"Midnight Clear" 44
The ICU.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2005
It had been a long time since Jennifer Taylor had prayed. Maybe not since she was a little girl, asking God for a new doll, or to get the teacher she wanted for Third Grade. Or to ask that her Mom stop drinking and acting so weird all the time and to just be normal. The first two things had been easy for God to deliver, but the last... well, she was still waiting for that.
She didn't remember if she had prayed to let Craig Taylor fall in love with her, or ask her to marry him. She never even thought of it by then. She thought she was finished with prayers, finished with God.
But obviously God wasn't finished with her.
"Please," she begged as she sat by Justin's bedside in the ICU. "Don't take my beautiful son! Please! He has his whole life ahead of him. I know I've made mistakes -- both Craig and I have made a lot of mistakes! -- but I promise I'll take better care of him in the future. Love him more. Respect him more." Jennifer paused and gazed at Justin's pale, bruised face. "Let him be the person he is and not the person I want him to be. If I could take back this past year, I would do it. If I could only go back to last Christmas Eve, I would be more understanding. I would simply tell my son that I loved him, no matter what. And I wouldn't let anyone, not even his father, treat him badly. Or treat him as if he wasn't normal. Because all I want is for him to... to live! To live and be happy! That's the only thing that's important!"
Jennifer waited, as if she'd hear a voice telling her everything would be all right. But all she heard was Justin's labored breath. The click and pump of machines designed to keep people alive. The sighs and coughs from other patients behind drawn curtains. And an occasional hushed footfall in the distance.
There were no windows in the ICU, so it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night. She might have been sitting there for hours or for weeks. Time had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning except her beautiful son lying in front of her, broken.
Every now and then Justin would stir. He would take a gasping breath, like a diver coming up for air. His head would move and his eyelids flutter, and Jennifer would think he was about to open his eyes. But then he would settle back into a restless, hopeless sleep.
Almost. Almost.
The doctors assured her that Justin would recover. That it was only a matter of time. But when he would wake up, they couldn't say. Another hour or another week. A month or... longer? These things were unpredictable. So much depended on how much damage his brain had taken when he'd been beaten. The doctors were monitoring the situation. It was early yet. Too early to tell.
He had a fracture of the skull, but it wasn't too bad. That's what Dr. Bentley had said. There's no depression of the skull. No bleeding of the brain. He's breathing on his own. That's all good news. Your boy has taken a nasty hit, but it could have been worse. He shielded his head with his hands, protecting himself from the assault. Consequently, his right hand and arm had taken the brunt of the attack. His arm was broken, his wrist shattered, and his hand messed up. Those things would all need to be fixed. But they were fixable. The boy would have a long recovery and need physical therapy, but he'd get better. They had some excellent orthopedic surgeons at Allegheny General. He'd be well taken care of.
"But what about his hand, doctor?" Jennifer had asked. "He wants to be an artist. It's very important to him. He needs his hand to draw."
The doctor had looked away. "That's not my specialty, Mrs. Taylor. Dr. Gottleib will be able to tell you more later. But no one can guarantee he'll have the same kind of mobility in his hand and arm that he had before. Maybe with a lot of work, he will. But that's in the future. Right now I'm only concerned that he wake up -- and the sooner the better."
When Justin woke up. What would he say? Would he remember what had happened to him? Dr. Bentley warned that with head injuries the patient often had amnesia about the accident. Maybe that was Nature's gentle way of protecting him from a horrible reality. Jennifer prayed again, prayed that Justin wouldn't remember what had happened to him. Wouldn't remember the attack of that horrible man. Wouldn't remember the pain he must have felt. Or the fear.
And then there was Craig. Strutting around the hospital, spoiling for a fight. He'd barely spoken ten words to Justin since his graduation from Dartmouth, except for that awful scene on Thanksgiving, but the minute Jennifer called him to tell him that Justin was in the hospital, there he was. Trying to take over. Arguing with the doctors. Playing the part of the concerned father.
Perhaps Craig really did care about his son. Jennifer knew that deep down Craig loved Justin. At least, she hoped he loved him. Craig had always been so proud of Justin. Proud of his excellent grades and accomplishments at St. James Academy, one of the most exclusive schools in Pittsburgh. Proud that Justin had never been in any trouble, never caused them a moment's grief.
Until...
When Justin came out, that's when everything changed. All those years of being the Perfect Son seemed to be wiped away in a moment, at least in Craig's mind. And it didn't help that their marriage was falling apart. That Craig's girlfriend was pushing him to make a break with Jennifer. And now this...
She knew Brian Kinney was out of town. In San Francisco on business, Justin had said, so he'd been planning to come over for Christmas Dinner. Just the three of them -- Jennifer, Justin, and Molly. Jennifer bought a rack of lamb and she'd made plum pudding, British style.
They would have been eating their dinner right about now. Or maybe they would have been finished.
Time. It didn't have meaning anymore.
Craig had been slumped in the chair, staring into space, when they heard the commotion out by the nurse's station. Jennifer recognized Brian's voice and she knew that her son's lover was trying to get to him. Was desperate to get to him.
Craig rushed out and there was a nasty confrontation. Brian Kinney was taken away by the police and Craig was smug in his victory.
And Jennifer -- she knew she was a coward for standing back and saying nothing.
The one person Justin would want to see when he awoke was Brian Kinney. The man he loved.
Jennifer knew it and hated it. Hated that this man had taken the place in Justin's heart that rightly belonged to her. First place.
But if Brian had been a woman, had been Justin's wife, would Jennifer have begrudged her that place? Would she have allowed Craig to turn her away? Allowed her to be dragged off to jail, protesting? Calling for her lover -- calling in vain?
No. It never would have happened.
Justin was fretful. He seemed to be struggling for consciousness. But then he'd slip back. Slip away from her.
Jennifer took her son's hand and squeezed it. "Justin? Can you hear me? Please, darling! Wake up. Speak to me!"
But the hours went by and still Justin slept.
"It might be days, Mrs. Taylor," said the resident on duty. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? Your husband has gone home."
Yes, thought Jennifer. He won this round from Brian Kinney. He can go home and enjoy his worthless triumph.
"No," she said. "I want to be here when he wakes up. Whenever that is. I have to be here. I want my face to be the first thing he sees. That way he'll know he's safe."
"It's your decision," said the doctor. "Merry Christmas."
She took a few minutes to call Molly and make sure she was okay. She was staying at a friend's house. The parents had promised to take care of her, but it wasn't a very Merry Christmas for her poor daughter. Her family was broken. Her brother was broken. Then Jennifer called her sister June in Chicago. June was making plans to come to Pittsburgh tomorrow. June was always so organized. She'd bring Molly home and get the house in order. She'd tell Jennifer what was right and what was wrong. And she'd know how to deal firmly with Craig. She'd give Jen the courage to do what she had to do.
It was late now. Close to midnight. One of the night nurses, an older African-American man, came in and checked on Justin. And he checked on Jennifer, too. He said his name was Ray and that she should call him if she needed anything. Anything at all.
"Your boy is gonna be fine," he said. "He has a beautiful mother watching over him. That's reason enough to wake up."
Jennifer nodded. But was it?
She felt herself dozing off, but something jolted her awake.
She looked over at Justin and he was looking back at her, his blue eyes wide. His mouth was open, but his lips and tongue were dry. He tried to whisper something, his voice low and hoarse.
"What, darling?" Jennifer asked eagerly. "What is it? What do you want? Tell me!"
"Brian!" Justin rasped. "He was calling me! Where is he? Where's Brian? I want him!"
And then Justin closed his eyes in exhaustion and fell back to sleep.
***
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2005
It had been a long time since Jennifer Taylor had prayed. Maybe not since she was a little girl, asking God for a new doll, or to get the teacher she wanted for Third Grade. Or to ask that her Mom stop drinking and acting so weird all the time and to just be normal. The first two things had been easy for God to deliver, but the last... well, she was still waiting for that.
She didn't remember if she had prayed to let Craig Taylor fall in love with her, or ask her to marry him. She never even thought of it by then. She thought she was finished with prayers, finished with God.
But obviously God wasn't finished with her.
"Please," she begged as she sat by Justin's bedside in the ICU. "Don't take my beautiful son! Please! He has his whole life ahead of him. I know I've made mistakes -- both Craig and I have made a lot of mistakes! -- but I promise I'll take better care of him in the future. Love him more. Respect him more." Jennifer paused and gazed at Justin's pale, bruised face. "Let him be the person he is and not the person I want him to be. If I could take back this past year, I would do it. If I could only go back to last Christmas Eve, I would be more understanding. I would simply tell my son that I loved him, no matter what. And I wouldn't let anyone, not even his father, treat him badly. Or treat him as if he wasn't normal. Because all I want is for him to... to live! To live and be happy! That's the only thing that's important!"
Jennifer waited, as if she'd hear a voice telling her everything would be all right. But all she heard was Justin's labored breath. The click and pump of machines designed to keep people alive. The sighs and coughs from other patients behind drawn curtains. And an occasional hushed footfall in the distance.
There were no windows in the ICU, so it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night. She might have been sitting there for hours or for weeks. Time had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning except her beautiful son lying in front of her, broken.
Every now and then Justin would stir. He would take a gasping breath, like a diver coming up for air. His head would move and his eyelids flutter, and Jennifer would think he was about to open his eyes. But then he would settle back into a restless, hopeless sleep.
Almost. Almost.
The doctors assured her that Justin would recover. That it was only a matter of time. But when he would wake up, they couldn't say. Another hour or another week. A month or... longer? These things were unpredictable. So much depended on how much damage his brain had taken when he'd been beaten. The doctors were monitoring the situation. It was early yet. Too early to tell.
He had a fracture of the skull, but it wasn't too bad. That's what Dr. Bentley had said. There's no depression of the skull. No bleeding of the brain. He's breathing on his own. That's all good news. Your boy has taken a nasty hit, but it could have been worse. He shielded his head with his hands, protecting himself from the assault. Consequently, his right hand and arm had taken the brunt of the attack. His arm was broken, his wrist shattered, and his hand messed up. Those things would all need to be fixed. But they were fixable. The boy would have a long recovery and need physical therapy, but he'd get better. They had some excellent orthopedic surgeons at Allegheny General. He'd be well taken care of.
"But what about his hand, doctor?" Jennifer had asked. "He wants to be an artist. It's very important to him. He needs his hand to draw."
The doctor had looked away. "That's not my specialty, Mrs. Taylor. Dr. Gottleib will be able to tell you more later. But no one can guarantee he'll have the same kind of mobility in his hand and arm that he had before. Maybe with a lot of work, he will. But that's in the future. Right now I'm only concerned that he wake up -- and the sooner the better."
When Justin woke up. What would he say? Would he remember what had happened to him? Dr. Bentley warned that with head injuries the patient often had amnesia about the accident. Maybe that was Nature's gentle way of protecting him from a horrible reality. Jennifer prayed again, prayed that Justin wouldn't remember what had happened to him. Wouldn't remember the attack of that horrible man. Wouldn't remember the pain he must have felt. Or the fear.
And then there was Craig. Strutting around the hospital, spoiling for a fight. He'd barely spoken ten words to Justin since his graduation from Dartmouth, except for that awful scene on Thanksgiving, but the minute Jennifer called him to tell him that Justin was in the hospital, there he was. Trying to take over. Arguing with the doctors. Playing the part of the concerned father.
Perhaps Craig really did care about his son. Jennifer knew that deep down Craig loved Justin. At least, she hoped he loved him. Craig had always been so proud of Justin. Proud of his excellent grades and accomplishments at St. James Academy, one of the most exclusive schools in Pittsburgh. Proud that Justin had never been in any trouble, never caused them a moment's grief.
Until...
When Justin came out, that's when everything changed. All those years of being the Perfect Son seemed to be wiped away in a moment, at least in Craig's mind. And it didn't help that their marriage was falling apart. That Craig's girlfriend was pushing him to make a break with Jennifer. And now this...
She knew Brian Kinney was out of town. In San Francisco on business, Justin had said, so he'd been planning to come over for Christmas Dinner. Just the three of them -- Jennifer, Justin, and Molly. Jennifer bought a rack of lamb and she'd made plum pudding, British style.
They would have been eating their dinner right about now. Or maybe they would have been finished.
Time. It didn't have meaning anymore.
Craig had been slumped in the chair, staring into space, when they heard the commotion out by the nurse's station. Jennifer recognized Brian's voice and she knew that her son's lover was trying to get to him. Was desperate to get to him.
Craig rushed out and there was a nasty confrontation. Brian Kinney was taken away by the police and Craig was smug in his victory.
And Jennifer -- she knew she was a coward for standing back and saying nothing.
The one person Justin would want to see when he awoke was Brian Kinney. The man he loved.
Jennifer knew it and hated it. Hated that this man had taken the place in Justin's heart that rightly belonged to her. First place.
But if Brian had been a woman, had been Justin's wife, would Jennifer have begrudged her that place? Would she have allowed Craig to turn her away? Allowed her to be dragged off to jail, protesting? Calling for her lover -- calling in vain?
No. It never would have happened.
Justin was fretful. He seemed to be struggling for consciousness. But then he'd slip back. Slip away from her.
Jennifer took her son's hand and squeezed it. "Justin? Can you hear me? Please, darling! Wake up. Speak to me!"
But the hours went by and still Justin slept.
"It might be days, Mrs. Taylor," said the resident on duty. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? Your husband has gone home."
Yes, thought Jennifer. He won this round from Brian Kinney. He can go home and enjoy his worthless triumph.
"No," she said. "I want to be here when he wakes up. Whenever that is. I have to be here. I want my face to be the first thing he sees. That way he'll know he's safe."
"It's your decision," said the doctor. "Merry Christmas."
She took a few minutes to call Molly and make sure she was okay. She was staying at a friend's house. The parents had promised to take care of her, but it wasn't a very Merry Christmas for her poor daughter. Her family was broken. Her brother was broken. Then Jennifer called her sister June in Chicago. June was making plans to come to Pittsburgh tomorrow. June was always so organized. She'd bring Molly home and get the house in order. She'd tell Jennifer what was right and what was wrong. And she'd know how to deal firmly with Craig. She'd give Jen the courage to do what she had to do.
It was late now. Close to midnight. One of the night nurses, an older African-American man, came in and checked on Justin. And he checked on Jennifer, too. He said his name was Ray and that she should call him if she needed anything. Anything at all.
"Your boy is gonna be fine," he said. "He has a beautiful mother watching over him. That's reason enough to wake up."
Jennifer nodded. But was it?
She felt herself dozing off, but something jolted her awake.
She looked over at Justin and he was looking back at her, his blue eyes wide. His mouth was open, but his lips and tongue were dry. He tried to whisper something, his voice low and hoarse.
"What, darling?" Jennifer asked eagerly. "What is it? What do you want? Tell me!"
"Brian!" Justin rasped. "He was calling me! Where is he? Where's Brian? I want him!"
And then Justin closed his eyes in exhaustion and fell back to sleep.
***