Chapter 5
Caleb
Instead of mustering up another forced smile, I bow my head in deep thought as I fix my gaze on my feet while trudging down the all-too-familiar hospital corridor, with its sterile white tiles stretching endlessly before me. Acting like I’m trapped in my own thoughts is the only strategy that seems to work to brush off the curious glances of the hospital staff and patients alike.
It’s not like I need to look where I’m going anyway.
I know the way by heart now.
Of course, sometimes mishaps do happen on my way to his room.
Like bumping into strangers whose amber eyes look like they can see straight into a man’s soul.
The old Caleb would have used yesterday’s serendipitous encounter with such a gorgeous creature to ask for her number.
This version of me… didn’t even think of trying.
My heart just wasn’t in it.
But then again, not much is.
Doesn’t matter either way.
What would a beautiful woman like her want with a piece of shit like me anyway? It’s not like I have anything to offer besides pain and heartache. The old Caleb would have shown her a good time, even if only for a night.
This one… would just scare her.
I did us both a favor in letting her go on her merry way, never to see me again.
“You can always say no.”
She said those words when some nurse tracked me down to get an autograph and selfie. She was genuinely appalled by the nurse’s misconduct, so much so that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that shit like that happens to me every day.
“Everyone is entitled to privacy.”
Another humdinger of hers.
Before the accident, I might have said the same thing.
Not anymore.
Not when my family’s pain and suffering are exploited for the sake of higher ratings on the nine o’clock news.
Yet, I could tell she wanted to help me. Thing is… I’m beyond help.
So, I add the encounter to the long list of what-ifs.
She was just a hiccup in my routine.
A routine that’s become almost second nature to me now.
Hockey practice in the morning, hospital visits in the afternoon, and then check on Erin and the girls in the evening.
That’s the sum of my life now, and I fucking hate that I’ve settled into this new norm so easily.
Especially when it feels like I’m sleepwalking through most of it.
Still, I make a good show out of it.
I pretend that everything is good and dandy with me, that I’m still the same cocky asshole I was before. However, the minute I step into his room and close the door behind me, all pretenses vanish into thin air.
I take a fortifying breath and turn the corner, knowing I’m just a few feet away from the only place I can wear my scars without having to worry that someone is going to see them on display.
Upon entering Jack’s room, I quickly close the door while doing my best to ignore the overwhelming smell of antiseptic, the sharp tang stinging my nostrils. After I’ve locked myself inside, I swiftly draw the blinds down on the windows facing the busy corridor to give us some privacy. The sound of machines humming and beeping in a rhythmic chorus fills the sterile air, creating a dissonant and macabre symphony. Still, as I turn around to face my brother lying motionless in his hospital bed, the room suddenly feels suffocatingly silent, save for the erratic pounding of my own heart in my chest.
Ignoring my racing heartbeat, I pick up the chair stored in the corner of the room and place it by his bed. I then proceed to grab my brother’s hand and let out the pent-up breath that I’ve been holding since I woke up in the morning.
This has become another regular part of my routine—how I mechanically go through the motions, ticking off each item on my list before I can finally take a breath and reflect on the dismal life we’ve somehow found ourselves in.
Silently, I sit by my brother’s bedside and stare at the steady rise and fall of his chest as the ventilator assists his breathing while my mind races back to the vivid memory of the night that shattered our lives forever.
I remember every detail of that fateful night—the screeching tires of the truck just before the deafening crash and the chaos that followed. I recall in painful clarity the fear that gripped me when I saw my brother trapped against the steering wheel, battered and broken. The memory is so fucking intense that I can still smell the metallic scent of blood hanging heavy in the air around me.
There was so much blood…
So goddamn much.
I was out cold in my own hospital bed as the doctors worked tirelessly to save Jack’s life. They battled for hours to fix his spleen after it ruptured and did everything they could to stabilize his perforated lung.
But in the end, it was the brain hemorrhage that became the greatest threat to his life.
The emergency surgery to alleviate the pressure in his brain had been vital, prompting the need to induce Jack into a coma to increase his chances of survival.
But weeks have passed since that operation, and still, my brother lies motionless, trapped in a deep slumber. The doctors swear that his body is healing, but it’s his mind that remains a mystery to us all, locked away behind closed eyelids. The doctors offer words of hope, of possibilities of awakening, but the uncertainty gnaws at me like a relentless beast.
So, all I can do is hold his hand, hoping that somehow, somewhere deep in his subconscious, he knows I’m with him.
“Hey,” I say while looking at his gaunt, pale face. “You look about as good as I feel, Jack,” I try to joke, but it falls as flat as my heart feels. “You really are milking this, aren’t you? I mean, I thought I was the attention whore in this family, but you sure are giving me a run for my money.”
But like always, the only reply I get is the deafening sound of the heart rate monitor of his steady heartbeat.
A strong heartbeat is good, I tell myself.
It means he’s fighting.
Fighting to come back to us.
It’s a miracle he’s been able to hold on as strongly as he has.
But Jack was never one to go down without a fight.
I doubt the word quit is even in his vocabulary.
He never quit on me, and I gave him plenty of reasons to do it.
Speaking of which…
“So I guess I should start by telling you that I kind of got myself in trouble again,” I grumble, hating that it’s taken me this long to summon up the courage to tell him what’s been happening in my life lately. “Nichols threw me my own fucking intervention if you can believe it. Looks like I’ve become persona non grata for the club, but hey, you know I never lost sleep over not being liked. Still, it stings that everyone wants to force me to move on and get back to my routine when you’re lying here, unable to do the same.”
I stare at his face and imagine a scowl.
“Yeah, I know. I should stop bitching and just get on with it. But it’s hard when I look onto the ice and don’t see you there. It’s fucking unnatural, Jack,” I start to lament, needing to take a beat before I let my emotions get the best of me.
“You should see the fans in the stands, though. Every game we’ve played since… well, let’s just say that your jersey has been sold out for weeks. Everyone shows up wearing it to every game, and chanting out your name as loud as they can. I know you never liked being the center of attention but even you would be in awe of how much the fans love you.” I offer him a small smile while gripping his hand.
“Still, there’s a championship to win and a Stanley Cup to bring home.” I sigh, disheartened. “You can’t turn on a fucking TV without some sports reporter saying how the Guardians need to win this year as an homage to you. Like you’re gone or something. Like your dea—”
I take in another breath, but it does very little at this point.
“But you’re not gone. You’re here. You’re right fucking here, Jack! How can they talk about you like you’re not? It… just pisses me off.”
I drag my hand over my face and take in a deep breath.
“As you can see, I’ve been angry… a lot lately. If it’s not blind rage that gets me, it’s…”
I’m not sure how much of this is registering with him, but if something is, I don’t want it to be the sound of my anger. Or worse, my pain.
“Anyway, Erin and the girls are doing good. So is baby Donovan. Erin should know the kid’s gender in a few weeks, so you won’t want to miss that.” I smile meekly, glancing over at the white orchids in the room. “But I guess you already knew that since mom came to see you today. She’s doing okay. Or at least she’s trying to,” I explain while purposely omitting the fact that our mother hasn’t been able to look at my face once since the accident.
I don’t blame her, though.
I’ve had a hard time looking at myself in the mirror, too.
But she’s not the only one who I’ve pissed off lately. My best friend, Nate, has also been giving me the cold shoulder. Ever since the day I was pulled into Trent’s office to be given a good telling-off, Nate has been MIA.
But then again, can I really blame him for wanting to distance himself from me?
I’m sure it was a hard pill for him to swallow that his best friend almost died because of me on the same day he got hitched to the love of his life.
Yep, I really outdid myself this time.
“Anyway,” I start, wanting to bypass any talk of our mother and best friend, “I’m supposed to see some head shrink tomorrow. Seems I got a few screws loose up here.” I pretend to bang on my head to get the point across. “Not like you didn’t know that already,” I joke, and still nothing. “Wow, tough crowd,” I mumble, despondently scanning every inch of my brother’s face, wishing he would just open his eyes and look at me.
“It’s okay, Jack. I know this shit isn’t funny. In fact, it’s… fucking terrifying. Just… come back to us, Jack. Life doesn’t make sense without you in it. It feels all sorts of wrong. So stop fucking around and just come back to us, okay?”
When I feel the lump in my throat rise and the corner of my eyes starting to burn with unshed tears, I know my time is up.
“I’ll come and see you again tomorrow. Promise.”
I give his hand a tight squeeze and stand up from my seat, giving him one more glance.
“Love you, big brother. More than you will ever know.”
I then turn around and leave as fast as my feet allow. It’s only when I reach the hospital parking lot that I give way to my agony of seeing my brother like that.
Like a lifeless corpse ready to be buried.
Once I’ve reached a shadowy corner of the parking lot where my car is, tears cloud my vision as I reel my foot back and deliver the first of a series of kicks to its wheels. I shout and cry as I angrily pound my fists on the hood, causing more damage with each strike, uncaring for denting it even further.
I used to love cars.
Love them to the point of obsession.
Now, I fucking can’t stand the sight of them.
The only thing they’re good for is to let out all my anger on.
This is always how it goes.
I put up a good front all day, then fall apart the minute I leave his room and come to this parking lot. Once I’ve exhausted myself, I wipe the stray tears that stream down my cheeks with my sleeve and slide into my now-wrecked car.
“Pull yourself together, asshole,” I reprimand, flicking my gaze away from the rearview mirror.
I breathe in and out for a solid twenty minutes before I have the nerve to turn on the ignition to head over to Jack’s place.
This part of my day doesn’t get any easier either.
When I walk into my brother’s home half an hour later, the absent smell of food only adds to my sadness. Erin loves to cook, but ever since I took my brother away from her, the only meals she makes are for the girls and little else.
On lead feet, I bypass the kitchen and walk towards the spacious living room, finding Erin curled up on the couch with a blanket on top of her, staring into nothing.
“Hey,” I whisper, sitting beside her.
She gives me a curt nod, happy to continue to stare into the blank space in front of her.
“Where are the girls?”
“They’re already asleep,” she replies, her voice sounding hoarse from crying.
“Shit. I didn’t realize it was that late,” I say, quickly checking my phone to confirm the time—a quarter past eight, well past the girls’ bedtime.
“It’s okay.” Erin shrugs, still not looking at me. “I read them Goodnight Moon . They’ve been out for a while.”
Her words are devoid of all emotion, causing a physical ache in my chest.
“Have you eaten today?” I ask, wanting to snap her out of this fog she’s in.
“I don’t remember,” she admits absentmindedly.
“Okay. Let me make you something then,” I say, patting her knee before getting off the couch.
“I’m not hungry,” she says before drawing her knees up to her chest, unaware that she just gave me a perfect view of her face.
Damn it.
Erin’s eyes are red and swollen, the wet strands of her hair glued to her cheeks. She must have steeled herself to stop crying the minute she heard the sound of me inserting the key into her front door.
“E, you have to eat.”
She just turns her face away from me and hides it under the blanket.
“I told you, I’m not hungry.”
I swiftly snap the blanket off her.
“Well, I am, and you know how much I hate eating alone. So, I’m making something for us to eat. Okay?”
“Fine,” she relents with another noncommittal shrug. “Just don’t burn down my kitchen.”
“No promises.” I offer her a smile.
But before I go into the kitchen, I check on the girls, happy to see them both tucked in their beds, sound asleep. Erin might have given up on taking care of herself, but she is still present enough to ensure her girls are well taken care of.
Like me, Erin has her own routines.
She wakes up bright and early every morning to tend to her daughters, making sure that everything is as normal as it can be. It’s only after they’ve gone to bed that Erin allows herself to feel.
To wallow in her misery.
When I finally enter the kitchen—a place that used to hold the heart of this house—I check the refrigerator and see that it’s full of the girls’ favorite foods. I don’t dare touch any of it since I know it must have taken all of Erin’s energy to cook it, so instead, I open a cupboard to pull out some mac and cheese.
There’s no way I can’t fuck that up.
Or at least I thought.
Somehow, I managed to clump the macaroni together and coat the cheese powder evenly to it. Since there isn’t another box of the stuff for me to make a second attempt, I transfer the mess into two bowls and return to the living room, where Erin remains enveloped in darkness.
“Here, E. Eat this,” I hand a bowl to her. “It’s not fine dining, but it will do in a pinch.”
She stares at the food and scrunches her nose at it before taking a bite.
“I really need to teach you how to cook. This is abhorrent,” she chastises, but the little smile that tugs at the corner of her lips eases the knot in my chest.
“Do you want me to order takeout instead?” I ask.
“No. This will do. But if I throw up later, you’re on cleanup duty.”
“Deal.” I chuckle before sitting down beside her and grabbing a good spoonful of the stuff. “Fuck. You weren’t kidding. This is bad,” I groan.
“So bad.” She laughs softly, the melodic sound unfamiliar to us both.
Like it shouldn’t exist… like her laughter shouldn’t exist in a world where Jack is unable to hear it.
“How is he?” Erin asks, placing the half-eaten bowl on the side table.
“Good. He looked better today,” I lie.
“Really?” she asks with optimism.
“A little,” I lie again, not having it in me to tell her that he looks exactly the same as the last time she saw him.
“Your mom offered to babysit the girls tomorrow afternoon so I can visit,” she says, wanting me to tell her if it’s a good idea.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask instead.
“Would you?”
“Of course, E. Anything for you.”
“Thanks,” she says, and I don’t miss the sigh of relief she lets out.
You see… Erin stays clear from the hospital.
Or at least she tries to.
She can’t handle seeing her husband like that.
And I get it.
I fucking get it.
Seeing Jack like that, a man who was so full of life and energy, does something to you.
It makes you lose all faith. And right now, faith and hope are the only things that keep Erin going.
“You bet,” I feign a smile before placing my bowl on the coffee table, no longer in the mood to eat.
She throws me a sad smile before picking up the remote.
“Do you mind?” she asks, hesitantly pointing the remote to the TV screen.
I already know what she’s about to put on.
It’s the same tape she plays in a loop every night—her and Jack’s wedding.
“Go ahead.”
After she turns it on, she leans her head on my shoulder, and we both take in Jack’s glowing smile as he waits for his bride-to-be to walk down the aisle.
“I miss him,” she sobs softly after a while.
“I know. Me too.”
For the next couple of hours, we sit there watching one of the happiest days in Jack’s life play out on HD. Somehow, between celebratory toasts and chicken dances, we must fall asleep because the next thing I feel is a little hand on my cheek, pinching me awake.
As my heavy eyelids flutter awake, I come face to face with my niece, Cara.
“You should be in bed, princess.”
She throws a mischievous smile at me and then nestles her small head on my chest while sucking on her thumb. A quick glance to my side, and I see Erin balled up in the fetal position on the other end of the couch.
“Come on, princess. Let’s get you back into your room and let Mommy get some sleep. Okay?”
Cara nods, still sucking on her thumb as I pick her up in my arms. With my free hand, I cover Erin with a blanket and turn off the TV as well as the lights. I then walk back to the girl’s room, where baby Fiona is thankfully still sound asleep in her crib.
“There you go,” I coo once I’ve tucked Cara back in her bed, but before I have time to pull away, she grabs my hand.
“Did you see daddy?” Cara asks expectantly.
“I did.”
“Is he still sleeping?”
“He is.” I frown.
“Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”
“No, princess. I don’t,” I answer truthfully.
Her little forehead creases as if the answer isn’t good enough for her.
“It’s late, princess. You really do need to get some sleep.”
“Only if you read Goodnight Moon for me like momma does.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” I smile. “Scoot over.”
I lie beside her as best as I can in her tiny bed just so she can nestle her head on my chest and watch me flip the pages of her favorite book. After a few minutes, Cara’s breathing becomes labored, her chest rising and falling gently with each peaceful intake of breath, the rhythm of it lulling me into a sense of unexpected calm. As Cara drifts off to sleep, I am filled with a deep sense of love and protection, knowing that, at this moment, everything is right in her world. As she falls deeper into her slumber, she doesn’t have to worry about why her daddy is taking so long to come home.
Ever so carefully, I slip out of her bed, press a kiss on her temple, and then move over to her sister’s crib to do the same thing. I only leave after ensuring that all the women in the house are safe and sound asleep, knowing that tomorrow, I’ll be doing this exact same thing all over again.