch. “I’m fucked up? Oh , I’m sorry !” I push my body away from the countertop and shove my fists against his chest over and over and over. He doesn’t budge and it fuels my hate fire even more.
A knock on the door breaks my focus once again. “We’re out of candy!” I yell, but the knocking continues. Just me. I’m out of candy.
“Jo, are you okay in there?” Bunny’s yips echo through the breezeway outside.
“I’m fine, Mr. Lou, thank you!” My throat is tight with anxiety. Never once has this man checked on me. A million fights with Andrew.
Not once.
Footsteps and miniature barks fade into the distance, and I turn my attention to Isaac for the last time.
“Hear my words.” I let out a shaky breath. “I never want to see your face again.”
“Jo, please.” His eyes are filled with sincere sorrow, but I deserve more. I deserve to put myself first. I deserve to mend my own heart. I grab the door handle, a cool October breeze inviting itself in when all I want is him out.
“Get. Out.”