Clarity 4 Page 3

  I only hope that Mr. Winters can handle this news, considering his failing health. But I suppose it's better coming directly from me than from the hospital's administrative staff. Swallowing a lump of emotion, I bite the bullet and call the old man. Even though it's early in the morning, he answers the phone quite quickly.

  "Hello, Liam?" he says in a surprised voice.

  "Mr. Winters, sir. I'm calling about Helen..."

  "Liam, son, please let me apologize first. I'm so sorry about everything I said yesterday. I don't know what came over me. I know this won't make up for the cruel things I said, but I have written you a glowing recommendation and already emailed it to the supervisor."

  "Thank you, sir," I say softly, "but this isn't about—"

  "No, hear me out,” Mr. Winters says quietly. “I was completely out of line. I guess I just really wanted to see my baby girl again." He seems choked up, and he clears his throat. "Anyway, Liam, you are a very skilled and dedicated doctor. If anyone deserves that grant, it's you. I meant every word of that recommendation, and I wish you only the best."

  These are nice words, but I can't bring myself to care about my career at the moment. "I appreciate that, sir, but I'm calling because..."

  "Why do you insist on calling me sir, Liam? You can call me Richard, son."

  Taking a very deep, shuddering breath, I clench my eyes together tightly. My own father insisted that I only call him 'sir' because the word 'dad' was too intimate for him. He thought that 'sir' commanded more respect and obedience. "Richard," I say awkwardly. "Your daughter came to visit me at work yesterday and she overheard our phone conversation. She got upset and decided to visit your house before driving off to Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, she ran into Grayson, and—well, he did something very upsetting. She left and tried to run away from the city, but there happened to be a serious thunderstorm--"

  "What are you saying?" Mr. Winters asks, and his voice is incredulous.

  "Helen's vision faltered and she drove her car off a cliff," I explain hesitantly. "She is in critical condition right now, and I think you should come to visit her as soon as you can. They won't let me in to see her because I'm not family. But from what little they've told me, they're not sure if she's going to survive more than a couple hours."

  There is a long silence on the other end of the line as Mr. Winters absorbs this information.

  "Liam," he says finally, and it sounds like he has aged ten years. "Do you know that Grayson killed himself last night?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "My eldest daughter has just lost her husband, and the father of her unborn child. And now you tell me that my youngest daughter is injured? If this is some kind of game to get back at me for the ultimatums I gave you, I need you to understand that I really can't handle this additional stress right now. I deserve your hatred, Liam, but I can’t take it."

  "Sir—I mean Richard—please know that I do not hate you. I wish that I didn't have to make this phone call. I'm so sorry. I am responsible for hurting your daughter so much that she wanted to get away from me, and I'll never forgive myself."

  "Nonsense, boy," Mr. Winters says softly. "I asked you to hurt her, so that she'd come running home to me. I never considered that she would want to run away from all of us, but I should have known. That's my Helen—my brave little bird. No one could ever keep her caged up for very long."

  "I'll text you the address, sir. I hope you'll be able to get here in time...I'll do everything I can to make sure that she lives. Which isn't much at the moment, since they won't even let me see her."

  "Just pray for her, son. Maybe God will listen to the prayers of a man in love." The old man sighs deeply. "I'll get Carmen, and we'll be there as soon as we can. Text me the address."

  When he hangs up the phone, I find myself staring blankly into space. It takes me a moment before I am able to send him the hospital's address, for I am so caught up in thinking about what he said about love. And praying. And God.

  It's times like these, I suppose, when we all remember our religion.

  I remember what Grayson told Helen, over and over—the words that grated on her nerves more than anything else.

  He called her an angel.

  Well, I certainly hope not. I like my girlfriend being a human woman, made from flesh and blood. I am not ready to surrender her to heaven just yet.

  At least not for a few decades. Hopefully, not during my lifetime.

  When I hear the squeak of running shoes on linoleum, I look up expectantly. My body is filled with a rush of relief when I see Owen strolling in with a leather jacket and pink scarf. The smile on his face is filled with kindness and strength, and I am suddenly overwhelmed by the certainty that things are going to be okay. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I stand up to grab Owen in a big manly hug.

  “It’s just a bad day, buddy,” Owen assures me as he claps his hand against my back. “It’ll be over soon, and things will be hunky-dory again. I’ll soon be teasing Winter about that time she got mad at you and drove off a mountain to make a statement. It’ll be hilarious.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, fighting back my tears. “How the hell did you get here so fast?”

  “I just ignored all those signs with numbers at the side of the road. I had to flirt my way out of a speeding ticket, but it was worth it.”

  “Owen,” I say quietly. “You don’t have to tell stories to cheer me up. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  “I swear that I’m not shitting you! It was this chubby lady-cop who pulled me over, and she definitely appreciated my flirting. She let me off with only a warning, and also gave me her phone number. If Winter is still determined to dump you, maybe I could try to set you up with the chubby cop?”

  “No, thanks. I’m going to win her back.”

  “Sure, sure,” Owen says, lifting his eyebrows. “I guarantee that will only work if she’s hit her head really hard.”

  “She has,” I tell him quietly.

  “Aw, shucks. Well, then maybe she’ll have lost enough brain cells to find you attractive!”

  “That’s not funny,” I tell him softly, but he manages to make me smile anyway. I am so fucking glad he’s here. I didn’t have a single family member I could call: the only person in the world who truly feels like family is lying comatose in a hospital bed they won’t let me near. I could have called my father, but he would have been a prick and made it worse. My mother is so withdrawn and distant that she doesn’t give a shit about anything that’s going on around her. Everyone else is too distant or dead to care.

  But Owen dropped everything to drive here and support me.

  This man is the closest thing I have to a brother. I am so glad he’s here.

  Chapter Five

  It’s been hours. Hours.

  The worthless hospital staff won’t tell me anything. I am growing more and more paranoid by the minute. My foot is tapping the ground rapidly, and my eyes have been darting around to glare at all the nurses and doctors suspiciously. Even the janitors have been getting the stink-eye, because they could be in on it, too. For all I know, my girlfriend could be dead, and they’ve formed some sick conspiracy to keep it from me. She could be growing cold in the morgue as we speak.

  I should have married her.

  If Helen was my wife, they couldn’t keep her away from me. I would be family. I would be her emergency contact—the person who was allowed to be at her side when disaster strikes. I want to be that person. Now, more than ever, I know that I want to be that person.

  I only hope that I’ll still get a chance.

  “I need to see her,” I say suddenly, rising to my feet and marching over to the desk.

  The nurse clears her throat. “Unfortunately, we can’t allow—”

  “No!” Something in me snaps as I stare at her stupid, empty face. “I won’t wait a second longer. I’m a fucking doctor! You can’t keep me out of her room. I’m more qualified to be in there than you are.”

  “Sir, I’m so so
rry,” she squeaks in a terrified way. “It’s family-only unless the patient gives permission.”

  Cursing softly under my breath, I run my hands through my hair. “She can’t fucking give permission if she’s unconscious!”

  “Sir, if you don’t settle down I’ll have security remove you from this hospital.”

  “Calm down, buddy,” Owen says softly, moving to my side. “She’s almost been stabilized, and that’s all that matters. The little lady will wake up and ask for you soon. She’s going to be okay.”

  “She didn’t even want to be taken to the hospital,” I mumble miserably. “I should have listened to her. I should have taken care of her myself.”

  “You did the best you could,” Owen assures me. “Let’s just try to relax and trust the other professionals to handle things.”

  “In this backward-ass shack they call a hospital, in the middle of nowhere?” I say through gritted teeth. “I should have just driven her home to civilization. But when she fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up...” My mind drifts back to that moment in the car.

  From what I understand, Helen hasn’t been awake since then. Is it my fault? Did I let this happen to her? Could I have taken better care of her? Am I a violent bastard like my father?

  “Jim, please stop cursing like that in front of the boy,” my mother whispers in fear. “He hears everything, you know? I don’t want Liam to grow up sounding so vulgar.”

  “Vulgar? That’s what you think of me, whore?” My father’s slurring words and alcohol breath always mixed together in the worst combination. I remember him grabbing my mother by the throat and squeezing his large hand around her small neck. “I’ll show you vulgar.”

  My mother was sent to the hospital many times over the years, due to my father’s direct brutality and accidental indiscretions. Is this what I have done to Helen?

  Maybe I shouldn’t ask her to marry me. I’m toxic. I could end up hurting her even more than this. Years of fighting and drama building up between us could crush the spirit of a girl like that. I would never want to do that to her. I would never want Helen to be miserable and weighed down by the burden of life like my mother.

  I vaguely hear the sound of footsteps behind me, but I ignore it and continue to get lost in my thoughts. When I found Helen close to the scene of her car crash, I could tell that she didn’t want to survive. She wanted to die and be free from this world, and all her pain and fear. I know that Grayson was a big part of that, but how much did I contribute?

  How could I have been so dreadful that I made my girlfriend want to die to be free of me?

  When I hear a throat being cleared and a man’s booming voice, I turn around in surprise.

  “Liam,” says Mr. Winters in a tired voice. He looks older than ever with his silver hair and wizened face. “Thank you for calling me, son.”

  “Richard,” I say weakly. “This is all my fault...” I continue speaking, but I notice that Carmen is standing beside him. Her angry eyes lock with mine briefly. I am a bit startled by how massively pregnant she is. The last time I saw her, she was barely even showing.

  Her husband is dead, I think to myself. This poor girl’s husband is dead, and it is possibly my fault. The sight of her swollen belly brings back memories of when my mother was pregnant with my little sister. I was seven years old, and impossibly excited. There are few things more magical in a child’s life than learning you’re soon going to have a younger sibling to love.

  “I fucking told you already, Janet! We can’t afford another mouth to feed in this house. Doesn’t the damn boy cost us enough money? Get rid of that fucking thing before it sucks away our lives again.”

  “That thing? That thing is your daughter, Jim. And Liam barely eats enough as it is. You won’t have to help me out with the baby. I don’t need you to help take care of her or change diapers. I make a little money, and it’s enough. I’m going to keep my baby.”

  Of course, my father had other ideas. A few months of intense physical and psychological abuse, and much to his delight, my mother lost her baby. My father never had a second mouth to feed, and I never had a little sister to love. My poor mother was never the same. Am I just like him?

  Did I just unintentionally subject Carmen to the same pain and suffering as my mother?

  How the hell did this happen? How did one single lie end up getting blown out of proportion like this? How did one single mistake create a domino effect that managed to rip through our lives? I’ve hurt Helen, her father, her sister...

  I never knew it until this moment, but I’ll never escape my past.

  I am just like my father. I am just like him.

  Chapter Six

  Sitting at Helen's bedside, I grasp her hand tightly and squeeze her slender fingers. The family has finally officially granted me permission to visit, and I have been staying with her as much as the doctors will allow. Her sister Carmen has also been camped out with me; the blonde woman is evidently very upset about Helen’s condition. She is having a little bit of difficulty understanding the situation from a medical standpoint, and I’ve been trying to reassure her. However, it’s difficult to be a detached and informative doctor when the patient is my girlfriend. The human brain is a fragile and complex machine, and I am not certain of a positive outcome. Medicine is not an exact science.

  What if she never wakes up?

  This thought keeps crossing my mind at random moments. What if Helen were to remain in this comatose state forever? I know that it's highly unlikely, but my thoughts keep wandering. It's been a day or two since the accident; I don't remember. Time has been passing all too quickly, and far too slowly at the same time.

  What if she doesn't wake up the same?

  This is another big concern of mine. What if she does regain consciousness, but loses some cognitive function? I can’t even begin to imagine this, so I try to ignore the frightening thought. But what if she loses important motor skills? I've worked so hard to give her the ability to see, and tweaking that ability to perfection—but what if she loses the ability to control her hands? What if her speech is impaired? She loves writing so much that it breaks my heart to think of any potential long-term injuries that could affect her career.

  What if she hates me when she wakes up?

  Of all the anxiety-causing thoughts that have been setting my nerves on edge, this is the worst. After everything I've kept bottled up and hidden from her, I would completely understand if she kicks me out of this hospital room and asks never to see me again. I don't think I could cope with that. I think I'd have to get down on my knees and beg her for a second chance like a pathetic lunatic. I don't care what it takes: I'll do anything.

  I am staring at Helen's face so hard that I don't notice when Owen returns to the room. It is only when he shoves a strange plastic-wrapped item into my hands that I look down to identify the odd object. A sandwich? What the hell would I need with a sandwich?

  Pushing him and his offering away, I frown in frustration. “Not now, Owen. I’ll eat when Winter’s awake.”

  “Staring at her isn’t going to make her wake up any faster,” Owen points out as he tosses the packaged meal at me, forcing me to catch it. “Don’t you want to be strong enough to take care of her when she needs you?”

  Placing the sandwich aside with a groan of exasperation, I notice that there is a fresh cup of steaming coffee sitting on the bedside table beside me as well. I had been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed Owen's kindness.

  “Thanks for the coffee, man,” I tell him, before taking a generous gulp. I remember what Dr. Keating said about the caffeine pills, and I wish I had some of those on me now. I know that I've been up for at least 36 hours, and I'm starting to get more than a little lightheaded and delirious. Still, I don't care. Dragging the back of my fist over my lips to remove a few stray drops of coffee, I frown. “I’m not going to sleep until Winter wakes up. I don’t care about the fucking visiting hours. I need to apologize to her—and yell at her for b
eing stupid enough to drive her car off a cliff.”

  “It happens to the best of us,” Owen says softly. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a dick, and had just been honest from the start, to both her and me...”

  My head snaps toward Owen sharply. “I’m not ready to have this conversation right now. You know why I did what I did.”

  Giving me a gentle shrug, Owen smiles sadly. “I don’t know anything about you, sometimes. You knew how badly Winter had been hurt in the past. You knew this was going to crush her.”

  Why is he behaving like this? Why is he bringing this up right here and now? I don't want to get angry at Owen. I know he is just trying to help, but my anger simply won't be suppressed. “Look, man," I mumble, clenching my jaw. "You know that she might be able to hear us even though she’s unconscious. Can we avoid talking about this for now? Can we just keep things light and positive? I’ll have this conversation with her privately later, and I’ll explain everything.”

  “Whatever,” Owen says, turning to Carmen with a helpless look. “I guess he’s determined to keep brushing it under the rug. I imagine that if Winter could hear us, she would love to know the truth. Anyhoo—onto lighter topics: Carmen, is it a boy or a girl?”

  It suddenly occurs to me that Owen was just attacking me to impress Carmen. I can see the way that they are looking at each other, and it puzzles me a little. Owen has a girlfriend that he adores, and I've never seen him look at her the way he's looking at Helen's sister.

  “It’s a girl,” Carmen says softly, after staring at Owen for several seconds.

  “Do you have a name yet?” Owen asks.

  This conversation causes me to get lost in my own thoughts again. I remember the little sister I never had, and placing my hand on my mother's belly to try and feel her kick. Did I ever get to feel her kick? I don't know. It was so long ago, and I was so young that I can't separate the things I imagined from reality. I seem to recall having full conversations with my baby sister, but this seems unlikely as she never learned to speak. I also remember lending her my crayons so that she could join me in making pictures of our family, but this also seems unlikely, since she never learned to draw.