Page 20 of Ruptured
Johnnie snatched Rory’s half, stalked to the fireplace, and threw it on the dying flames. “There, you little fuckhead. You don’t trust me?” he raged. “I don’t help? Fuck you. No one respects me or looks at my value. Fuck you!”
Bursting into tears, Rory turned and ran out.
Johnnie stared at the door yawning open, the hallway’s black void leaving a haunting echo of his son’s sobs.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck had he done?
February 25th
Dad, Ryder, and Ransom, rotated visits to Mom’s room,although Ransom’s drawn look and tired eyes concerned CJ. Axel didn’t want Diesel out of his sight, so they only visited together. Uncle Mort also checked on Mom and CJ periodically. Dad never lingered. He’d go to Mom’s bedside, lean down, stroke her hair, and give her a quick kiss.
CJ still found his behavior unsettling. Dad almost seemedangry. Although CJ understood, he didn’t want Dad’s negative energy to affect Mom’s recovery. When he asked about Rebel, Dad said they would run more tests and she couldn’t have visitors yet, which gave CJ the perfect excuse to shoo his father. He needed to keep watch over Rebel and Jo, while CJ stayed with Mom, and if there were any changes with her, CJ would call him.
Dad agreed without question.
CJ: Dr. Pritchard wrote orders to scale back Mom’s sedation.
Not long after the doctor left, CJ texted his father, glancing at Mom, hoping she awakened. But nothing. Rationally, he knew she still had drugs in her system.
An incoming text alert interrupted his worry.
Dad:
As the afternoon graduated to evening on the second day, CJ took a shower, appreciating Uncle Mort for bringing him clean clothes.
He didn’t linger, mainly because the ‘hot’ water barely felt warm. Of all the amenities Dad, their family, and the club members and their families enjoyed at Hortensia General, hot water wasn’t amongst them.
Sighing, CJ finished dressing. He hadn’t shaved in almost a week and stubble was beginning to show itself but he couldn’t bother with it. He balled his dirty clothes and walked back into his mother’s room, hungry but not looking forward to hospital food. Not wanting to dirty his one remaining clean outfit, he put his dirty laundry next to his bag instead of inside it, grabbed his phone, and turned.
“Hey, potato,” Mom croaked.
CJ froze. Swallowed. Blinked. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry in relief or laugh with joy. He kept it simple. “Hey, Mom.”
“Rebel?”
“In another room,” he said, not moving from the spot he stood. He’d kept vigil close to her bed for almost two days. Now, he couldn’t seem to make himself go to her. “Dad’s with her.”
“She’s okay?”
As far as CJ knew. He nodded. “After I call the nurse, I’ll let Dad know you’re awake.”
“The nurse has already been in here,” she responded.
“I-I’ll get Dad.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Sit for a bit, son. Talk to me.”
CJ took a step toward her, then halted, afraid he was dreaming. Afraid he’d awaken and discover neither Mom nor Rebel survived. “Dad probably wants to see you.”
“I’m sure he does,” Mom agreed. “I want to see him, but I want you to talk to me. Tell me why you’re standing in that spot like someone glued you.”
Unable to find the right response, CJ shrugged.
“How was the party?”
Awful and a disappointment. “A party,” CJ mumbled. “Nothing like I imagined.”
“Ummm.”
