Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Jolie
“ G irl, just tell him when he comes home,” Mindy says while we wait for our food.
With several projects now completed, and a few others in the works that I’m waiting on supplies to arrive before I can finish, today is a ‘me’ day.
I picked Mindy up bright and early, we hit the diner in town and had a filling breakfast and have spent the morning shopping.
The new thrift store in town was a major plus since there was a kid’s section and I was able to load up on board games.
Some were obviously brand-new judging by the plastic that still encased them.
Plus, I found books for all three kids that I think they’ll all enjoy reading, as well as a few odds and ends to decorate the rooms with.
I may not have to worry about money per se, but Grammy taught me how to be frugal and how to live beneath my means, so with a good chunk of my to-do list done, we’re now getting a late lunch with our pretty new toes.
I may not get all done up the way a lot of women do because of what I do the majority of the time for a living, but one thing I do regularly is get pedicures.
Since marrying Dex, we’ve been taking the girls with us, so it’s nice just being the two of us today.
I feel like I’ve been a terrible best friend, but I know if I say something, Mindy will just shake her head at me.
“But how? That’s not what we agreed on,” I whisper as I dip another chip into the cheese dip we always get. We both love it with the seasoned ground beef and since the girls don’t, I haven’t had it in a bit so I’m luxuriating over every single bite right now.
“And? Shit changes, Jolie. While I’m irreplaceable, I know he’s your best friend now and I’m in the copilot seat, so to speak.”
I scoff as I roll my eyes at her. “Yeah, right. You’ll always be my bestie, Min. Ride or die, remember?”
“Jojo Bean, it’s fine. I would hope your husband would become your best friend, to be completely honest. Maybe the two of you are doing it the right way in a sense.
Most of the time, I jump in with both feet, allowing the lust to drive my attraction.
Then, three or four months later, I realize that I don’t really like the jerk. ”
“You deserve better than how most of the guys you’ve dated treat you, my friend,” I reply as the waitress slides our plates in front of us with the typical caution of ‘it’s hot’.
“I know, I know. I’ve taken a hiatus from dating to focus on why I let them treat me the way they do.
I mean, I had a good childhood, no major trauma that I remember at all, so why do I feel as though I need to subjugate myself the way I do?
I end up feeling like a twisted-up pretzel by the time I end things. ”
I shrug because the years I spent in therapy, while they helped tremendously, still didn’t completely eradicate my fear that everyone I love will eventually leave me.
“I don’t know why either, but I suspect it has something to do with Brent Stevens and how he treated you in high school.
Mindy, he crushed you, remember? You may have fooled everyone else into believing you were perfectly fine when the two of you broke up, but I remember how you were behind closed doors.
Hell, Brock wanted to go kick his ass, only you were worried he’d get arrested for assault so you wouldn’t let him! ”
“That’s when it started,” she whispers, her eyes widening as realization hits. “ He’s the reason I started doubting myself in every area of my life.”
“Sounds like a good place to start unraveling stuff,” I tell her, diving into my enchiladas. “Mmm, these are so good,” I mumble around a mouthful of delicious cheesy beef goodness.
My phone rings and my first thought is to ignore it until I see Dex’s boss's name pop up on the screen. When I answer, he asks, “Jolie, where are you right now?”
Considering I literally have his number programmed in my phone in case of an emergency, and have never spoken to him before this, my heart starts racing. “I’m at lunch with a girl friend. What’s wrong? Is Dex okay?”
Mindy, sensing something’s not right, waves the waitress over to get to-go boxes as I take deep breaths to try and calm myself. It’s not working, but until I know what’s actually happening, there’s no sense in completely losing my shit.
His sigh carries through the phone’s receiver, and I brace for whatever he’s about to say to me.
“No, he’s not, Jolie. There was… there was an incident on the rig he was supposed to work on, and while he and his pilot had already left and were flying back to land, the rig explosion was bad enough that the helicopter was damaged, and they ended up crashing into the ocean. ”
Moving forward, there will be a time I refer to as before the call and after the call. Once I feel I can say something without breaking down into complete hysterics, I ask, “Is he alive?”
“He’s alive but seriously injured. I’m unsure of the extent of his trauma because it was a call from the Coast Guard and he hadn’t been seen by any doctors yet, but I’ve got a car enroute to your house. We’ll fly you to the hospital where he’s being seen.”
“What about the pilot? And the people on the rig?” I question, standing and grabbing my purse on autopilot.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mindy grab the bag of food and quickly sign the credit card receipt before she holds out her hand for my keys.
I’m shaking so much; I fumble and drop them. Twice.
We quickly exit the Mexican restaurant and head to my car as I hear, “The pilot was also injured and taken to the same hospital as Dex. As far as the crew on the rig, no survivors found at this time. They had a belly full of fuel and crude oil, a very bad combination, unfortunately. Plus, they hadn’t done the recommended repairs, so those issues were still present.
I want you to know that the company will handle everything and go after the rig owner for reimbursement.
You don’t have to worry about anything. Just…
be prepared because I think he’s going to have a long road to recovery. ”
“Thanks, Bruce. I’ll keep you posted. How long before the car arrives do you think? I’ll need to get packed, of course, and let his grandmothers know. Oh crap, the kids are in camp.”
“I wouldn’t worry about the kids just yet until you’ve seen him and know what you’ll be dealing with. They’ve already had quite a lot to deal with in a short period of time, so waiting a week or so won’t hurt anything,” he advises.
“Good point. Okay, we’re heading home now.”
“Go in, I’ll be there in a second to help,” Mindy says as she parks my SUV, reaching into the back seat to grab our lunch so it doesn’t spoil.
The other things we bought while shopping today can wait.
I quickly unbuckle and rush up the steps and into the house, stopping dead in my tracks when I hear Abuela and Nonna both wailing.
Nonna is obviously praying in Italian while Abuela is praying in Spanish, with an occasional English word tossed in. Normally, this would make me laugh, but not right now. I’m holding onto my control by a mere thread at this point.
“Nonna, Abuela!” I call out, heading into the kitchen, to see them next to each other with their arms wrapped around each other’s waist, their eyes glued to one of those twenty-four-hour news stations where live coverage is being shown behind the reporter.
“Mija!” Abuela exclaims jumping up. “We’ve already packed your bag because we know you will find our Dex.”
I nod as we hug, Nonna and then Mindy joining our huddle. Both women are crying, but I refuse to let that first tear fall. Not until I see him for myself.
“He isn't missing,” I quickly reassure them. “Dex and his pilot were already onboard the chopper heading back for dry land when the rig exploded. His boss called and they’re sending a car for me,” I finally murmur once we all take a step back.
“I’m sure whatever you packed will be fine, and if I need anything, I’ll order it and have it shipped to me.
“What about the babies?” Nonna asks. “Should we call the camp?”
I’m already shaking my head before she finishes.
“No, I think we should let them continue to enjoy themselves. Telling them now won’t do any good because I’m pretty sure they won’t be allowed into the hospital to see him.
Once I know what… how badly he’s hurt, we can plan then, but until then, it stays between us.
I hate leaving y’all with all the pets, though. ”
Despite the seriousness of the situation as well as how distraught all of us are, Nonna and Abuela exchange a look, and both start laughing.
“Mija?” Abuela calls out. When I look at her, she says, “You’re aware that before we came to live with family, we ran our own households, correct?
” At my nod, she states, “Both of us have had countless pets over the years so we’ll be just fine.
You have any follow-up appointments marked on the calendar already, and I know the vet has the payment information on file. ”
“I can always call it in, too, if I need to do so. Okay, let me go get my iPad, my laptop, and all my chargers. I suspect I’ll be talking to myself otherwise because I would anticipate that he’ll spend a lot of his time sleeping so he can heal.”
“Already done,” Mindy says, walking back into the kitchen, a tote bag’s strap clutched in her hand. I was so focused on Abuela and Nonna that I didn’t even realize she had walked out of the room. “By the way, the house looks fantastic.”
“Make sure you check upstairs before you go. Oh, and go ahead and use my SUV if you need to since I picked you up this morning.”
“You know what? I’ll stay with Abuela and Nonna and help with the animals, Jo,” she says, glancing at the two women.
“Are you sure?” I query.
“Absolutely. Come on, I’ll walk you out, then run by my place and get some stuff packed. Which room can I use?”
“I’ll make up the bed in the guest bedroom,” Nonna declares, putting her ever-present spatula down before she strides to the staircase.
“I’ll help,” Abuela adds, stopping long enough to hug and kiss me. She then whispers, “Josephine and I will do this then go to the church to light a candle for Dex and get him on the prayer lists for the diocese.”
“Thank you, Abuela.”
She clicks her tongue as if to tell me it’s no big deal then blurts out, “He loves you. My Dex has finally found his one, so we will petition the throne of God himself to bring him home to all of us, especially you.”
“Abuela,” I warn, “you’re going to make me cry.”
“No, no tears, mija. Save those for when you have some private time. That’s what us women do, we break down away from others. He’s going to need you to be strong, Jolie.”
“I know,” I whisper through the lump in my throat. “I’ll do my best, Abuela. You two behave yourselves. I’ll call once I’ve seen him and talked to the doctors.”
I manage to hold it together through the ride to the private airstrip, during the two-hour flight and subsequent ride to the trauma hospital he was flown to.
I even manage to keep my composure when I talk to his team of doctors and hear the litany of injuries he sustained.
Most were due to the impact into the ocean, but some were caused by the flying debris from the rig, as well as the water itself.
But when I walk into the intensive care unit and see his room is the one that’s directly in front of the U-shaped nurse’s station, I nearly lose it.
Especially when I get closer and can see that both legs are elevated and engulfed in gauze and Ace bandages, not casted, with long, evil-looking pins around his knees and ankles.
His face is mottled with bruises and his head has a gauze bandage on his left temple.
One arm was burned by flying debris and has been cleaned and debrided by the wound care doctor, the other has cuts and gashes and is in a sling because the shoulder was dislocated and had to be surgically put back in place as he was in danger of tendons and ligaments tearing.
They had to remove his spleen and because they’ve been unable to get his pain under control, which has caused his blood pressure to be dangerously high, they’ve put him in a medically induced coma.
The only good thing? He’s breathing on his own except for a nasal cannula for some added oxygen because of the smoke inhalation he suffered.
Since both arms were impacted, he’s got a central port, at least I think that’s what the doctor called it, and he’s being pumped full of strong, broad-spectrum antibiotics to ward off any infections, fluids, and the medication necessary to keep him sedated.
As I visually take stock of my strong, muscular husband lying so still in the bed, I turn to his nurse and ask, “Can he hear me if I talk to him?”
“I believe he can, yes. Should you need to break down, we have a room available for that, because we want him to fight. Your husband is in excellent health, Mrs. Armstrong, and I don’t see why he won’t fully recover, but we want him fighting hard, so positivity is a must whenever possible.”
“I understand,” I murmur. Taking a deep breath, I move forward into the room, my nasal passages immediately assaulted with so many smells I nearly gasp.
Instead, I lean over and kiss him on the only unmarked spot, which is over his right eye, and whisper, “I’m here, Dex.
You’re going to be just fine. Sleep, honey, so your body can heal. ”