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- 07/12/2014
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Dignity - a novel - 20. Chapter 20: Hospital
Chapter 20: Hospital
Lincoln kicks the double doors to the ER with his foot. He is cradling a limp Jack in his arms. I run ahead. There is a balding man in his forties behind a sliding glass window in the wall.
"Help him!" I hear myself scream.
I turn around and see Linc slumped on a wooden bench and supporting Jack's head. In his tender attitude, he reminds me of a living Pietà.
Turning back, I see the man behind the glass has risen and is now talking heatedly into the handset of a wall phone.
He makes a 'calm down' gesture to me with an open hand.
"Dawn," Linc says. "Come over here. Is he breathing? "
I rush to Jack's side, half-sliding on my knees over the slick floor. I kneel by his head, and place my index finger under his nose to see if I can feel some breath.
Just at the moment, like clouds parting for a ray of sunlight, Jack opens his eyes a tiny crack. His lips rise up on one side as he sees me. "Dawn..? So…I'm not dead..?" He almost laughs.
Lincoln and I pass each other choked-back but relieved sighs.
"No, dweeb," I tell him, stroking his forehead. "You ain't dead yet."
Just then a bunch of people in lime-green scrubs burst through a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway. Some are pushing a gurney, others are slipping on latex gloves, and all are motivated to get to us immediately.
Lincoln struggles to his feet with his charge in his arms. He and two of the guys in scrubs help hoist Jack onto the rolling bed.
A larger African American woman starts barking orders. Two people begin ripping the buttons off of Jack's shirt, then the second one cuts his t-shirt open from the collar. After that, a third sticks on pieces of square plastic connected to thin cables.
Another uses a balloon-like air thing and covers Jack's mouth. She squeezes air into him.
The gurney starts to roll back through the double doors, and Lincoln gasps. I guess he actually starts to panic that they would not let him follow.
The woman, who now I suppose is the head nurse, turns to us.
"What happened to him?" she wants to know. "Did he fall; hit his head?"
Lincoln can barely get the words out. "No. He's got leukemia, bad leukemia." Linc makes a motion to bolt for the door. "I want to go with him."
The nurse steps in front of him with a raised hand. Her tone is one sharp enough to let Linc know she's not gonna take any bullshit. "And just who are you?"
Lincoln starts to cry. The tears roll down with any effort to snivel them back up. He tells her plainly, "I am his boyfriend, and I want to be with him, in case…in case…"
The nurse's attitude instantly softens.
"Ok, honey. He'll be – "
It's almost like she was going to say 'fine,' but stopped.
"We'll do all we can for him; you can come with me, but you need to stand back, out of the way, until we say it's ok."
"Thank you."
"I'm really sorry for you, baby, but what is your boyfriend's name?"
"Jack Shaw."
She's thrown back on her heels.
"Not, the Jack Shaw?"
"Yes. Please help him."
"We'll do all we can for him. Now, come on, sugar."
Lincoln tells me, "Come on, you too." And I take a step or two with them, but then I remember.
"Linc, I'll be there in a few. I have to make a phone call."
"Ok."
They go. I pull out my phone and dial.
"Hello?" I hear.
"It’s me. I've found Jack."
˚˚˚˚˚
I glance at the time on my phone. It's about two hours since we arrived at the hospital, and Jack has been moved up in the building and settled in a regular room.
I sit in a chair, and the room is in semi-darkness. In this low light, the IV tubes and heart monitor wires glow in an eerie calm.
About 20 minutes ago, Linc lowered the guardrail on the right side of Jack's bed. He carefully lay down alongside of Jack, placed his arm over the sick boy, and now both of them are sleeping quietly.
Watching them, I can't help but wonder if it is too late or not. Maybe Jack will hate me, and hate Lincoln too, but we all just try to do what we think is best, and we should all be allowed the benefit of a fair and honest change of mind.
But with Jack, I've had a change of heart. And now I'm grateful, because intending to or not, Jack has pulled Lincoln into this as well.
My phone suddenly vibrates. The light noise stirs Linc, who lifts his head and looks around with bleary eyes.
It's a text message:
I'm lost inside this hospital. Come and get me!
I inhale and sigh, then lift myself up. Before I go, I place a hand on Lincoln's arm and stroke Jack's cheek.
Jack flutters his eyes.
"BRB," I whisper to Linc.
He nods, and I leave.
˚˚˚˚˚
I feel groggy, and there is something like an ill-defined pain in my left arm and hand.
In a flashing blindness, I open my eyes to see a bright fluorescent light above and behind my head. I glance to the side, and catch a fleeting glimpse of Dawn.
She has just touched my cheek, and is now leaving the limited field of my vision. In another moment, someone turns their head, which is close to mine, and Lincoln smiles at me.
"You feel ok?" he asks.
I take a deep breath and look down the length of my body. It’s covered with a thin hospital blanket, the kind I know and despise so well, but I also see my sexy Lincoln Oliver is stretched out next to me. That makes me smile, though it kinda hurts to grin.
My voice is dry and gruff. "Hey beautiful." I clear my throat. "Phew – I feel…I feel…"
"Ok. You're ok now."
"I'm in a hospital."
"Yup."
"How did I get here?"
"Me and Dawn brung you."
"You and Dawn. So, Dawn is really here – I thought that was a dream."
"Don’t be mad at her; don’t be mad at me either." His lips come down and brush mine. "Please don’t think we betrayed you, cuz, maybe it's unfair that you have all the say in the matter."
"Forgiven." I have to look away, but Linc's fingers come to my cheek and hold me to his gaze.
He asks, "You still love me?"
"Yes, Lincoln." I don’t want to cry.
"Then, can I kiss you?"
"Oh yes, anytime you want – my sexy beast."
Ok. I start to lose some liquid as my man kisses me; oh, I love him so much, how now can I die?
"Hey," I draw out my question, hoping the answer will be 'yes.' "You ever dream of spending a winter in Ohio, visiting hospitals, and such?"
Lincoln – my beautiful Lincoln Oliver – bites his quavering lip, and the bottom of his eyelids fill with a crescent of water; there they shimmer beneath the limpid calmness of his lapis-jade pools of wonder. "You know," he attempts a smile. "There's no place I would rather be."
After he kisses my tears away, he inhales and gives his head a quick shake. He stands up, and for a moment it looks like he wants to do the 'dumb-jock' thing and fist-punch the air with a shout, or do several victory laps around the room. But, instead, he blinks several times and adjusts the blankets on my bed.
"You warm enough?"
He helps me sit up when I make a motion to do so.
"I'm fine. Hey, is my – "
I can't finish my thought, because the door opens and in walks my mom, who pauses in the half-light. She waits in the center of the room, barely able to look in my direction. Dawn comes in next and closes the door.
'Shit,' I think.
Dawn provides introductions. "Mrs. Shaw, this is Lincoln Oliver. Linc, this is Jack's mother."
They shake hands, and it looks pretty awkward.
"Well," Lincoln stammers. "I guess we should leave you two alone for a while."
My mom puts a hand on his arm. Her tone is warm, saying, "No, stay. Dawn told me what you have done for him, and I guess you have as much right to stay as anyone. Both of you do."
Dawn and Linc go and stand by the door. My mom comes and sits on the bed near my right elbow.
I tell her, "Sorry I made you worry."
"You are not your father, Jack. You will make it. I know it."
There's nothing I can say.
"Do you believe me?" she asks.
"I don’t know, Mom. It's hard."
"Yes. Everything worth keeping in this life is hard to hold onto, but that's why we fight. Are you ready to fight, my darling boy?" She seems near tears.
"I don’t know if I'm gonna live, Mom."
She takes my hand.
"Jack, that was not the question I asked you. I asked you if you want to live; if you have something worth fighting for?"
She means Linc, of course she does, and it makes me cry. I nod my head real slow, and hold my mom's eyes.
She stands and touches my cheek. "Then fight for him, sweetie. Fight son for his love, because love is the only thing any of us ever really have to hold onto."
"Yes, Mom. I know that now. I'm gonna fight."
My mom is choked up, but dubious. "Do you mean it this time?"
I consider if indeed I am trying to offer up some phony-ass bullshit to either her to myself. The answer is clear. "No more half-ass lies, ok? I mean it. I'm gonna fight."
She calmly places the back of her hand on my forehead.
In a flood of emotion and images, I picture all of those beautiful things too lovely for words; the blessings of having life, and the will to be in the present moment.
"I love you, Mom."
"And I love you, my dear, sweet, Jack."
~
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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