How I Live Now - 35. Day 59

Day 59

I don't know what was up with me today; I just woke up agitated and irritated. Surely it had to be from the operation I got, where the doctors dug around in my guts for the bullets. The nightmare came on last night; I was standing, no, I was laying on that operating table, the operating team hard at work, and I was awake. It was like they didn't know I was conscious, and I was screaming, flailing, and panicking. My bloody hands reached up for the doctor, telling him it hurt. Yet, no matter how hard I attempted to reach any of them, it never worked. I could feel myself dying; it was like I wasn't me anymore. And it would've been peaceful if I died, but if fate wasn't cruel enough, he'd include Salvatore. I don't know where he came from, but he moved to the head of the table, glanced down at me, and smiled. He'd been the anesthesiologist, brought the gas to knock me out, and that's when I woke up. I was in my hospital bed.

I've been thinking about the chronological order of things, you know how the detective wanted me to recount the entire day minute by minute. Possibly it was all still floating around in my mind, just a bad memory. When I thought about it enough, I killed people. At the moment, it seemed like I was on top of the world, and now I'm not sure. I feel sorry, not for myself but for becoming what Salvatore wanted us to become. The guilt gnawed at me, worms nibbling away my brain, their tails wiggling as they burrowed deeper.

Supposedly, when Amy came along today with Hudson, she said the nurses were asking for pertinent information about me. Then, Amy realized that she didn't know my surname, and I was entered into the system as Kyle Doe. And after the only family, I've ever really had left, I gave the ward staff my surname. However, back to Amy because that's what I want to talk about while I have the energy. Every time I turn, shift in the bed, my side hurts, and while I'm sitting up, I'm committed to finishing off this book. There's still a handful of pages left, but I don't think I'd be writing much more. It's like I'm tired of reminding myself how shitty my life is.

Amy and Hudson arrived, Hudson bounding into the room, and I was so happy to see them. The nurses said it was the most talkative I had ever been since I was admitted, and I'll agree with them on that conclusion. Hudson was swinging a yo-yo, and he reminded me of when I was a kid, and I hadn't seen one in so long.

"What's that?" I asked.

“Some woman gave it to me on the way up,” Hudson said.

“You’re always getting free stuff,” I joked.

Hudson approached the bed grinning, then took a seat. Amy cautioned him about not being too overwhelming. I just smiled, and as it faded, my attention turned back to my favorite little guy. He reminded me of Matias, but nobody had told me what had happened to him, and it would be on my agenda to ask Amy. Hudson shrugged as he attempted to hold the loop on his tiny finger and cast the yo toward the floor. The spool left his finger, and it clumsily fell to the ground. Hudson chased after it under a locker. It amused me, and seeing that he had trouble getting it to work, I decided to teach him how to do it. Beckoning for him to come closer after Hudson retrieved it from the floor, he passed it to me; his soft touch reminded me of his older brother. Hudson had a lot of characteristics similar to Matias; it was like looking at a younger version of Matias.

Except, Hudson had the attitude, and it really suited him, whereas Matias just had this plain stubbornness in its place. Hopefully, Hudson wouldn't walk down the same path as his older brother. That whole home invasion thing really scared me. Treading my finger through the loop, I rewound the yo-yo up and prepared to flick it to the tiles, my thumb pressed against the spool. With a quick flick of the wrist, it shot down to the floor, hit its optimum momentum, spun on itself, and did its neat little trick. Hudson seemed inspired by my endeavor and rather interested. So, he took it off me and attempted to do the trick on his own, each try better than the last.

Amy approached my bedside bearing a plastic carrier bag, placed it on the end of the mattress, and rummaged through the contents. Out came a box of chocolates, and my eyes lit up. I've been hoping for something sweet for ages. For the past few days, I could only eat the hospital food and its rank.

“The doctors said you can start eating some normal food again,” Amy said.

I grinned so hard, practically forever creasing my face that way. Sweeping out for the box of chocolates, I grabbed hold. I dropped the question about Matias.

“Is Matias coming?” I asked.

I thought it was a pretty harmless question to ask, but considering the detectives have been leaving me in the dark, I figured Amy would know. The smile faded from her face, and now I started to worry. I hadn't heard that Matias had made it to the hospital or that he was alive.

“Did something happen?” I said.

Showing concern, I leaned forward in the bed, but a twinge of pain erupted in my side, and I had to sit back. Hudson looked to me sadly, speechless. It dawned on me, he died from some grave wounds that he didn't know about. I could feel myself welling up, though the words were caught in my throat. Matias couldn't just die without causing a ruckus; he'd go out with a bang for sure. So, how come I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary?

“He’s…” Hudson began, looking to his mother for help.

I knew what he wanted to say, he was going to say Matias died, and that's why nobody told me. A speaking witness builds the case, one who gets snuffed out messes it up. People who care about their compadre might start developing depression leading to their death, and they can't be much help. Not that I felt like offing myself, but the least they could have done was tell me. Learning this, it seemed like my entire body went numb, and no tears came.

“Mom?” Hudson asked.

Hudson peered from his mom back to me. It dawned on me how shitty they must've been feeling, but if they really were grieving, they didn't look like they were in deep bereavement. I know Matias is not perfect, but I did expect some tears.

"The detective not tell you?" Amy said. She took my hand from the bedside.

The touch was electric, warm. There was a need within me, just a desire for human contact and to be held. My eyes felt heavy. Shaking my head, I indicated 'no.' I figured I might break the uncomfortable stillness.

“Is he… he dead,” I said.

Amy scowled, seeming confused. The facial expression threw me off, meaning it's not what she was expecting me to say. Somehow, the tension I was started to feel was dissipating. Was he dead or alive, or worse? Mind you, I couldn't think of any particular scenario that could be worse than being dead.

"No, sweetie," Amy said, gently gripping my hand.

Hearing those words brought on the tears. This unknown part of me reared up like standing on the edge of a cliff, maybe the Grand Canyon. The sun rose, the heat warmed my face. That's what hope felt like, the sun rising again. Tears streamed down my face, dropping to the blankets below, and I chose not to look at her. My lingering gaze went to the other side of the room, and I caught sight of Hudson, which made it even worse, so I peered down at the blankets. I didn't need reminders of Matias.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

"Yes, yes, sweetie," I said.

Amy put the chocolates that she had bought me on the side of the bed and let go of my hand. Now she cradled my face with her two hands, wiping away the tears. It was motherly, and it felt good to be cared for in this way. She didn't seem mad at me, no, just regretful. It was like she wanted to be there to amend something she had done, even though she never did anything to warrant being resented.

“Then what happened?” I added.

“Matias is…” Amy began, glancing across that Hudson.

I didn't mean to be resentful, but I didn't want to look at him right now. He reminded me too much of Matias, and it was hurtful.

“Juvie,” Hudson added, falling short where his mother had.

“Like as in juvie prison?” I asked.

I couldn't picture Matias going to prison, and the thought of him being locked up all alone made the picture even sadder. How did it come to this? How come I wasn't going to prison? I did stuff, I murdered people, and I'm getting a free pass. Is it like because I'm an invalid in a hospital bed right now? Hudson took the chocolate from the center of the bed, opened it up, popped some candy out, removed the wrapper, and chewed.

“He said he was drug running… and," Amy began.

The tears came again; she wiped my face with her palm and ran her fingers through my hair, attempting to soothe me.

Leaning close, and Amy whispered, "he said he shouldn't have let you get involved."

The tears wouldn't stop, even with her efforts. What did this mean? How would I see him? Would I ever see him again? Does that mean after today, I'll never get to see Hudson or Amy ever again? Would I be on my own for the rest of my life? With my dad and mom traveling all the way from the Acreage, only for my dad to beat the hell out of me in the hospital bed, strangle me for causing him such grief? The notion didn't seem to disturb me. Somehow it put me at ease, thinking that my dad would put me out of my misery so I wouldn't have to go through it all alone, again.

“He’s been asked to take a plea deal?” Amy said.

"And, what about me?" I asked, wishing I could be of assistance to help Matias.

Amy's fingers swept out, and she drove her fingers through my hair, her nails contacting with my scalp. It was nice. It was really nice having my hair rubbed. I don't know, but it's like my brain was releasing some chemicals, and it was relaxing.

“You just focus on getting better,” Amy said.

I sniffled, wondering why it had all come to this. It's like Matias took all the blame or the very least tried to own up to some of his fuck ups. The rest of our meeting was just us trying to get over not crying, feeling pitiful. Eventually, Amy and Hudson had to go, and I was relieved to see them go, not in a bad way. I needed some alone time to think. Everything was piling high, and I needed to ditch the emotional baggage of what had happened and what the future looked like.

I've been recounting my story most of the evening. Since I have nothing better to do than sit in the hospital bed looking at the shitty TV, ringing for nurses that always seem too busy. It seemed like the ideal thing to do. I wondered if it was viable to tell the detective my side of the story. I was just as guilty as Matias was in the entire affair. Yet, it seemed like Matias wanted it this way. He willingly gave himself up for me. He took the fall, and hard.

When detective Wheeler turned up, I gave him the story, but I omitted specific details Matias probably wouldn't want me to give up. The man wrote everything down in his notebook and after a while he was gone. It felt good to be sitting alone, having no visitors, just allowing myself to think freely without interruption.

I've just had dinner, the food is still terrible, but the staff is pretty friendly. The meals are better than high school lunches, but only by a margin. Equally, both are no better than pig slop, but I don't have the heart to say that to the hospital folk. They are too nice to me. I'm gonna turn in now for the evening; I'm feeling tired, sore, and emotional. I just need to recount the day some more. I just have to allow my brain space to breathe.

Talk later,

Kyle