now he’s the only link I have to Daniel’s family, so I’ll take what I can get. For once, his signature smirk has been wiped clean and replaced with a blank, shell-shocked look, and I feel sorry for him. No matter how tempestuous his relationship with Daniel is, it can’t be easy for him to see his brother in this condition.
I reach out to him, and he pulls me in for a hug.
“Hey,” I say. “I would have called you, but I don’t have a current number.” The truth is I deleted him from my contacts after the divorce because I was certain I’d never need to call him again.
“It’s the same number I’ve always had,” he says, just to let me know he can see right through my bullshit. “A friend called me this morning. She saw it on the news.”
“Where are your parents? I’ve left several messages. The machine doesn’t pick up at home. No one is answering their cell.”
“They’re on an RV tour of the United States.”
“They’re on a what ?”
“Dad bought an RV. He and Mom are driving cross-country in it. They’re planning on being gone for at least six months. My guess is that the phone is off or they’re somewhere with crappy reception. I’ve left them a message. They’ll call when they get it.”
Jerry had always talked enthusiastically about doing something like that, but I’d thought he was kidding. God love Mimi for going along with it.
Dylan approaches Daniel’s bedside. He takes in the tubes and wires, looks down at Daniel, and takes a deep breath. “Will he be okay?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“And the doctors? What do they say?”
“Not much. One of the nurses told me the doctor would give an update in the morning. Right now they’re monitoring the pressure in his brain. That’s their biggest concern.”
Dylan exhales, never taking his eyes from Daniel’s face.
“The nurse said he may be able to hear our voices,” I say. “You should tell him you’re here.”
Realizing he may want some privacy, I excuse myself and go in search of a bathroom. When I return, Dylan’s sitting in the chair. “Why are you here?” he asks. “Of all the people I expected to see, you didn’t even make the short list.”
I don’t dispute this because it’s the truth. “I’m still his emergency contact.”
“Ah, he’s still clinging to you, I see.”
“It was more than likely an oversight.”
“Maybe,” he concedes.
“Is there anyone else we should call? A girlfriend, maybe?” I ask, wincing inwardly because I’m not sure I want to know if there’s a woman in Daniel’s life.
“Well, there’s Claire,” he says and then gets up and walks away, leaving me in the dark.
Claire?
I stifle my proprietary feelings because I don’t have the right to have them. Does Claire know? Why isn’t she here?
I follow Dylan out of the room. “Well, should we call her?”
He takes his sweet time answering and gives me a look, the one that says he has some secret knowledge he’s not planning to share.
“We don’t need to call her,” he says. “Trust me on this.”
Trusting Dylan would be like trusting a shark not to bite, but any further conversation is halted when Dr. Seering walks into the room and approaches Daniel’s bedside. When he finishes examining Daniel, he turns to us.
I introduce Dylan, who says, “How is he?”
The fear I hear in Dylan’s voice is genuine and mirrors my own emotional state. What if we’re about to receive news we aren’t prepared to hear?
“The pressure in Daniel’s brain is holding steady, but it’s still a big concern. Right now we’re in the roller-coaster stage. Pressure that is being maintained can rise suddenly, without warning, so we’ll continue to monitor it very closely. On a positive note, the bullet has injured only one hemisphere and one lobe, which is the best-case scenario for this type of injury. A bullet that crosses through both hemispheres is not only more lethal, it will do a lot more damage.”
My hope
I reach out to him, and he pulls me in for a hug.
“Hey,” I say. “I would have called you, but I don’t have a current number.” The truth is I deleted him from my contacts after the divorce because I was certain I’d never need to call him again.
“It’s the same number I’ve always had,” he says, just to let me know he can see right through my bullshit. “A friend called me this morning. She saw it on the news.”
“Where are your parents? I’ve left several messages. The machine doesn’t pick up at home. No one is answering their cell.”
“They’re on an RV tour of the United States.”
“They’re on a what ?”
“Dad bought an RV. He and Mom are driving cross-country in it. They’re planning on being gone for at least six months. My guess is that the phone is off or they’re somewhere with crappy reception. I’ve left them a message. They’ll call when they get it.”
Jerry had always talked enthusiastically about doing something like that, but I’d thought he was kidding. God love Mimi for going along with it.
Dylan approaches Daniel’s bedside. He takes in the tubes and wires, looks down at Daniel, and takes a deep breath. “Will he be okay?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“And the doctors? What do they say?”
“Not much. One of the nurses told me the doctor would give an update in the morning. Right now they’re monitoring the pressure in his brain. That’s their biggest concern.”
Dylan exhales, never taking his eyes from Daniel’s face.
“The nurse said he may be able to hear our voices,” I say. “You should tell him you’re here.”
Realizing he may want some privacy, I excuse myself and go in search of a bathroom. When I return, Dylan’s sitting in the chair. “Why are you here?” he asks. “Of all the people I expected to see, you didn’t even make the short list.”
I don’t dispute this because it’s the truth. “I’m still his emergency contact.”
“Ah, he’s still clinging to you, I see.”
“It was more than likely an oversight.”
“Maybe,” he concedes.
“Is there anyone else we should call? A girlfriend, maybe?” I ask, wincing inwardly because I’m not sure I want to know if there’s a woman in Daniel’s life.
“Well, there’s Claire,” he says and then gets up and walks away, leaving me in the dark.
Claire?
I stifle my proprietary feelings because I don’t have the right to have them. Does Claire know? Why isn’t she here?
I follow Dylan out of the room. “Well, should we call her?”
He takes his sweet time answering and gives me a look, the one that says he has some secret knowledge he’s not planning to share.
“We don’t need to call her,” he says. “Trust me on this.”
Trusting Dylan would be like trusting a shark not to bite, but any further conversation is halted when Dr. Seering walks into the room and approaches Daniel’s bedside. When he finishes examining Daniel, he turns to us.
I introduce Dylan, who says, “How is he?”
The fear I hear in Dylan’s voice is genuine and mirrors my own emotional state. What if we’re about to receive news we aren’t prepared to hear?
“The pressure in Daniel’s brain is holding steady, but it’s still a big concern. Right now we’re in the roller-coaster stage. Pressure that is being maintained can rise suddenly, without warning, so we’ll continue to monitor it very closely. On a positive note, the bullet has injured only one hemisphere and one lobe, which is the best-case scenario for this type of injury. A bullet that crosses through both hemispheres is not only more lethal, it will do a lot more damage.”
My hope
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