Chapter 40
As I punched the button of the hospital’s elevator with one hand, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and leaned against the wall exhaustedly. Straight to the ICU unit, where my best friend was lying, hooked up to machines, not knowing if and when she’d wake up. My eyes flooded with tears, again, for the hundredth time today alone.
I missed Paul.
When I had opened the door to Nick, I’d known. Before he had even said anything to me. I knew my Paul was gone, and maybe Becks too, because Lucas would’ve been the one to tell me if he could’ve left her side.
I remembered hitting my knees, Trevor’s arms coming around me, and being incredibly grateful he’d stopped by to check on us that night after he’d learned about the situation.
That had been four days ago.
I brought Natasha to visit her mother daily, absolutely refusing to have her go anywhere else.
People kept encouraging me to have someone else watch her. Where else would that little girl go? She had been like a third daughter to myself and…Paul.
The elevator doors opened and I walked out onto the quiet floor to the nurse’s station.
The nurse today smiled gently at me, “No Nat today?”
“She’ll be in later.” I said. “Can I go in?”
She nodded, “Lucas went to shower in the lounge and we talked him into some food. You’ll have a little bit with her alone.”
“Any change?” I dared ask.
“Not really. The internal bleeding has stopped. She hasn’t coded again after that first time. The doctor said the broken bones and burns are healing really nicely. He thinks she’s not coming out of it to protect her mind. Sometimes our body is ready before our brain is to face things.” she spoke in a reassuring tone. I nodded vaguely and turned to walk into the room alone.
She looked too still compared to her usual demeanor. I hated the machines. Although it beat the alternative to seeing Paul four days ago. On a cold metal slab in the morgue. No machines. No sign of life whatsoever.
I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed gently, reaching over and touching her hand.
“Becks” I said softly. “You need to wake up. Nothing is your fault. I know you’ve been through hell, and you’re so tired, but it's over. They’re both gone. You’re free. I need you,” I said, starting to cry again.
“Please. Nat misses you and she’s so worried. She’s fine. She’s been so brave. She’s been mother henning us. Me and the girls. Taking care of us. She’s so much like you. Lucas is like a shell, Becks. He needs you too. You have to wake up. Nothing is your fault. Paul isn’t your fault. HE wouldn’t want this.” I covered my face with my free hand, sobbing softly.
“Mon” said Lucas’ low voice. He reached down pulling me up and hugging me close. “She’ll wake up. I’m not accepting any thought that she won’t,” he said, rubbing my back gently.
I nodded, trying to pull myself together again. My eyes hurt. They were actually faintly bruised from the amount of crying and emotional strain I was under. Who knew that could happen?
“Where’s Nat?” he asked softly, drawing back and taking me in.
“Trevor is bringing her in a while. He thought I needed to be alone for a bit. I’m trying not to let any of the girls see me like this,” I said.
“Grief is not anything to hide.”
“I know. I just…Nat is already going through so much and Lacey and Lexi are like robots walking around the house. Trevor has been over every day for hours helping. They don’t need a crying mother hovering around as well.”
“I don’t think they’d be looking at it like that,” returned Lucas. “Those girls may be waiting to see that it's okay to cry.”
I nodded, understanding. I was like a vase that had been broken and glued or taped together. I was going to shatter at any minute. I took a deep breath. “They said she’s healing nicely?” I questioned to deflect.
Lucas nodded, looking over where Becks lay. “Just needs a bit, I guess,” he said.
“Well she’s had four days!” I returned playfully, “She needs to wake the hell up!” I placed my hands on my hips and tried to give him my mom face.
He laughed, chuckling at me.
“Monica? Lucas?”
We both spun towards the hospital room’s door.
“Nan!? What the hell are you doing here?!” exclaimed Lucas. “How the hell did you get here?”
She sniffed as regally as she ever did and managed to look down her nose at him even though she was a full foot shorter. “I’m in my 80s, Lucas Wayne Marshall. I don’t answer to anyone any more.” She shuffled over to the couch and sat down gingerly, looking at my friend laying on the bed.
Lucas threw his arms up in the air and walked out of the room, probably to try to find the answer to how his grandmother had escaped senior housing.
I met her blue eyes across the room. “How are you, Vi?” I asked, politely.
“You call me Nan just the same as everyone else, Monica,” she replied. “I haven’t gone by Violet in ages,” she cackled. “How are you, sweetheart?” She gestured to me gently. I walked over, sitting beside her, and she clutched my hand in her own bony, wrinkled one.
“I’m okay, Nan,” I whispered.
“No. You’re not. But you will be. I remember how broken I felt losing my husband years ago. I was too young at that age. You’re even younger than I was. Much too young. I remember thinking I had to hold it together for that little boy that’s a man out there now. It's okay to be broken, Monica. You need to grieve,” she said, patting my hand.
I smiled tearfully at her and glanced at the bed again.
Nan followed my gaze, stood and shuffled over to the edge of the bed. “Rebecca, you need to open your eyes right now. My Lucas and everyone else needs you. This isn’t how I wanted to meet you in person,” she said, sternly.
I found myself laughing at the small elderly woman’s chastising. If anyone was going to wake up Becks it was Lucas’ Nan.