Chapter 5 #2
Mr. Daniels hands me a coffee before I head to the nurses' station. Janine is typing on her computer but looks up as soon as I reach the desk.
“You and sleep are still not on speaking terms, I see.” She raises an eyebrow, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
“Are you, Mrs. Nora, and my mom working together to sleep shame me?”
She chuckles. “I’m a mother, too. I don’t have to conspire with yours to see you’re running yourself into the ground.”
“That’s fair,” I grumble.
She stands and comes around the desk. “I know you want to see him. Come on. He just got back from his brain scan.”
“Did he do alright with all the testing?” I ask as we walk to Hud’s room. He was having an MRI of his brain and a CT of his lungs. If everything looks good, they’ll try to remove his breathing tube soon.
She gives me a compassionate smile. “He did well, all things considered.”
Good. He’s struggled enough.
Janine knocks lightly on the closed door before pushing it open. “I picked up a stray,” she jokes, walking into the dim room.
Hud doesn’t acknowledge her. His stare is distant, his fingers slowly rubbing the breathing tube lying across his chest.
He seems more awake this evening. I hope that means they’ve reduced his sedative.
I hover near the door while Janine quietly tinkers with some of Hudson’s equipment. She finishes up by logging in his chart, then gives me a shoulder pat on her way out.
Soft mumbling comes from the mounted TV, masking the beeping of the heart monitor. It’s a relief from the silence this room usually holds.
“Hey, baby,” I call from my spot by the door. He blinks slowly, but that’s all the response I get.
Resigning myself to just keeping him company, I sit in the pink cushioned chair that has become a fixture beside his bed. I reach for his hand that is still dragging along the breathing tube, but he lets it drop away to his side.
I swallow the sting and set my coffee down next to the small whiteboard. They were hoping he would use it to better “talk” to us, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched it at all.
Hudson starts fidgeting with something by his side, a hint of purple visible between his fingers.
“I got those for you—the bubbles.”
His hand stills, the bottle going slack in his grip.
The motion hits harder than it should, but I don’t let it deter me. “They’ve sort of become our thing, right? I saw them in the gift shop downstairs…”
A tear snakes down Hud’s cheek, the first emotion he’s shown since waking up. I lean forward and tentatively take his hand.
“Hud?”
He scrunches his eyes closed and grips my hand. His chest bounces with quiet sobs that can’t escape around the tube in his throat.
“Hey, hey, hey… baby, it’s okay.” I slide onto the bed next to him, careful not to disturb any of his wires. My hands gently cup his face, the contact soothing some of my jagged edges.
Hud opens his eyes, the blue bright and vibrant behind his tears. He blinks slowly, then a second time.
“No?” I ask him, hoping he’s trying to finally tell me something.
One blink.
“Yes?”
He closes his eyes, clearly frustrated that he can’t communicate what he wants to say. I grab the whiteboard and offer it to him.
“Will you write it for me?” He opens his eyes again and just stares. “Please?”
Lifting his hand slowly, he takes the board. It shakes as he positions it in his lap. Uncapping the marker, I hand it to him, and he begins to write.
“Not okay.”
“You’re not okay?” I ask, wanting him to clarify.
His hand swipes sluggishly across the words to erase them before writing again. “Nothing.”
Nothing. Nothing is okay.
“Hud… you’re alive. You're here, where you belong.”
His head shifts from side to side, the movement limited by the tubes and wires.
More tears stream down his face, and my heart squeezes, my own emotions trying to break free.
I need to be strong for Hudson.
Have to be.
My hand brushes his cheek, clearing the moisture away. “Hud, baby, will you look at me?”
He hesitates for a moment, his gaze slow to focus on me.
“You once told me you don’t want to be tiptoed around—that you don’t want to be seen as weak.” I swipe at another tear with my thumb. “Remember?”
I need to ask him this question, whether he is ready to face what has happened or not.
He gives me a singular, slow blink.
“Yes”
“The day you…” I take a fortifying breath. “The day you jumped. Did you listen to your heart or your head?”
His wide eyes search mine, fear staring back at me. I already know the answer, now he just needs to admit it to himself.
“You don’t have to be scared of the answer,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss his cheek. He shudders slightly at the soft contact.
“Did you listen to your brain?”
His tears flow freely, another slow blink that says so much.
“You want to know how I know everything is going to be okay?” His warm hand is clinging to mine now, a rough squeeze giving me another yes.
“Someone I love very much once said, ‘Never forget how strong you truly are. Our brains like to lie to us and tell us we can’t do things or that we’re weak. But it’s our heart where our courage truly lives. Listen to your heart. It will never lead you astray.’”
The air shifts around us as Hudson absorbs the words he gave at graduation just a few short weeks ago. He lets go of my hand and reaches for the whiteboard. He scrawls a rough few words, turning the board so I can see.
“Needed it to stop.”
I already knew that. It was in his letter.
He writes again, words that shatter me.
“Thoughts still here.”
I cup his cheeks, careful not to disturb his breathing tube. My eyes bore into his. “That’s your brain. What does your heart say?”
His hands shake, crying while he writes.
“Stay. Love you.”
My own tears trail down my face, dripping off my chin onto his chest. “Your heart will never lead you astray, Hud. Never.” I nestle into his neck, his weak arm coming around my back.
This isn’t his magic cure, I know that. But tonight feels like the first step forward.
And I’m more than happy to walk with him.