Gabe （24 Hours Later）
“I’ve got your drawing,” I tell Jason, “and I’m adding me to the back. Just like you wanted.”
I narrate my entire life now and ask Constance and Dr. Shiffren a thousand questions every time they come in, because I want to know everything.
I need to be Jason’s voice.
“When you wake up, we’re going to get this framed and hang it in our new place. I was thinking we could get a spot closer to Torren’s shop. There are a few apartment buildings over there that I think would be nice.” I take a beat to squeeze my eyes shut.
“The CT scans show swelling and bruising of the brain. It’s a traumatic brain injury, and the next forty-eight hours are crucial.”
Doctor Shiffren’s voice echoes in my mind.
“That way I could walk to work,” I add shakily, doing everything in my power not to get lost in hopelessness.
“I won’t have to pay for the bus anymore, which will help save money.” The room is silent except for the equipment that’s keeping Jason alive.
“I’ll miss the forest near the trailer, but maybe our new spot will…will have…”
I drop the pad and pencil onto my lap and scrub my face with my hands.
Don’t lose it. Be comforting.
I let my gaze linger on him for a bit before scooting my chair a little closer and whispering, “You know, once we have our own place, I was thinking we could get a sling. I want you to fuck me in a sling again; that was so hot.”
The room is cold, and the air smells like antiseptic and mint. I lean a little closer and breathe in Jason’s scent.
And that’s what tips me over the edge, because the very real possibility of never smelling him again makes me want to die.
I might never smell him again.
His lips might never touch mine.
He may never wrap his arms around me during the night and squeeze me close like a human teddy bear…
Teddy Bear.
I grab my phone to text Mom.
Me: Can you bring Smudge? That’s our bear in the bedroom.
Mom: Yes. I’m coming later tonight. I let Doug know what happened. I had to.
“Oh, God.”
Just as I’m about to text her back, Doug walks into the room.
His breath hitches when he sees Jason, and he freezes.
Slowly, his hand rises to cover his mouth.
He says nothing. Just stands completely still, looking at his son.
We’re both silent—Doug looking at Jason, while I stare at him, waiting for him to do…something.
“I knew this would happen,” he mutters, his face shaking and turning red. “I knew it!” His voice echoes in the room, and I shudder.
“I fucking knew it, but nobody listened to me. Nobody listened,” he bellows, pacing back and forth with his arms flailing about.
This is exactly what the Doctor said we shouldn't be doing around Jason, and I’ll be damned if I let this happen, so I stand up and say, “Shut your mouth.”
Doug freezes, his eyes widening with disbelief. “What?” he says with exasperation.
“The doctor told me the next forty-eight hours are crucial. They told me to talk to Jason as much as possible, and the last thing we should be doing is freaking out like this. Jason—”
I almost say Jason might be able to hear us, but I can’t think that way.
“Jason can hear us. We need to be comforting, so calm down.”
“Are you serious?” He steps closer. “You’re actually telling me how I should be reacting to this?”
I close the distance between us, get right in his face, and speak with a low, deliberate voice.
“Look at me, Doug. Do I look serious?”
It’s a standoff between two men: one who wants to play the role of protective father and another who is actually protecting the man he loves.
Doug’s chest heaves as he stares at me. “He’s my son.”
“So, act like his father.”
He gasps.
For a moment, I’m afraid he’ll lose it again. Maybe even punch me…
Then, a tear falls. He tries to wipe it away, but the tears keep coming. “What did they say?” he asks in a shaky voice.
I take a deep breath. “He was shot, and the van crashed. The bullet wound isn’t as bad as the brain swelling. They have him sedated while they monitor him. It's too early to know how bad the damage is.”
Doug slowly closes his eyes. He brings his fist to his mouth, like he’s trying to suppress a sob or a scream.
“Sit,” I tell him.
His gaze lands on Jason. The weight of it all takes over, and he practically falls into the chair. His body slumps forward in defeat, and he reaches to touch Jason, then stops.
“Can I touch him?” he asks.
“Very gently,” I reply.
When Doug rests his hand on Jason’s, the sob he’s been holding escapes.
With his head in his hand and the other clutching his son, Doug weeps. “I’m so sorry,” he gasps through the tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s going to wake up,” I say.
Doug looks at me with hope. “Did the doct—”
“No. I say it. He’s going to wake up, and when he does, you have to do better. Do you understand me?”
Doug looks at me with an agonized expression.
“Do you understand?” I ask again.
He nods.
“Doug, I’m in love with Jason, and that means I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect him. You won’t hurt him ever again. Not physically. Not emotionally. Nothing. You will be the dad you should have been all along, or you’re not seeing him anymore.”
His head falls in shame. “I’ll do better.”
I grab a second chair, place it on the other side, and describe what I’m drawing to Jason.