Chapter 37
Although it’s the middle of the night, the hospital is busy.
Once we’re inside, the fluorescent lights erase the time of day, the bustle of the nurses and doctors seeping into the atmosphere, infectious.
I’m glad the EMTs are marching ahead, allowing us to bypass the waiting area and get right into the ER, where they flag down two nurses and report their findings with practiced ease.
To them, this is routine. To Olli and me, it’s a nightmare.
Around us, the EMTs and nurses are talking about what to do, someone steps away; another person joins the chaotic group.
All their talking blurs together into a buzz.
We finally come to a stop. Curtains are drawn closed, shutting out at least some of the chaos, but they stay busy, taking blood and measurements with such skilled ease that my eyes can barely keep up.
Before I register all of it, they’re done.
I wonder if I’ll ever get to that same level of practice where all this is just another day at work. Even if I’ll be handling animal patients, which might make some aspects easier and others harder.
By the end of the examination, Olli is clean and dressed in a gown that opens at the back, sitting on a hospital bed. His eye has swollen completely shut, but at least his nose and lip have stopped bleeding and got patched up.
In the harsh lighting, he looks worse than in the darkness of the beach.
“We’ll be back once we have the results,” the nurse with the round glasses promises after the doctors have left, then closes the curtains behind her, leaving only Olli and me behind.
Still, we can hear a lot of the noises from just behind it, especially whenever there's another gurney wheeled past. Quiet conversations melt into an irregular melody, underlined by the off-beat beeping of dozens of machines.
It makes me even more conscious of the quiet growing between us. I fidget, trying to find something to focus on, but in the end, I speak up after all, even if I don’t know where to even begin. “Are…did you…why did you go?”
“Why do you think?” Olli gives a short huff that might have been a laugh but turns into a pained groan halfway through.
“Did…uhm, did you…talk? To Davenport I mean.”
“No. No, there wasn't any talking.”
I raise my brows at him, but Olli stubbornly refuses to look up, so I give up with a sigh.
“Olli, I know you’re hurt, but—”
“Hurt? He’s prancing around, pretending he’s fucking a different girl every night with his bro, the one time he agrees to go out in public with me, that asshole buys out an entire restaurant so no one could possibly see us together, and I’m dumb enough to put up with that shit for a whole year, only so he can dump me? Fucking right I’m hurt.”
“I-I'm sorry. I didn't—”
Olli takes a rattling breath, then curls forward, drawing up his knees to brace against them. “I just wanted to”—his voice breaks, and he angrily wipes at his face, hissing when he accidentally touches his fresh injuries—“hurt him too.”
“That's—”
A nurse pops in to leave a cooling pack for Olli's eye, reminding me that this is not at all a good place to have this conversation.
With great effort, I swallow down the questions that are burning on my tongue.
Instead, I make sure the curtains are closed again and then sit on the edge of the bed, carefully wrapping one arm around Olli's shoulders.
Outwardly, it's a much-needed island of quiet, but on the inside, I cannot stop my spiraling thoughts. I truly thought most wouldn't care about that as long as their sports team won, but since the uproar around Xander Hart last year, I have been even more disillusioned. It had taken only a few rotten apples on the B-Tech ice hockey team to shake our whole college. Outside of Micah and Davenport, I don’t even know anyone else on the football team, so I have no idea if it’s better or worse than Nicko’s former teammates.
I can't imagine living like that, especially after talking to Nicko about keeping his relationship with Xander a secret.
That boy’s going to be jetting all over the country with his football club. How’d they make that work when Linden’s here? My father's words come to mind, harsh and unbidden.
No, I don’t know how I could make it work.
Not that I'm going to even have the option to try.
Surely, Micah doesn't think about that. He's worked so hard for his future in the NFL; I could never ask him to give that up for a chance to turn a summer romance into…
anything else. Especially not when it meant gaining mostly problems and very few benefits.
Then again, I was happy to stay at the Nook while Micah went out. I was the one who offered to wait for him, after all.
That's different! He's not even my boyfriend, so there's nothing to get jealous over. A part of me insists, but even inside my own head, I don't fully believe it. Yes, we haven't put that label on ourselves, but deep down, I trust Micah.
The revelation isn't even startling. It just is.
Something I knew for a while now but haven't let myself feel, let alone acknowledge.
I flinch when the curtains are drawn aside, tearing me out of my thoughts. Two uniformed cops walk in through the gap.
“Oliver Yardley?” the first one, a woman with a graying braid that falls over her shoulder, asks. The other, a man with impressively fluffy eyebrows, watches me closely.
“Yes,” Olli says, without taking the ice pack off the side of his face.
“We wanted to ask you some questions about the incident at the lake. We were called about an assault, so we have to make sure we have all the details before you might not remember.”
“I…” Olli trails off and looks up at me, searching.
“I'm not sure this is a good idea right now?” I finish his sentence, but it comes out as a question.
“We'll only take a few minutes. Can you tell us what you were doing there?” Braid lady pulls a notebook and a pen from her vest, looking at Olli expectantly.
“At a party? Gee, yeah, what does one usually do at a party? Lemme think about that,” Olli sneers, shuffling under the flimsy hospital blanket.
“Your friend said there had been trouble at another party before?”
I bite my tongue. Sasha had probably not at all intended for her words to come out like that, but I can almost see the gears turning inside the officer's head. Just note this down as a silly feud between college kids, write up a page about irresponsible youths, case closed.
“I don't think Olli’s in any shape to be answering any questions right now. The doctors will be back with the tests any moment.” I pull up my shoulders, hoping it looks tough rather than like a scared shrug.
“Right.” The ballpoint pen scratches unpleasantly on the rough paper of the notebook as she takes down my name. Goosebumps chase down my back and arms. I cross them in front of my chest to hide my shivering. “Just a couple more minutes,” she continues as if I hadn’t even said anything.
“I think my friend is right. I'd rather wait for my tests.” His voice shakes, and I scoot closer instinctively. I have no idea what to do if they’re not going to listen to us.
“Don't you want all this to be over? It's much easier like this, we promi—”
“You heard my patient. If you can't take a no, I'll have to ask you to leave the ER, Officers.” The doctor who walks through the curtain, still rubbing sanitizer into his hands and looking down at a clipboard a nurse is holding for him, is short and bald except for a silver beard, but his voice carries enough authority to instantly quiet the room.
I've never been this glad about a doctor's timing.
The man strides over to Olli's bedside, parting the cops like the Red Sea. His dark eyes flicker over him attentively.
“Mr. Yardley. The first tests came back, and everything looks all right, but I've ordered a couple more, just to be sure. I absolutely recommend you stay the night. You still aspirated an unknown amount of fluid, which could be gathering in your lungs. That’s best monitored here. As well as any possible head trauma.” He turns to me, speaking as if the cops aren't present.
“We'll let you know when he's ready to be discharged tomorrow.”
“And…and in case…?”
“In case anything happens, we'll be right here, but of course we'll also call you.”
I swallow thickly but nod. I believe him.
“We'd like to take your personal information first,” the female officer throws in. “Address, phone number,” she counts off.
“As you just heard, he'll be here tomorrow, or even better, at home, where you won't hold up my procedures,” the doctor says, then starts wheeling Olli out.
“Lind?”
“Yeah?” Once again, I'm half-jogging along.
“Tibia. She's all alone at home and—”
My insides squeeze. The kitten! I truly wouldn't have thought about her if he hadn't said it. “I'll look after her.”
“Thanks.” Olli sinks a bit lower into the bed, but raises his hand towards me.
I gently bump my fist against his, then fall back so the nurses and doctors can do their job. They push the bed into the elevator, the doors slide closed, and just like that, Olli has disappeared.
Instantly, I feel untethered, like a helium balloon that was let go. Thankfully, the nurses’ station isn't far. I give my details to the charge nurse, an older, dark-skinned lady with a curly updo. All the while pretending I don’t notice that the cops have followed me.
“Get home safe and take care, hon. I'll have the day shift call you with the updates,” the nurse reassures me before walking off to help her colleagues with the next patient.
“Would you be willing to answer a few questions now? Your friend is taken care of, and it's best to get it out of the way.” The cop tucks away her notebook, pinning me with impersonal gray eyes.
“I already said—”
“Maybe you won't have another chance to tell your side of the story once we've found more witnesses.”
I look around and grasp the first straw I see.
“I really need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” Only once I lock the door to the stall behind me do I feel like I can breathe again.
I sink heavily into the closed toilet. The sudden silence presses against my ears like a too-hard pillow.
My head buzzes with all the noise that I've just shut out and all the thoughts I kept locked in for too long.
Trying to shut it off, I take several deep breaths, leaning forward onto my knees. It's only now that I become aware of how damp and clammy my clothes are, the dry patches crusty with sand.
I choke on the next deep breath, deciding to give up.
With shaking hands, I pull out my phone.
My fingers are so cold that I have to tap the screen again and again until it finally opens up my contacts.
The numbers and names blur before my eyes.
It's pure muscle memory that allows me to navigate to my contacts.
I sniffle and rub at my face furiously, but new tears well up immediately. The beeping in my ear pierces through the dull, muffled thumping that must be my heart pounding against my ribs like a wild animal against the bars of its cage.
What if he won't pick up? What if he sees who's calling and thinks I should stew in my misery? But I can't bring myself to hang up. Not even when the beeping moves the pounding from my ribcage to my head. I can only clutch my phone, pressing it against my ear as if that would help.
Then, the beeping stops. Something scrapes over the phone, a dull rustling sound until—
“Lind?”
The gruff voice lands on me like a heavy blanket. The strangest need to go home overcomes me, but I know for certain that nowhere I could go is home enough. My voice breaks as I sniffle into the phone. “Dad.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…” I hiccup, feeling like I’m not getting enough air.
“Take a breath,” Dad instructs, his calm voice seeping into me like warm water.
I breathe in a shuddering breath, then exhale. When I breathe in another time, my stomach already begins to settle.
“There you go. One more.”
I comply, and by the time I breathe out, I feel almost calm.
“Now. What happened?”
“Olli was—someone beat him up,” I recount, my free hand shaking again, so I bury it in my pocket. “I went to help. There were two guys from some frat. They…they pushed him in the lake.” I have to stop and take a few breaths.
Dad stays on the line, not asking, not interrupting.
I’m glad he doesn’t. I don’t know if I could continue once I start to think about all the unanswered questions.
“I—we chased them off, but then he puked out all that water and—and Sasha called nine-one-one. We’re in the hospital now—I mean, Olli and me, and everything’s fine, b-but he could’ve—and now the cops are asking us all these questions because he was drunk and—I just don’t know what to do.”
“You're okay? You're not hurt?”
“N-no, I'm fine.”
“Good. Your friend?”
“He…they've—the doctors took him for some tests. But he's…he's okay, I think?”
“That's good, Lind, he'll be okay, son.” There's more rustling on the other end, then soft steps. I picture Dad walking out of his room and down the hallway into the kitchen, where he would always sit and wait whenever my sisters or I had been out late.
“Let the doctors do their thing and go home. Or better, have someone pick you up. Don't say another word to those officers, alright? If they don't leave you alone, ask them if you need a lawyer. Should get them to back off.”
“Yeah, o-okay?”
“I mean it, Lind. Don't do their job for them by accidentally admitting to something. They can talk to you when you're rested. I will also talk to you when you're rested,” he adds, huffing heavily.
I feel like I'm once again falling into Lake Champlain, freezing cold water rushing over me, through me. He's going to hang up.
“I'm sorry,” I rush the words out, though they barely make it up my throat. “I shouldn't have said all those things, and I should've told you and Mom about becoming a vet, and I should've—I didn't want to disappoint you. I just—I couldn't—”
“Lind, shh, you'll give yourself a heart attack.”
“But I have to—”
“That's a face-to-face talk, son. You don't need to say anything that you can't tell me in, say, a couple of days?”
I blink rapidly, both to clear up my vision, which has gotten unreasonably blurry, and to process the words.
“I'd start driving right now, but your mother's already looking at me like I've lost my mind. And I have to call Pen to take over the farm. But as soon as that clears up, we can take a little trip to Bonham. Is that okay?”
“A…a little trip to…yeah! Yes, of course!”
“Good. See you soon, Lind. Don't forget to call your friends, son. Love you.”
The blinking hasn't helped, and tears roll down my cheeks. “Love you too, Dad. See you soon.” I wait, not wanting to be the one to hang up. I get to hear the deep breath my father takes, and then, faintly, “He's okay, Kells” before beeping takes over.
I don't even let the screen go dark before pulling up Sasha's contact.