Page 32 of Letters Book Two
I ran for the door and stuck my head out and into the hall. “Nurse! Doctor! He’s awake. Mr. Bowers is awake!” I hurried to Clint’s bed and pulled the curtain the rest of the way open. He would have only been able to see my back when I was tending to Lucas, so I doubted he knew me. I knew no one named Wall Street.
“What did you call me?” I asked gently, still amazed to see an open-eyed person lying there after three weeks. “The nurse is on his way,” I said. A male nurse was on duty, and I’d caught his attention through the door. He’d grabbed the phone and was telling someone on the other end about Mr. Bowers. “Do we know each other?” I asked.
He cleared his throat and took a long-drawn breath. He was awake, but still getting reacquainted with reality. “Lucas? Where’s Jenson?” He looked down at the IV in the top of his hand. “He didn’t die, did he?” He was struggling to sit up, trying hard to see around his curtain. “I named youWall Street. Aren’t you his boyfriend?”
“Yes, I am. It’s Perry actually. Perry Jackson, Mr. Bowers,” I whispered, still overwhelmed with happiness at seeing him speaking.
“Who the fuck is Mr. Bowers?” he gasped, short of breath and closing his eyes. He lay silent for several moments. I thought perhaps he had slipped away again. Chad walked over and slid his hand into mine and spoke quietly.
“Is he out again?” he asked, nervously staring at Clint.
“I ain’t gone nowhere.” He opened his eyes slightly and they moved back and forth between us. He tried to turn his head toward Chad, but it was a wasted effort, only his eyes managed the motion. “You’ve been holding my hand and talking to me. Why’d you do that? What’s your name?” Clint eyed Chad suspiciously.
Chad let go of my hand and smiled at Clint, walking to his bedside. He grabbed his hand again, not caring how it looked or what Clint’s reaction might be. “I’m Chad Jorgenson. I’ve been worried about you, Clint.” Clint stared up at him, unsure of what to do or say. He moved his eyes to Chad’s hand, and I watched as a warm look slowly came across his face. His eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t unhappy. It wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t a frown either. It was acceptance that Chad meant no harm. Clint was feeling that thing that Chad possesses. The thing he delivers to you when he bonds with you.I had been on the receiving end of that feeling before. I wasn’t saddened to see Clint on the receiving end of it.Lucky him.
The nurses came swiftly into the room. Clint’s neurologist trailed behind after about a minute and a half. Chad and I moved to the foot of the bed. Clint did not take his eyes off Chad. Chad gently laid his hand on the top of the blanket that concealed Clint’s feet. “This ok, Clint?” he asked. Clint nodded.
“Mr. Bowers. What a pleasant surprise, young man. Welcome back.” The ICU doc had a flashlight waving across Clint’s eyes. “Where are you, Mr. Bowers?”
“Some sort of hospital, right? I mean, you look like a doctor to me.”
“Very good. Where do you live, Mr. Bowers?”
“Beaufort, why?” he answered, looking around at the gathering crowd. Two additional nurses and a medical technician were hooking him up to a machine. “What’s wrong? Why are you all looking so worried?” He nervously looked from doctor to doctor. “I’m paralyzed, right? You think something is wrong, dontcha?”
“No. Please relax. Take deep breaths and just relax. I need to listen to your lungs and check your heart. Nothing to worry about.” The neurologist held his gaze while he adjusted his stethoscope in his ears. “Breathe normal, Mr. Bowers.”
We were all quiet, watching as Clint’s eyes continued to scan the room. He looked like a cornered wolf. I knew Chad was sensing something because he moved his hands over Clint’s feet. “Relax, Clint. They just want to help you. You’re doing so good. Keep it up. Perry and I want to help you too. Would that be ok with you?”
Clint nodded his head and stared at the hypnotic creature at the foot of the bed.I know, mystery man, it’s weird, but he’s harmless.
“Mr. Bowers, can you move your hand for us?” a nurse asked, looking at him with kindness.
Clint stared down at the hand that had the IV in it. He was obviously willing his hand to move. Slowly it lifted off the bed and he looked up hopefully. “I can. I can move it, see?” He looked relieved and exhausted at the same time. His hand dropped down and remained motionless. “But, I can’t feel my right leg. It feels numb or asleep, or something. It’s still there, ain’t it?” He couldn’t lift his head to look down, so Chad lifted his own hand and held up two fingers, grinning at him.
“You had surgery on your right leg, Mr. Bowers. Your thigh took a bullet from close range and cracked your femur. What you are feeling is post-operative numbness. All indications are you’ll heal fine after rehab,” the doctor in charge said. “Can you wiggle your toes for us?” Chad gave him a thumbs up when he managed to move both sets of toes. “See? You are going to be just fine, Mr. Bowers.”
A tear slid down his cheek. “Stop calling me Mr. Bowers. That man died years ago. He was an asshole. I’m Clint.”
“Yes, of course. Welcome back, Clint.” The doctor smiled and nodded to the assembled crowd and then got up and walked out of the room.
Clint whispered hoarsely. “I’m going to be ok. I’m really going to be ok?” He looked unconvinced at the news, and then his face fell in despair. “Lucas? Where is he?” Our eyes moved to the right and we all gazed about ten feet away. “What’s wrong with him?” He looked carefully at us. “Lucas! It’s Bowers! Can you hear me?”
“He’s unconscious, Clint. He was in pretty rough shape like you,” I said.
He looked at the nurses urgently. “Leave me be. I’m fine now. You gotta fix Lucas up. Please... can you go help him?” His eyes darted to me and then back to the nurses. “Wall Street, he needs you. Get over there, fix him!”
My eyes welled up at his excruciating plea. “I wish I could, Clint. We’re trying our very best.”
“Get me over there! He’ll listen to me. I can wake him, I know I can! Please!” Clint yelled, desperate to secure care for Lucas.
I burst into tears and had to turn away from the group. Chad quickly came to my side and positioned my head on his shoulder. “Shhh... let it out, Perry. One at a time, remember? One hour at a time. One person at a time.” He turned to Clint and smiled. “We’ve got Clint back and next it’ll be Lucas. You’ll see.”
“You can’t know that, Chad! I need him to wake up now! Goddamn it! Now!” I hollered, my face twisted in pain.
“Quiet down, Wall Street! Get your shit together, dude! Lucas needs you. This crap ain’t helping him. Calm the fuck down and get over there. Talk to him. I heard you guys when you were talking with me. I heard you, damn it! So can he, for fuck’s sake!” Clint seethed, out of breath after his outburst.
He certainly didn’t have Chad’s approach, but it was effective. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and drew a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right, sorry,” I said, shuffling to Lucas’s bedside. I turned back to Clint. He smiled and shook his head. I was sad and happy. Happy for Clint. Sad for my Lucas.
