Page 160 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“Twelve days?”
My jaw drops as I try to wrap my head around the number. That’salmost two weeks. I look back at his hair. Two weeks’ worth of growth. Has he not left? Has he been here this whole time?
“How?”
Torren’s face goes ashen and tears well in his eyes once more. I brace myself for the worst, but I don’t look away. “Tell me. I can handle it. Please.”
“The accident was pretty bad.” His voice cracks, and I track a tear as it slips down his cheek. He sniffs, uses the hand not clutching mine to wipe his eyes, and continues, slow and steady. “They had to cut you out of the Porsche and airlift you. You had head trauma and internal bleeding in your abdomen. They performed emergency surgery, and then they induced a coma to allow your body to heal. Then they took you out of the coma, and tonight you woke up.”
He trails off with a forced smile, but I can tell there’s more he’s not saying. There’s something he doesn’t want to talk about.
“You’re leaving something out,” I say slowly. His face tightens, and my stomach twists. “Just tell me, Torren.”
He jerks out a nod. “They were able to stop the internal bleeding, but...the accident... There were six other cars. You swerved, but the car behind you didn’t. The Porsche rolled twice and then was T-boned. The driver’s side took a significant impact. You’re lucky to be alive...”
“But?”
The pause is a physical pain that I can feel swelling inside my chest. I can hear it whooshing in my ears. When he finally speaks, it’s how I imagine the accident would have felt if I could remember it.
“Your left forearm and hand were broken pretty badly. They’ve already done three surgeries, but?—”
Torren’s voice fades into static as I realize I can’t move my left arm. I look down and find it wrapped and pinned into some sort of cage. And then, all at once, it starts to throb. Sharp, consistent pain radiating from my fingertips to my shoulder, to the side of my face. My head pounds.
“Oh my god.” I try to move my fingers, then gasp in pain. “Oh my god.” I whip terrified eyes to his. “Why am I only now...How come I couldn’t...”
“Pain meds,” he forces out. “Disorientation from the coma, I guess.”
A thought hits me that seizes the air in my lungs. A question so terrifying that I can barely form it on my tongue, but Torren knows. Hecan see it in my face, and when his tears fall faster, my whole world tilts on its side. I fist my right hand, tucking my trembling fingers into my palm, and force myself to utter the words on a shaky whisper.
“Will I be able to play again?”
His silence tells me everything I need to know.
It’s mid-morning when I wake again.
The sun is streaming into the room, illuminating cream-colored walls and ugly grayish-beige tile, and I’m alone.
All at once, the news washes back over me. A freight train of heartbreak.
Will I be able to play again?
Deafening silence.
They had to come sedate me. Again.
I clamp my eyes shut and try to focus on something else. I wiggle my toes. I flex the fingers on my right hand. I breathe in and out.
It’s fine. I’m alive. My family is safe.
It will be fine.
When my stomach cramps, I find a button next to my bed and push it. A nurse arrives immediately.
“Ms. James.” She smiles warmly. “It’s good to see you awake. Are you in pain?”
“I, um, I actually have to use the bathroom.”
“Okay. Would you like to attempt the restroom, or would you prefer a bedpan?”
