Rico's Recovery (Detroit Heat Book 2) (3 page)

My parents stayed for the first two days, but I finally had enough and sent them away. Ma was doting on me, and I could see them getting ragged from sleeping in chairs.

As she was tucking my sheets, I grabbed her hand. “Ma, what did I just say?”

She looked up at me, and I could clearly see that she had missed my speech. “Rico, let me get this sheet changed.”

“Ma, you have to go. It’s been two days. Are you really gonna stay until I can walk out of here? You’re really gonna let Pop take care of Sara all by himself? They’re probably eating cereal and pizza for every meal.”

Ma was hurting, and I wasn’t helping. I knew that, but I needed some peace. “
You
need to take care of yourself, too, Ma. I’m gonna need you real bad in the next few weeks, so I need you in fighting shape.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah…”

“Can you do that for me?” She nodded. “You’re gonna go home and get some sleep?”

“I guess I could use a shower, huh?”

I laughed. “Ma, you can’t possibly smell any worse than I do. There is one hell of a funk coming from the cast.”

She stood up. “Okay, okay. You convinced me. I’ll get out of your hair for a bit, but how about lunch tomorrow?” I could see the hopeful look returning to her eyes.

“Of course. That sounds great.”

As she turned to leave, there was a knock at the door. I answered. “Yeah, come on in.” I figured it was another technician that needed a blood sample, or someone checking on my fluids.

Instead, my battalion chief walked in dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He smiled at Ma. “Mrs. Baggio, how are you?”

She hugged him. “Good. You?”

“I’m doing all right. I figured I might get a chance to see Rico not sleeping for a change.”

I gave him a dirty look before my mother turned around. “Well, he’s all yours. He has officially kicked me out of the room.”

Clay played up the conversation, taking her side. “Kicking your own mother out? Rico, I never would have expected that kind of behavior from you. No respect, I tell ya. No respect.”

Ma laughed and turned back to me. “See you tomorrow, Rico. Get some sleep.”

I nodded. “I will, Ma. Say hi to Sara and Pop.” Once she had left and I knew she was far enough away, I asked Clay, “Would you mind helping me scoot up? My back is killing me, and I’ve only got one arm to work with here.”

He stepped up to the side of the bed. “No problem.”

I leaned forward. “Just give me something to pull up on.” Clay held an arm out, and I grabbed onto it and slid up the bed far enough to take some weight off my lower back. “Thanks. It takes two nurses to move me, so I try to save them the trouble when I can.”

Three days in, and I was keeping my spirits up. It felt that way, at least. Asking Clay to help me must have uncovered something that I had been doing my best to ignore, because out of nowhere, I broke down.

Tears streamed over my cheeks and I covered my face with my working hand and turned away. The last thing I wanted was for my chief to see me bawling like a child. I was a tough son-of-a-bitch.

It wasn’t the pain. I could handle pain. It was the realization that my career was over. I had no doubt that Clay was there to tell me I’d be taken care of for life, but my locker wouldn’t be waiting for me when I was released from the hospital. Could I blame him?

“Sorry, Clay. Really, I’ve been doing well. With my family here, I’ve—”

He cut me off, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. “With your family here, you’ve been able to focus on anything but what’s going to happen to you.”

I nodded, the emotion cutting off the words I wanted to scream:
I’m done. Finished. Disabled.

He let me cry it out for a little while. I heard him drag a chair beside my bed. The last thing I wanted was to talk. I wanted him to break the news and get the fuck out of my room. I knew him better than that. Clay was the type of boss that sat down with you when you made a mistake. He didn’t punish; he talked you through it. He wasn’t going anywhere, and I wasn’t getting up to rush out any time soon.

I sucked my snot back and tried to pull my shit together. I stared at my broken legs. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

“No need. Don’t let that hero shit get to your head. Firefighters see the worst of the worst, and I’ll quit on the day you show me one who hasn’t cried before. You take care of yourself. It seems like you’ve spent the last few days making sure your family keeps it together. So, who’s keeping you together?”

Tears escaped my eyes once again. The pristine white sheets were catching each drop. My mind was blank. It felt like I’d been up for three days straight. Nothing was making sense, and I couldn’t form a sentence or an answer to save my life.

I raised my hand back over my eyes. Clay leaned in and put his hand on my shoulder. It only made me cry harder. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted…”

“I’ve heard that before. You know what no one ever says, but they should? ‘Man, I’d take Rico crippled over dead any day.’ I’ve buried four brothers. My father was one of them. I would give anything to have him here. If he’d been hurt that night instead of killed, he’d be here telling you the exact same thing. You did it, Rico. You fuckin’ did it, man. You made it all the way.”

I nodded, still keeping my eyes closed tight. “I made it as far as I ever will. I’m through. I know enough medical shit to know that I’m through.”

For a while, neither of us spoke. I had the crying somewhat under control, but I was still sucking back snot. A box of tissues dropped into my lap.

When I looked up at Clay, all he asked was, “You done? Can we get down to business?”

After a wipe, I nodded.

“Good. First, the union is behind you completely. You’re going to get full pay as long as you’re in the hospital, and after that things get a bit tricky.” He looked away.

Bad news. “Tricky how?”

“Well.” He was stalling for time. Very bad news. “That depends on your level of recovery. If the doctors clear you for light duty, we’re going to try to score you a desk job with the department. That would probably put you downtown, and you’d be set for life.”

My boss must have seen the look in my eyes. It was a look of devastation. I didn’t know which option sounded worse. I could be out of work for the rest of my life, or stuck behind a desk listening to all the guts and glory instead of living it.

Clay squeezed my shoulder. “I mean, there’s the chance you make a full recovery and come back to Engine 37. I don’t want to give you false hope, though. I talked to your physician, and he gave it to me pretty straight.”

“Then you owe me the same courtesy.”

“You’re right. I do. He gives you ten-to-one odds on a full recovery. He is confident he can get you out of here on your feet. Might need a cane for over a year, but he can get you walking. He doesn’t think you’ll run, climb, or carry much weight. You’ll be susceptible to some bad shit later in life like osteoporosis and easy return breaks. I’m sure you’ve heard this more times than you want to, but you
are
lucky, Rico.”

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. It was hard to feel lucky when you had a tube shoved inside you and a bedpan that you couldn’t get to in time. It was hard to feel lucky when the thing that made you proudest in the world shattered before your eyes. A cane? I’d walk with a cane at twenty-three years old?

The lump was returning to my throat, and I wasn’t going to be able to keep myself together much longer. “Clay, I think I’m done with visiting hours for today. These meds…” It was a flimsy excuse, but I didn’t care. “These meds got me all kinds of fucked up. I might not even remember this in the morning.”

He got the hint. “Sure, sure. You need your rest. I’ll be back later in the week.”

I acknowledged him, but only just. “Sounds good. Mind closing the door on the way out?”

“Of course, Rico. I’ll see you later, brother.”

I stared into space as white-hot anger rose inside me. “Sure,
brother
.” The word was poison to me. I heard the door latch closed and I held my breath. My right fist was clenched tight, and I could feel the pain as my left hand tried to do the same.

After a ten-count, I knew Clay would be out of earshot. I let out a scream into my pillow that left me feeling ragged and exhausted, but at least I didn’t need to cry anymore.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about Ricardo. His story had made the Detroit news, and probably national too. They were calling him a hero, a shining example of the bravery of the fire department—Detroit’s in particular. It was great publicity, even if the media dragged his story into the spotlight when I’m sure his family wanted some peace.

I checked in with the doctor who was monitoring Ricardo’s progress. Dr. Jolie was doing his best to keep Ricardo’s family away from the media.
 
He wasn’t answering any of their questions, not that he could.
 
They cared more about the story than about the patient, himself.
 
Most of the time I just shook my head, but it was hard to ignore.

The nurse had been right to bring Ricardo’s case to me. I read over his files a few nights in a row, just trying to decide where I’d start. He had so much work to do, and every exercise had to complement all the others or the whole thing would tumble like dominos.

After a week, I only had the skeleton of a plan. Usually I didn’t meet my patients until after they were released from the ICU, but with such an extensive road ahead of us, I needed to sit down with Ricardo and at least introduce myself. If I could get a feel for him, I might be able to tailor a plan to his character.

“I said I didn’t want to fucking see anyone!”

I wasn’t even to his room yet and I could hear him screaming. A nurse I didn’t recognize backed out of the doorway, her hands in the air. “Rico, she just wants to meet you and discuss your physical therapy.”

“Fuck
off!”

He sounded fired up. My heart leapt into my throat, and I considered rescheduling.

But before I could turn around, the nurse saw me and gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. We’re weaning him off of his pain meds and it’s not going so hot. If you want to come back another time—”

“No, I actually think now is the best time to see him.” I’ll never know why I said that. Maybe I wanted to see Detroit’s hero in the flesh. Maybe I wanted to show him I was as tough as he was. Or maybe I was a martyr. Whatever the reason, the nurse cleared the doorway and ushered me in.

I tried to control my pulse, but it was no use. I took a deep breath and released it. In I went.

“Oh, Jesus.” Ricardo threw his hand up and brought it down again on the bed. “Does nobody listen? Hey, lady, I’m sorry, but I’m not really up for visitors right now.”

He was covered in sweat, and his breaths were labored and quick.
 
I stood in the doorway. I didn’t think he’d get violent and cause himself any harm, but if he did, I wanted to be able to get clear of the nurses in a hurry. I kept a pleasant smile on my face. “I know. You haven’t been much for visitors the last few days, have you?”

From what the nurses had told me, Ricardo’s family hadn’t come around for the last few days and he’d turned away any other visitors that had come. His morale, it seemed, had gone down the toilet in a hurry.

He just stared straight ahead, so I went on. “My name is Lizzie. I’d like to come in and talk to you about the next few months.”

Ricardo turned to me. His face looked sunken. It was clear that he wasn’t eating. Even IV fluids would only do so much to keep him from losing weight. He wasn’t the man I’d seen pictures of on the TV and in the newspapers.

He almost smiled at me then. “I don’t care, Lizzie. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Goodbye.”
 

Turning around, the nurse gave me a shrug. She may have been defeated, but I wasn’t. I stepped in further and shut the door.

“I said get out!”

“I heard you. Let me say my piece and then I’ll go.” Once again, he didn’t answer me. I went on. “I can get you walking again. I’ve seen your X-rays, and your doctor has been keeping me abreast of what’s been going on with your recovery. I’m sure the doctors and nurses have been pretty cold when it comes to managing expectations, but listen to me. I can get you walking.”