Chapter 38 Jericho
JERICHO
ONE MONTH LATER
The house is complete. As I look around and take in every small detail I’ve created, I give myself a pat on the back.
It took a lot of blood, sweat, and some tears as I purchased paintings to hang up around the house when I pictured Raiden’s face as he examined them.
They all remind me of him. Everything in our house reminds me of him.
And as soon as he wakes up, I’ll bring him home.
I’ll shower him in attention and never let him leave my sight.
It’s been one month of waiting on pins and needles for one of two things to happen. Best case scenario: Raiden wakes up. Worst case scenario: Josh goes to the police and reports me.
Neither has happened, so I guess life could be better or worse so I shouldn’t complain.
I have plans later to go to work for a little bit and help Hollis out sorting through paperwork for our next job.
I’ve been slowly getting back into the groove of working, taking local cases and committing as much time to them as I can.
The one thing I’ve been adamant on is never working later than five.
Every day after work, I head straight to the hospital and sit with Raiden until visiting hours are over.
Ema and Rodney have been staying there with him every night, giving me the space to work on myself.
I can’t let Raiden wake up and see how much of a downhill slide I’ve been on without him. He would be so disappointed.
It’s been trial and error trying to figure out how to live on my own in this big space. The windows that face the front yard, leaving a clear sight to the street, are covered in a thick curtain that I’ve started pulling back during the day to let some sunlight in.
Call it whatever you want, but after I left Josh’s house and drove down back road after back road, blaring music and trying to figure out how I need to get my life together, I had an epiphany.
Or more like an epiphany was forced upon me when I saw a random sign off the side of the road advertising for a new therapist’s office opening in town.
It could have been a ploy to get willing victims to walk in the front door and then they would skin me alive and wear my body as a meat suit. Or they could be trying to get clients.
I showed up, bloody knuckles and all, and the therapist saw me immediately.
Dr. Kincaid had experience in PTSD, especially in people who served in the military.
His background in the marines provided him with more insight than a typical therapist could normally give me, and his acceptance of my dark humor made me not feel like such an outsider.
Not everyone understands that sometimes you have to make jokes of the shitty things in life to be able to move past them.
Connor, Hollis, Ace, and the other guys have been cool, too.
We started doing our football scrimmages again, and last weekend they all came over after and we had a cookout.
There was one noticeable person missing when everyone else showed up, but we kept his memory alive as I shared stories of him.
It didn’t hurt as bad. The wound in my chest has gone from a gaping hole to a healing wound.
It hurts, and if I focus on it for too long I can feel the pounding ache. But it’s not as detrimental as it was.
I’ve been holding on to the hope for when Raiden wakes up, we can continue this tradition.
Having our friends and family come over.
Spending nights alone, just the two of us tangled in the new baby blue satin sheets I bought for our California King bed.
There’re so many memories I plan on making, and every day he’s not here.
Instead of focusing on that, I think of new things for us to do together.
I have a list on the stainless steel fridge in the kitchen of all the activities I want us to try together.
What started as a small checklist has turned into four pages waiting for the tick marks to be checked off.
I put up the final dish I used to make breakfast, my own spin on dango with a sweet sauce.
It’s not anything like Ema’s, but I did use her recipe.
Maybe it just takes time to master it. Or maybe she’s just better at it because it’s a part of her heritage.
Whatever it is, I won’t let it deter me from still trying.
I want to be able to provide Raiden with parts of his heritage even when his mom isn’t here to do it for him.
I pop one of the small dumplings in my mouth, satisfied with the taste and the consistency. I chew through them as I scroll through the emails on my phone, checking the one’s from Hollis and the other ones waiting in there.
My mom spread word around town of my woodworking business as she likes to call it.
I keep getting requests for customs pieces.
My turn around time has been slow, but people don’t seem to mind because they keep my inbox full.
Last weekend, I finished up a set of custom shelves for the library.
It didn’t take very long, but it was a fun project and to see the smile on my mom’s face as she started loading it up made it worth the late night I stayed up sanding it to make it look perfect.
My phone rings in my hand, the loud sound cutting through the silences of the house. Speaking of the devil… “Hey mom,” I say, biting through the dango and trying to avoid spilling the sauce on my clothes.
“Get to the hospital,” she says, frantically. I can hear her breaths puffing through the phone as she races around doing whatever it is that she’s doing.
“What?” I question dumbly because I’m obviously too focused on my breakfast to truly take in what she’s saying.
“Get to the hospital now, we’ll meet you here.”
“Wait–Mom, slow down. What’s going on?” My heart races in my chest as I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can run to my front door and put my shoes on.
Cursing the laces as I do because I was too lazy to untie them last night when I got home.
I knew I shouldn’t have just slipped them off, but I was too tired after I stayed up working on the wishing well for the Carpenter's house.
“You need to get to the hospital, I can’t tell you right now what’s going on. But you need to trust me Jericho.” I can hear her car dinging and my dad saying something to her, and then a door shutting loudly.
“Okay, I’m about to leave my house now.”
“Be careful, Jericho. We love you.”
Going into the garage, I automatically go to get into my truck, pulling open the door before my eyes catch on my motorcycle. It’s been so long since I’ve rode it, not wanting to replace the last memory on it with Raiden.
But.. this is what my life is now. I spent months grieving, holing myself up until there was nothing left of me except dust. I’m changing that now, I’m doing things for me.
I get out of the truck, and carefully maneuver my bike between the wall and my truck. Knowing my luck, I’ll scratch the entire side and piss myself off.
It’s been a while since I’ve straddled it, feeling the intense weight underneath me and trying to adjust my position so my prosthetic can hold up against the weight.
I start the engine, feeling it purr and I grin to myself. The joy of having a bit of freedom slaps me in the face. I’ve been truly neglecting myself.
But as I strap on my helmet and take off down the road to the hospital, feeling the warm breeze blowing past me, I feel free. When Raiden comes home, I’m going to be taking him for rides every chance we get.
Pulling into the parking lot of the hospital, I park beside my mom, in between her car and Ema and Rodney’s.
My parents are waiting in the lobby of the hospital, and when they see me through the window they rush out to greet me. Before they can pull me into their arms, I ask to chuck my helmet in their car so I won’t have to worry about it while we’re in the hospital.
My mom holds my hand as we walk in and the entirety of the situation hits me. We’re going to the hospital. I was told to rush to the hospital as soon as I could and my mom wouldn’t tell me why.
Surely it can’t be anything bad, especially if my mom isn’t crying.
Yet as we take the elevator up and I’m hit with the smell and the remembrance of all the hours I’ve spent here, I can’t help the bubble of dread that forces itself up my throat. I want to gag, to dispel the negative feelings and purge them from me.
There’s no one waiting outside of Raiden’s closed door. It’s hardly ever closed anymore. We decided to keep it open to help with the air flow and the stream of nurses stopping by to say hi. Everyone loves Raiden, even when he’s not awake and able to talk, he still is leaving his mark on people.
“What are we waiting on?” I twist the doorknob in my hand, feeling the cold metal seeping into my skin and I freeze. What if I’m not ready to see what’s waiting for me on the other side of the door? I can’t let my hopes get up that Raiden is actually awake.
But I’ve been waiting for this moment for months and drawing it out any longer isn’t going to prevent the inevitable.
No matter what’s waiting for me on the other side of this door, I’m strong enough to face it head on.
I push it open, the quiet creak of the pressure the only thing letting me know that I’m actually entering this room that I’ve spent countless hours in, watching Raiden and filling him in on all the small details he’s missing out on.
Ema and Rodney are the first that my eyes flit to, both of them sitting on the seat beside Raiden’s bed. The two of them wrapped in each other and there’s tears streaming down their cheeks.
I choke out a breath, realizing that in those few minutes I did let my hopes grow.
I let them take root and grow into large, cumbersome trees that I’ll never be able to get rid of.
I can cut them down and dispose of them, but they’ll always find a way to grow back, stronger than ever.
That's the fickle thing about hope, no matter how hard you try not to have it, it’s always there in the back of your mind, holding onto the moment and waiting for the most inopportune time to show itself.
“Are you going to come over here and kiss me or stare at my parents all day?”