61. Chapter Sixty-One
My hands are sweating. I’ve been standing outside of Chris’s hospital room for twenty minutes and can’t seem to bring myself to walk inside. No idea what is stopping me. I can’t figure out if it’s guilt or the fear of seeing him connected to tubes and machines. Cole warned me on the way here that he doesn’t look good. It’s scary. I’m grateful for the heads up, but now I’m panicking. Yet I know it isn’t only about seeing him. It’s… what do I say? Will it matter? I guess it’s best to get everything off my chest. Maybe he can hear me. Maybe he can’t. But I have to at least try.
Cole went to the cafeteria to have something to eat. He told me to meet him down there when I was done and to take my time. Tabitha was home getting some sleep, so I shouldn’t be bothered. Mila was here with him earlier.
“You’ll feel better once you go in.”
A woman in blue nurse’s scrubs stops by my side, putting her hands in her pockets. I give her a sad smile. She’s pretty.. Maybe about Cole’s age. Light brown hair with matching eyes.
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m heading in to see how he’s doing. Want to come with me?” Her tone is so sweet and gentle. She sounds like a pro. A people-person. It takes a special kind of person to be a nurse, especially in a unit like this.
“Okay.”
She smiles and opens the door, stepping in first. I close my eyes for a second, take a breath, and walk in.
I stare ahead, afraid to look at Chris who I can faintly make out in my periphery.
The nurse walks over to him to check the machines. She pulls a small notepad from her computer and jots things down. I stop by the end of his bed and close my eyes.
What would Chris do if this were me? If everything was the same, but the only thing different was who was lying in that bed? Would he come visit me? Or was his hatred over what I did too much?
The answer hurts a lot. Because I don’t think he’d be here. I think he was too angry to see past it that he wouldn’t have. Though, I could be very wrong. And I guess I’ll never know.
I force my eyes open and sneak a glance at my friend. My eyes instantly well with tears. My bottom lip trembles, and my hand comes up to cover my mouth. It’s not that he looks awful, which he does, but it’s that he looks so unlike himself. If I didn’t know this was Chris, I wouldn’t know it’s Chris.
His face is covered in purple and red bruises. There’s a gash above his eye with stitches. His lip is healing from a cut. They’re dry and chapped. His hair is greasy and slicked back, longer than I’ve ever seen it before. There are tubes and wires coming out from what looks like every inch of him. Machines everywhere. I see all this on the outside but it’s the brain injury on the inside that’s causing this. Something I can’t even see.
“I know it seems like a lot, and of course it is, but he is comfortable,” the nurse explains.
“Thank you for that,” I choke out.
She moves around his bed and fixes his sheets and pillows. I just keep staring at Chris.
“You can use the chair here, if you’d like.” The nurse points to the chair beside Chris’s bed. I go to it and sit, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’ll be out of your hair in just a moment.”
I don’t respond. I stay in the same position, staring at my feet, until she leaves. Just before she goes out the door, she lets me know that if I need anything to press the call button, and she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with Chris.
I sit back, blowing out a breath, then turn to him. I spot all the machines, not a clue what half of them mean. They’re monitoring all sorts of things, but I couldn’t tell you what. I know nothing about any of this stuff.
The generic white blankets are pulled up tight to his chin, his arms resting over them. There is an IV in both hands, plus a monitor on his finger. He’s breathing on his own, so I think that’s a good thing. A lot of people in comas require ventilation, so maybe it’s a sign he’ll wake up soon? Or maybe I just made that up. I’m not a doctor.
I try to follow each wire that’s hooked up to him to figure out what it belongs to, but I keep losing track because there are too many. All it does is make me sick and sad. I hate seeing him like this. Hate being helpless. Hate knowing he could be like this forever. Would they leave him like this? Like a life-support thing if that’s an option? Or would they pull the plug and let him die? No, they wouldn’t be letting him die. If it’s only machines keeping him alive, then he isn’t alive. His parents wouldn’t be the ones killing him. They’d just be letting him go.
“Hey, Chris,” I say softly. “It’s Bryson.” I clear my throat, trying to decide what I want to say to him. After a moment, I decide I want to say it all because now is the time. I may never get another chance to say this to him. Whether or not he can hear me, I need to get this off my chest. So I just start talking.
“I know you’re pissed at me. I don’t blame you for that. What I did was fucked up. I know that. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to stop myself from giving in. I should have, but I couldn’t because I’m weak. Everyone knows this about me…” My words trail off as a thought hits me.
Everyone knows how I am. Knows I’m shy and quiet and weak. Except Cole. He is the only person who pushes me to do better. To come out of my shell and be the real me. Even my friends don’t do that. They accept me for what I show them, and tell me I’m a good person, but Cole pushes me to do better. Because he knows, deep down, the person I show the world isn’t really who I am.
Does Chris know that too?
The answer hurts, so I push it away because this isn’t why I’m here. I’m here to apologize to Chris for what I did. Beg for forgiveness. Clear my conscience.
“I wish I knew when it happened. My feelings for him? When we were young, I had an innocent crush on Cole. How could I not? At some point, being back here, it turned into more. I wish I could have stopped it from happening, but you know the universe likes to fuck with me.” I huff out a laugh, but really, it’s not funny. “I just want you to know that since that day, nothing has happened. And it won’t ever again. Hurting you is the last thing either of us wanted to do. I’m sorry I was weak before, but I won’t be ever again. You’re my best friend. You’re the person who has always been there for me. What you think matters, and I don’t want to ruin this friendship. I can’t. It’s all I have.”
I reach over and take his hand. It’s warm, but it feels strange to hold someone’s hand who doesn’t hold it back.
More tears fill my eyes, and they fall this time. Pour down my cheeks. I bow my head and allow myself to let it all out. I allow myself to feel everything. The anger, sadness, betrayal… the loss. Not just with Chris, but with everything. Growing up with my father. My mother. Cole.
Sitting here at Chris’s bedside, I know moving to Boston was the best choice I ever made. It’s the right thing to do. I need to leave this place behind and never look back.