Damage Done
So I know it's been a while, but here is part three of Damage Done. It's a bit of a filler chapter and I'm not entirely happy with it, but it takes the story in the direction I want it to go, so.... yeah. On with the story....
When I woke up I was lying on a stretcher next to Ville's bed. There were two women hovering over me, in that overly concerned way that only women do. One was a nurse, the other was Anita. When they realised I'd come to the both sighed. With relief, I assume.
"Brandon, what on earth did you do to yourself?" Anita asked me sternly, like I'd fainted on purpose. I just shrugged, not really knowing how to answer her. She sighed again, in exasperation this time, I think.
"You're half the size you were when I last saw you. How long since you ate a decent meal?" She asked. I felt my eyes go wide. It was the first time anybody had noticed my weight loss and it pissed me off that it came from Ville's mother, the woman who I barely knew. My own mother was too busy shouting at me for whatever my latest prank was to take any notice. My annoyance must have shown in my eyes for Anita's face suddenly went soft and she watched me in careful concern.
"People close to you probably wouldn't notice if it's happened gradually. It usually happens that way. But seriously, when was the last time you ate?" She asked gently.
"I don't remember," I answered truthfully. My worry about Ville and my dread of coming home to play house with a woman who I really wasn't in love with had taken it's toll and I had stopped eating properly, stopped sleeping properly. The purple rings under my eyes were the norm lately and I'd taken to swiping Missy's make-up to make myself look even vaguely presentable.
"Brandon dear you really need to eat something. How about if I go get you something from the cafeteria?" she seemed insistent but I couldn't help but make a face at the mention of the cafeteria.
"Blech! If you're going to force-feed me can I at least have real food?" I asked. She chuckled softly and I was instantly reminded of Ville. That deep, dorky laugh of his that I found so endearing was a sound that my ears were desperate to hear. I didn't realise that I was crying until Anita reached out to brush my tears off my face.
"He'll be fine Brandon. He'll pull through this. He has to!" She exclaimed. Her words were almost identical to the ones I'd used earlier with Mige and I had to smile through my tears that we were both so determined that he wouldn't leave us. That he couldn't. We wouldn't survive it. I sat up and pulled myself slowly off the stretcher and immediately gathered Anita into a hug. We squeezed each other tight, until I began to feel short of breath. I let go of her gently and we simultaneously turned to look at the still form of her son, his eyes closed and his hair matted nearly to his head. We stood for a long time, just watching him, willing him to wake up. Finally the doctor came in and told us that visiting hours were over. I looked out the window and was startled to realise that it had gotten dark. Visiting hours were well and truly over. And yet I didn't want to leave. How could I? What if he woke up? I had to be there.
"Can't I stay? Please? I need to be here!" I exclaimed to the doctor, aware of how desperate I sounded. The doctor stared hard at me for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"I really don't think that-" he started but Anita cut him off.
"Please doctor. I was allowed to stay with him last night. Can't we stay with him again tonight?" Her voice sounded as pleading and desperate as mine. The doctor shook his head and frowned at us.
"Look, maybe one of you, as the stretcher is already set up, but two... " he trailed off. Anita and I looked at each other.
"You stay Brandon, I can see how badly you need to. I feel like I haven't showered or slept for a month so it will do me good to go home and get cleaned up," she said in a low voice, her face soft. I nodded.
"Thankyou so much, Anita. I will call you straight away if anything happens," I promised. She looked at me for a long moment, then cradled my face in her hands. She kissed my forehead tenderly and then locked her eyes on mine.
"You're a good boy Brandon. I can see how much you care for my Ville," and with that she was gone. The doctor said nothing, but checked Ville's machinery and scribbled something on his chart, then left, still not saying a word. I shrugged. Doctors had never liked me. I complained too much, apparently. I turned back to Ville and stared at his pale face. I reached out a hand and stroked his forehead. He was slightly cool to the touch so I pulled his blanket up and tucked it underneath his chin. I continued to stroke his face softly, wishing to God that he would wake up. Eventually my eyes grew heavy and my jet-lag started to set in and I settled back into the stretcher where I had woken up earlier. I turned on my side and kept my eyes trained on Ville, so that his face was the last thing I saw before sleep crept up and overtook me.