80. Kendall
Kendall
Iget the phone call five days after he dropped me off at my apartment and fell off the face of the earth. I knew even before answering the phone that something had gone terribly wrong. His mom explains what happened to him—without losing her shit somehow—and my heart shatters.
Abducted? Beaten?
What. The. Fuck.
She’s still talking but my ears are ringing and my chest feels tight.
I start rubbing my sternum to try and ease the ache.
This doesn’t actually happen to people that you know.
This is the kind of thing that lurks in darkness, that people discuss in hushed whispers.
The stuff of nightmares. The kind of horrifying stories that make headlines and are broadcasted on the five o’ clock news.
These are tragedies that happen to other people, but not yours. Not your person.
Not to Kai.
“Is he okay? Where is he now?” I hear myself ask as paralyzing fear coils around my bones. I’m definitely in shock, barely able to process her words.
This has to be some sort of mistake. Everything would be okay. He would be okay. He has to be.
“No, not really. He’s in surgery right now for his knee. It will probably be a few hours. It’s not good though. He needs you, Ken. I think he’s going to need you more now than he ever has,” she replies quietly.
I need to be with him as soon as possible.
“Okay I’ll be there in an hour. Do you guys need anything?”
“We’re okay. Just bring yourself, love.” I try to wrap my head around the situation.
How someone could do this to the person I love.
Tears fill my eyes when I start thinking about how terrified he must have been, how alone he probably felt.
All because he was trying to do the right thing by Aiden.
I’m sure I’ll kill him if he ever sets foot in Boston again.
Is he scared now? How severe are his injuries? Did he try and fight back? What happened after he was attacked? Did he escape or did they let him go?
The questions replay in my mind on a loop. Questions I need answered but don’t necessarily want answered. I drop Akio off at my moms shortly after calling them and head to the hospital.
When I step inside his room, I’m relieved to find his father is nowhere in sight.
A sterile cold smell mixed with antiseptic immediately assaults my nostrils.
The room is small, painted in a pale blue with a couch on one side and a few hospital chairs scattered throughout.
There’s a tiny bathroom to my right and a whiteboard detailing Kai’s care plan.
Anela is perched in the corner sitting in her wheelchair and staring out the window, an absent look on her face.
“Kendall,” she says, tears brimming her eyes.
“Thank god you’re here.” I walk over and bend down to hug her, embracing her tightly.
Maybe her strength and optimism would rub off on me somehow.
Maybe I could absorb her pain if I hold her long enough.
I’m not sure. I just know we both need each other.
Two hours pass and finally, Kai’s dad enters the room, stopping short when he makes eye contact with me. He looks exhausted, disheveled, and uncertain about how to handle the situation.
“Kendall, I didn’t know when you were coming. I can wait somewhere else,” he suggests.
“No, it’s fine. I think we’re all going to be here for a while. We might as well accept that and get comfortable,” I respond.
It’s a temporary truce, a ceasefire so that we can all support Kai however he needs us to. And honestly, I don’t even care about the issues with Kai’s dad anymore. I just want him to be okay.
He nods and plops down in a chair next to Anela, letting out a long sigh. He hands a coffee to her silently and she thanks him. But her words are clipped and she doesn’t spare him a glance.
Is it because the last time he saw Kai they had been at each other’s throats? Or because he is now in a four-hour surgery that’s taking over five hours?
I’m not sure. But their vibe seems off.
I’m so tired from stress, anxiety, and lack of sleep that I nod off while waiting for him to return from surgery. When I wake up, he’s lying there immobile in the hospital bed and Anela is holding his hand.
He’s okay. He’s here. He’s out of surgery.
But when I scan his body, I have to swallow the lump sitting in my throat to keep from sobbing uncontrollably.
I’m afraid if I start crying, I will never stop.
He is here but he is nearly unrecognizable.
He definitely isn’t okay. Both his eyes are purple and swollen.
A large gash trailing from his hairline to his cheek.
He has sizable bruises and cuts on his face, red welts circling his wrists, the skin around it chapped, broken, and tinged with dry blood.
The presence of the marks indicating he was forcibly held against his will.
And I knew that it had happened. But knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
His left leg is elevated, his knee supported in some sort of bracing, metal rods poking out of either side.
And these are only the parts of his body I can see.
I’m too chickenshit to even consider the wounds that aren’t visible.
I can’t open that box yet. He has an IV and lines running from his arms to a machine that administers medicine, a pulse ox resting on his right index finger.
He’s relying on a ventilator, and for some reason, that is what breaks me.
It takes every ounce of strength I can muster not to crumple to the floor at the sight of him.
How is Anela suffering through this? How is she surviving right now? How is he?
I suck in a deep lungful of air and attempt to steady my breathing.
I’m so fucking furious that someone did this to him but also grateful that he’s alive.
And I guess that’s exactly what hospitals are, places of so many dueling emotions.
Gratitude and anger, hope and heartache.
Cursing the gods in one breath and praying to them in the next.
I want vengeance, retribution. I want the blood of the people who had done this to him.
“His surgery went well,” she whispers while I’m deep in thought.
“I didn’t want to wake you but he did good.
He might need some smaller surgeries after this.
And he’ll be in physical therapy for a while.
But he’s going to be okay. He’s only on the ventilator for a little longer until they are sure he’s stable. ”
“Oh okay. Good. Sorry I wasn’t awake when he came back,” I respond quietly, shifting so that I’m sitting upright in the chair.
“It’s okay. He knows you’re here.”
I give her a half smile and thread my fingers through his other hand delicately. I kiss his battered knuckles and tell him I love him and to never scare us like this again.
Later that evening, the ET tube gets removed but he remains asleep. The doctors say his body has been through so much trauma and pain that he will need to spend a lot of time resting.
Two days go by and eventually, Kai regains consciousness. With each passing hour, he appears to be a little more lucid. I stay by his side for those two days, only returning home to shower and check on Akio.
On the third day, I feel his hand shift next to mine. When I peer up at him, his eyes are open and the corners of his mouth are turned up.
“Hi,” he says, his voice rough and gravelly from being intubated for so long.
“Hi,” I breathe. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.” He attempts a grin, but winces. He brings one hand up and runs it gently over the bruises and lacerations on his face.
“Kai, I thought—I didn’t know what was going to happen to you,” I blurt out.
“I’m so happy you’re okay,” I whisper, tears in my eyes.
And I know okay is relative, I know he isn’t really okay.
That he’s been through something akin to hell, suffered through things that others might not have survived. But he’s alive and that’s enough.
“I know,” he says. “Me too.”