Chapter 23 Bryson
Bryson
I’m not family.
Turns out, pretending to be someone’s spouse or family isn’t a thing the way it is in the movies.
I knew that, deep down. We covered HIPAA extensively in my medical law class.
I still tried, though. I made it all the way to handing over my ID for the nursing station to check it against the intake forms. The university provided those, though, and I’m not Jaden’s emergency contact. Why would I be?
The paramedics only made an exception because of how freaked out Jaden was, and she kept calling for me.
I lean against the waiting room wall and pinch the bridge of my nose as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I can’t stop replaying every moment. The way she simply looked off the moment she hit the court.
The slow pace of her feet as she tried to move her body side to side.
Her skin was paler than normal, and she kept shaking her head like she was trying to focus.
And then she just dropped to the ground, as if someone had pulled her plug and rendered her lifeless.
She hit the court so hard, landing on her elbow and shoulder, then the side of her head.
Her body was stiff for what seemed like forever, until she began to jerk.
I should have known. I should have seen this. There must have been signs.
The sound of her voice when she woke up and tried to say my name haunts me.
She was hard to understand at first, like when someone is half in a dream state.
And when her eyes found me, the fright behind them was unparalleled.
I should have done better with my own expression, because the moment her gaze hit mine, she started crying.
I’m sure I looked sick, or terrified. I felt both.
I still feel both.
“Bryson, hey!” Amelia’s voice snaps me out of the constant mental replay. I stride across the waiting room to meet my sister in the middle, and I hug her like my life depends on it.
“I’m so sorry. Traffic was a nightmare. I brought what I could. What do you need? What does Jaden need?”
My sister has packed a bag of clothes and toiletries.
I freaked out when I called her, and I just asked her to bring anything she thought Jaden might want later, the basics like a clean T-shirt, some sweatpants, maybe underwear and a sports bra.
Amelia and Jaden are similar sizes, I think. I don’t even know.
I take the overstuffed tote bag from my sister and set it in one of the open chairs, flopping down in the next one as my sister sits across from me.
“I don’t know anything yet. I’m not family, and her parents are on a flight. I had to call them, Amelia. I had to—”
I choke up at the memory of getting Jaden’s father on the phone and telling him his daughter was being taken to the Mercy ER. That’s how I met the man. By crushing him. And I didn’t even have the details to help calm his rabid nerves.
Amelia moves to the chair next to me, and the weight of her hand on my back settles me for a deep breath. My head is pounding from the wild swing of emotions I’ve been through over the last three hours.
“It’s good you were there. I’m sure her parents were glad it was you calling. The school officials would have been cold about it, you know? They worry about everything they say turning into a lawsuit.”
I nod, then suck in a ragged, deep breath.
I straighten my spine and scan the room, which isn’t as full as it was when we first arrived.
There were at least twenty people in here a few hours ago, all waiting to be triaged.
The wait is down to three or four, so at least the audience for my complete and utter meltdown was small.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I fish it out and fumble it onto the floor. Amelia picks it up for me and swipes the message open before placing it in my quivering hands.
“It’s an update from her dad. He’s been texting me. They’re on the plane.” I grip the back of my neck and blow up at the wild hairs that are tickling against my forehead. I’ve been pulling my hair a lot over the last hour. I’m sure I look like a crazy man.
“Good. Do they need a ride? I can pick them up at the airport. I want to help.” Amelia is so much calmer than I am in situations like this.
It’s always been in her nature. When our father had a heart attack a few years ago, she was the one who handled things while I spiraled into a helpless teenager.
I couldn’t understand how a man like him could be brought to his knees so easily.
It scared me. We have our differences, but he’s still my dad.
“I’ll ask,” I say, cradling my phone against my lap as I type a response.
Jaden’s dad responds almost immediately with their flight information and an all-capped Thanks.
I AirDrop the details to Amelia’s phone. I can’t even imagine how much this last-minute flight is costing them.
“You should eat something,” my sister says, placing my phone on the table in front of us that’s covered in magazines.
I nod, then lean forward to place my head in my hands. My fingers circle my temples while my mind races.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, rubbing my back again.
I nod but don’t look up. I’m assuming she’s heading to the vending machine.
I’m not hungry, but I know I need energy.
I’m not leaving this room until I know Jaden is okay.
And if I have to sustain myself on stale peanut butter crackers and fruit snacks for days, so be it.
My pulse is finally close to normal. I keep checking it on the free pulse oximeter machine at the front desk. I’m sure Beth, the admin worker with tiny wire glasses and jet-black hair, is tired of sanitizing it. It’s keeping my mind busy, though.
My phone buzzes against the wood grain of the table, so I dash to it to answer my sister’s call.
“Hi. Did you find them? Are you on your way back?” I feel out of breath, which probably means I should check my pulse again. I glance to Beth, though, and she quickly looks down to avoid my gaze. I sit down instead.
“Breathe, Bryson. Yes, we’re almost there. I’m going to valet the car so we can come right in. Is it busy there again?”
I get up from the chair and pace around the nearly empty room. The wait is down to two patients, and I think one of them is just a drunk guy the staff is letting dry out.
“There’s nobody here. I’ll tell the front desk they’re on their way so maybe she can have Jaden’s info pulled up and ready to go. I’ll meet you out front.”
I end our call and march toward Beth. Her head tilts and her shoulders hike up, but when I wave my hand I think she gets that I’m not there to bother her unnecessarily again.
“Jaden’s parents are almost here. I just wanted to give you a head start so they can get to their daughter quickly.”
Beth nods and begins typing on the computer. I pivot and begin heading toward the sliding entrance doors.
“Hey,” Beth calls. I spin around and rush back to the desk, and her mouth forms a soft smile. “She’s lucky to have a boyfriend like you, is all. I just wanted to tell you that. It’s nice to see young people support each other like this.”
I hold her gaze for a beat, then croak out a thanks before heading back toward the valet circle. It was a simple thing for her to say, but I feel lighter hearing it. I guess I needed the affirmation that I’m doing the right things.
My sister’s bimmer rolls into the valet entrance within minutes. My palms began sweating the moment Amelia left to pick Jaden’s parents up, so I wipe them on the front of my sweatshirt as Amelia’s car slows to a stop. I pull the passenger door open and roll my shoulders back with my deep breath.
“Bryson?” A very tall, redheaded man with a neatly trimmed mustache and beard steps up on the curb, holding a hand out. I shake it, and when he covers the other side of my hand with a warm squeeze, I tremble a bit, letting out a nervous, breathy laugh.
“It’s really nice to meet you, sir. I kind of hoped it would have been over dinner or something,” I say, shrugging a shoulder.
His warm smile pushes into his cheeks, and I see his daughter in his features.
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a great cafeteria here. We’ll work in a dinner, no doubt,” he jokes.
We both laugh softly, and he lets go of my hand.
“Call me Patrick, by the way. And this is Daria.” He holds out an arm, gesturing toward the back of the vehicle, where a woman about Jaden’s height with blond hair pulled into a tight braid is wrangling a giant suitcase from the back of my sister’s car.
“Let me,” I say, moving in to help.
Daria steps back while I plop the giant purple suitcase onto the walkway and lift the handle for her. It lands with quite the thud.
“She was afraid we might need to be here awhile. That’s her entire closet in that thing.” Patrick waves toward the suitcase. I catch the sharp glare from his wife, and she looks so much like her daughter with that expression. I see where Jaden gets her fire.
My sister finishes with the valet and rushes to join us just as Daria begins to roll her luggage toward the main door.
“If you need anything extra to wear, I’m sure I can get you some Cordon Football gear.” That would amuse the hell out of Jaden, I’m sure. Me sending her father in wearing football fanwear.
“Good to know. There wasn’t much room left for my things in that suitcase,” he says, earning him another pointed look from his wife as she makes a hard stop just inside the hospital doors.
“The front desk knows you’re here. She probably has some forms ready for you,” I say, motioning toward Beth.
“I’ll watch the mobile closet.” Patrick is amused by my quip, but Daria is all business, and now I’ve earned one of her glares.
It’s probably not the time to make jokes.
I wheel the suitcase to the corner of the room I’ve commandeered as my own.
Amelia and I both sink into our seats while Jaden’s parents work through a few forms, then head back to see their daughter. I shake a bit, and my sister’s hand finds my back again.
“It’s like I want to cry, but I can’t. Is that weird?” I swivel my head to face her.
“Not at all. You love her.” She shrugs and offers a simple smile. I can’t protest either, because she’s right. I do.
I manage to sit in one place and not bother Beth for thirty minutes.
Finally, Patrick enters the waiting room, and I practically leap to my feet to get to him.
I take in every context clue I can before he speaks—his eyes are dry and not red, he isn’t frowning, but he’s also not smiling, and he’s standing tall.
“They want to run some more tests, but they did an EEG. They think she has epilepsy.” That stoic face he came out wearing fractures a bit, his mouth growing heavier on the corners.
I nod, taking in his words and mashing them with my very thin medical knowledge. I wish I were in grad school already so I could offer more reassurance. As it is, all I can do is nod and say, “Okay.”
“She’d like to see you,” he says, and his smile picks back up a hint.
I reflect it with my own.
“I’ve been dying out here,” I breathe out, my lips flapping.
“He has,” Beth moans. We both glance her way as she waves and shrugs.
Patrick chuckles, then swings an arm around my shoulders, looking to Beth for permission. She nods and buzzes the door open.
“Tell her I have anything she needs,” Amelia calls out.
I nod, then turn back toward the long hallway ahead. Jaden’s room is at the very end, and I’m greeted by constant beeps from her monitor the moment I step inside. Her eyes blink slowly as she meets my gaze. Her mouth curves up a tick, but only for a moment.
“Hi,” she hums, reaching out a hand, the oximeter clamped on her finger and an IV filling her with fluids.
“Hi,” I say, trying to make my voice small.
“I’ll give you my chair,” her mom says.
“No, I can stand,” I say, but she pats the now-empty cushion, then steps aside. “I have to use the restroom, and I’d like to walk a bit. We came right from the plane, and I still feel it in my joints,” she says, stretching an arm across her chest.
I nod and take over the chair as her parents slip outside. I hold Jaden’s hand in both of mine and force the calmest expression I can muster onto my face.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Jaden says, her voice hoarse.
I shake my head.
“I can handle it,” I say. Barely, but I can. And I’ll get stronger.
Her gaze settles on mine, and we look into each other’s eyes for several quiet seconds.
“They said they think I have epilepsy.” Her voice breaks with the word, and that breaks me inside. I keep it there, though.
“That’s what your dad said. They’re running tests?” I glance to the monitor, then to the whiteboard on the wall across from the foot of the bed.
“They are. They want to see how many seizures I have overnight. Seizures.” Her emphasis on that word cuts my chest. Her eyes are tearing up, and that kills me too.
I run my thumb under her eyes, dabbing the tear before it can fully slip down her cheek. I lean in close and run my hand through her hair as her eyes flit closed. Her lips tremble. She’s scared. I’m scared for her.
“You’re going to be okay. No matter what. You’re going to be—”
“How?” she breaks in.
My lips shut, and I give myself a short moment to make sure I get my response just right. The smile hurts to make, because I’m not entirely sure I believe it. But I need her to believe it for her to have a chance to be everything I know she wants to.
“The same way you do everything. With your whole entire heart.”
I clasp her hand between both of mine again, then kiss the back before holding it to my cheek.
“Promise?” she finally utters.
I pull one hand away to cross my heart, and then I wait for her to drift into a much-needed sleep while I mentally plot all the things I need to do to keep it.