Chapter 32 Hannah
On our frantic jog back to the car, Alessandro gives us the update.
According to the deckhand, Lainey was so intoxicated that she fell down one of the ladders on the yacht and injured herself. While he and his colleague were administering first aid, Lainey vomited, and the owner threw her and her friends off his yacht.
“Her friends? What friends?” Tyson asks.
“Two Croatian girls. I think I know them—”
“How do you know them?” I ask.
“Everyone knows them—” He gives us a look that I quickly translate. “But they’re very nice girls. I’m sure they took care of Lainey.”
“Do you know where they live?” Tyson asks. “Or how to get ahold of them?”
“I could probably track them down,” Alessandro says, as we all get back in his car. “But I think we should check the hospital first.”
Tyson nods in numb agreement as I start to cry. He looks at me over his shoulder and tells me it’s going to be okay.
“Do you really think so?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Yes,” Tyson says, staring into my eyes. “It has to be.”
Fortunately, there is only one hospital on the island, and it’s very close by. Unfortunately, it also happens to look more like a small, run-down health clinic than a proper hospital. There is trash in the parking lot; paint is peeling off the walls; and the small waiting room is loaded to the gills.
“This place doesn’t look equipped to handle serious injuries,” I whisper to Tyson. We are hovering behind Alessandro as he talks to the lady at the front desk.
“If she’s here, she probably just needed stitches or something small,” Tyson says. “Otherwise, I’m guessing she would have been airlifted to the mainland.”
“Tyson!” I say, my heart in my throat.
“My point is—I’m sure she’s getting the care she needs. Italy has good doctors.”
I take a deep breath, but inside I’m freaking out. What if Lainey hit her head when she fell down the ladder? She could have suffered a traumatic brain injury, and they might not have realized the extent of her injuries until it was too late to get her to a better hospital.
Just as I start to really spiral, Alessandro turns to us and says, “She’s here.”
“How is she?” Tyson asks.
“I don’t know. She just confirmed that Lainey is here. Someone is coming out to talk to us—”
“When?” I ask.
“Hopefully soon.”
The next few minutes are torture as we sit and wait in complete silence. Meanwhile, my guilt compounds. I can’t believe that I’m the cause of all of this.
Finally, a woman in a white coat emerges from the crowded corridor. She says Alessandro’s name, glancing around the room.
“Sì. Qui,” he says, getting to his feet.
She walks calmly over to us.
Tyson and I stand, too, watching and listening while she speaks to Alessandro in Italian. Although I can’t follow what she’s saying, she sounds very confident and competent. I tell myself that Tyson is right. This hospital might not be fancy, but that doesn’t mean the doctors here aren’t knowledgeable and caring. This woman has kind brown eyes, and she gives me a compassionate smile as she turns to go.
“What did she say?” I ask, my hands trembling.
Alessandro clears his throat, then says, “Lainey was in very bad shape when she got here.”
“From the fall or the alcohol?” I ask.
“Let him finish—” Tyson says, putting his hand gently on my arm.
“Sorry,” I say, nodding and taking a deep breath.
“Let’s sit,” Alessandro says.
We sit back down, and Alessandro continues, telling us that Lainey has alcohol poisoning. She was having a lot of trouble breathing when she was brought in. They gave her oxygen to protect her vital organs, IV fluids for dehydration, and thiamine and glucose to prevent brain damage.
“Oh my God! Brain damage?” I say.
“It’s probably just precautionary,” Tyson says. “You know—standard protocol with alcohol poisoning.”
Alessandro nods. “They’re running more tests now.”
“Are they doing a CT scan?” Tyson asks.
“I don’t know,” Alessandro says. “She mentioned X-rays. It sounds like Lainey may have broken her arm when she fell.”
“Are they going to let us see her?” Tyson asks, his expression stoic.
Alessandro shakes his head. “Not yet. The doctor said she’ll let us know when we can go back.”
I start bawling, and as Alessandro leans over and gives me a hug, I catch Tyson wiping away tears of his own.
Our wait is agonizing, the minutes slowly ticking by in the dingy waiting room.
At some point, I remember my promise to call Olivia and step out to the parking lot.
She answers on the first ring. “Please tell me you found her?”
“Yes. We’re at the hospital, waiting to see her.”
“Oh, no! What happened?”
I bring her up to speed on everything, then say, “Now we’re just waiting. We hope to know more soon.”
“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “Will you please keep me posted?”
“Yes. I promise I will,” I say. “What time is your ferry?”
“I haven’t checked the schedule yet,” she says. “But I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay—”
“You really don’t have to stay. I know you need to get back. Besides, there’s nothing you can do at this point—”
“Hannah, I can’t go yet. Not unless you want me to?”
I hesitate, thinking of Lainey—and Lainey only.
“I don’t want you to,” I say. “But I think maybe you should. Just in case she asks…. But I promise I’ll keep you updated.”
“Okay,” Olivia says. “I understand.”
Lainey looks even worse than I had braced myself for. I can’t tell if she’s unconscious or asleep, but her face is pale and covered with cuts and bruises; her right arm is in a sling; and tubes and wires connect her to various machines.
I stand frozen in the doorway, fighting off a fresh wave of tears as I watch Tyson walk over to her bed, peering down at her. He is trying to be strong, but I can tell he’s shaken, too. The language barrier isn’t helping matters. Alessandro finally had to leave for work, and neither the hospital worker who ushered us from the waiting room nor the nurse speaks much English.
I tell myself that Lainey has to be stable—otherwise they wouldn’t have let us see her. But it’s impossible to know for sure, and I’m still worried about an undetected brain injury.
As I watch Tyson reach down and gently stroke Lainey’s matted hair away from her forehead, I force myself to walk the whole way into the room and over to her bedside. As horrible as she looks, and no matter what happens from here, I’m grateful for this moment. It’s something we never had with Summer.
Lainey’s eyes suddenly flutter open. She looks up at us with a terrifyingly blank stare, like she has no idea who we are.
“Hi, Lainey,” Tyson whispers. “It’s me. Tyson.”
Lainey blinks, still staring.
“Where am I?” she finally asks in a faint whisper.
“You’re in the hospital,” Tyson tells her.
Lainey’s eyes turn watery, tears rolling down her cheeks and her lips trembling. It is a heartbreaking sight, but also hopeful. She knows who we are, and she understands what Tyson is telling her.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Shh,” Tyson says. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
She looks at me now, then tries to say something else, but Tyson stops her.
“Don’t try to talk. We can talk later. Right now, you need to rest.”
Lainey gives us the slightest nod before her eyes flutter shut.
“We love you, Lainey,” Tyson says.
“We love you so much,” I whisper.
She doesn’t reply, but I tell myself she can hear us.