“So speak,” I clip out. I don’t mean to be short with her, but he’s my least favorite subject and she knows it. I watch as she wrings her hands together, working up the courage to carry on. She’s spinning her wedding ring around on her finger, something she does when she’s upset.
“He sustained a cervical spinal injury, the first two vertebrae in his spinal column have been shattered by the accident.” She pauses again, no doubt giving me a chance to absorb the information and ask questions. When I make no attempt to comment she elaborates. “Do you understand what that means, Ethan?”
“Not really, no,” I tell her, shrugging my shoulders.
“He’s paralyzed,” she begins. “From the neck down. The doctors have told me that the damage he’s done means his skull and spine are not connected. They need to operate, but he’s not strong enough at the moment and the surgery is dangerous.”
Her eyes are glazing over as she holds back her tears. I can’t figure out if they’re meant for him or me. I know I should be displaying some sort of emotion, but I’m not. I feel completely numb. Her words are swirling around in the whirlwind that is my mind, but it’s not stimulating any reaction and I know it’s not normal. I pretty much detest my father; I have for as long as I can remember now, yet I’m not happy by this news. I’ve wished him dead on more than a few occasions, as messed up as that is, but paralyzed…that’s somehow a fate worse than death. At least it would be for me. I can’t think of anything in this world more cruel than being trapped inside your own body. I’m not sad either, though; my emotional state regarding my dad is about as damaged as his back, only there may be a chance that the doctors can help to fix that in some way; whereas, our relationship is so fractured, so broken, there’s no putting it back together.
“What’s the survival rate for the surgery?” I ask as a melancholic curiosity takes over. My voice shakes slightly as I speak; I clear my throat and look away, but Mom catches it. She moves closer and puts her hand on my shoulder, offering a comfort that I don’t want and in truth, she can’t really deliver. I stand, forcing her hand to drop as I move to look out of the window and her sigh is audible.
“From what the consultant told me, 50/50 at best.”
I nod, contemplating her answer. The room feels colder than normal; the air conditioning unit is humming in the background providing an eerie theme to our conversation. I cross my arms to try and conserve some heat, and then let them drop immediately as the pain spears through my wrist. I’m no longer hooked up to the machines like before. I’d become accustomed to the steady, monotonous beeping and now that it’s gone I miss it. The constant din gave me something to focus on other than reality. Now all I’m left with is the sound of my own voice in my head whispering that I might finally be free.
“Can I see him?”
She looks shocked at my request and eyes me carefully.
“It’s just…I don’t know; it doesn’t feel real.”
“I’ll ask one of the nurses, sweetheart. I’m sure it will be okay, I’ll go find out.” Her voice is soft and low like she’s talking to a little kid, or maybe like she feels sorry for me. I almost want to laugh in indignation. She must think this news is upsetting me. Doesn’t she realize when it comes to Frank Jamison I’m dead inside? Any love I harbored for him was beaten from me long ago.
“Thanks,” I huff as she walks out of the room.
“You answered! Dude I’ve been calling for days. How are you?” Jackson’s voice echoes around the empty room as I place his call on speaker.
“Good, man. Sore and shit, but alive! I’ve been given the green light to come home tomorrow. Blair was told she’d be released today, Mom said, so I’m not sure if she’ll be heading home yet.”
“Yeah, Brie mentioned something about her being allowed home. How are you two?” His voice is laced with hesitation, and something else I can’t place. Like he knows something that I don’t.
“Honestly, it’s weird. You know my memory is screwed at the moment, right? I don’t know. I’ve spoken to her a few times and I have all these pictures and messages on my cell from her, but I can’t remember a damn thing about her. It’s pretty fucked up.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Look on the bright side, though…she’s hot, and you get to do over all your firsts with her. First date, first kiss, first fu—”
“What the hell dude,” I interrupt. “That’s the most pussified thing I’ve ever heard you say, shit…you know you sound like Drew,” I laugh.
“Fuck you, I do not sound like Drew!” I can hear his smile in the tone of his voice. “Anyway, how’s your old man?” he asks tentatively. He’s been my best friend since kindergarten and knows our relationship sucks ass. That’s all he knows though, or, at least if it isn’t, he never brought it up, and I’m thankful for it.
“Not good. I’m waiting on my mom to come back and let me know if I can see him…he’s paralyzed.”