Irreversible Damage (Irreparable) (29 page)

Tug’s hand on my shoulder startles me. I turn my head and notice that the man who was driving the car is in the back of a police car.

“What’s going on?”

“The guy’s two sheets to the wind.”

“Oh, God.” This is our fault. Tug’s and mine. I stand up, clutching my hands to my stomach. I look over my shoulder at Tug. “We did this.”

Tug’s hand slides around my waist. He tries to hold me. I resist. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t deserve it. He sighs. “I’ll take you to Andrew.”

I shake my head. Tears and snot cover my face. “He doesn’t want me there.”

Tug tucks some hair behind my ear. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to me. I take it and wipe my face. “No, but he needs you there.” His even tone soothes me. I want to go.

I nod in agreement, my head cloudy. I’m in a daze. This can’t be happening. Tug tucks me into his car.

When he gets in the driver’s seat, I turn to him and say, “Why’d you come back?”

He frowns and starts the car. “For you.”

Chapter 28

Tori

The ride to the hospital is quiet, besides my constant sobbing.

We rush through the emergency room doors. Tug asks the woman at the desk if they brought Andrew here. She explains that he was taken by helicopter to Children’s Hospital in San Diego. 

We turn to leave and come face to face with Brady. They must not have let him ride in the helicopter. No one says a word. We don’t have to. Instead, we walk to Tug’s car. I squeeze into the back seat before Brady climbs into the passenger side. The tension closes in around us until I’m suffocating. Boarder traffic isn’t bad, but merging onto the I-8 is dead stopped. Tug whips over into the breakdown lane and takes off. He flies into the parking lot and stops in front of the emergency room doors. Brady leaps from the car before it’s stopped without waiting for me.

I climb out and bend down to look at Tug. “Are you coming?”

“No.” His eyes stay focused on the front window.

“Thanks for bringing us.” I close the door. The tires squeal as he tears out of the parking lot. I race inside. The torment on Brady’s face is agonizing as I watch him pace frantically in the waiting room. I have nothing to offer him. He doesn’t want my comfort. He probably doesn’t want me here at all.  This is my fault, and if Andrew doesn’t recover, I will never forgive myself.

Brady

His tiny limp hand in my palm doesn’t feel right. There’s no life. The doctors say the prognosis is grim. I wish they would just have the balls to say it: “Your son is going to die.” That, I understand.

Nurses talk with each other about how lucky Andrew is that his bodily injuries weren’t more substantial. He has a broken arm, and some internal bruising, which should heal quickly if his brain recovers. That’s the problem. He’s not lucky. The trauma to his brain is significant. No one knows why he won’t wake up. There are no answers. It’s a waiting game to see if he pulls through or not. It’s torture.

My eyes burn. Tears fall, but I don’t feel them. My heart is empty.

I hear the door open, but I don’t turn around. I know it’s not her. I can tell by the footsteps.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you.”

I turn my head to Gabe and nod. He’s doesn’t need to check on me. I’m dead. He sits in a chair near the wall. His elbows rest on his knees with his hands folded.

“I saw Tori outside. Is everything okay with you two?”

“No.” I’m short with him. I don’t want to talk about her.

“Do you love her?”

What the fuck? I sigh and run my hands through my hair as I look at him. “She did something, and I don’t want to discuss it.”

He leans forward. “I didn’t ask you to. I asked if you love her?”

I turn my head and look at the tubes running out of Andrew’s nose and mouth. I want to hate her. I can’t forgive her, but I love her. “Yes.”

He’s quiet for several minutes. His eyes roam around the room. I can tell he wants to say something, but he’s searching for the words.

“I loved my girl, too. She was sick. We thought she had a cold. After a few days she made a doctor’s appointment. ” He shrugs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No big deal, right? They’ll give her antibiotics, and she’ll be fine.” I watch him intently, listening to his pain. “She and I had been through some things. We had an argument the day of her appointment.” He pauses and runs his thumbs under the bottom of his eyes. “Before she left, I told her I was done. While she was gone, I packed her stuff and put it in the front room before I left so I wouldn’t have to see her again.”

“Gabe…”

He shakes his head. “No, let me finish. She came home to tell me she was sick. She was scared. She needed me. Instead, she came home to a living room full of boxes. She was hurt — she refused to talk to me, and three weeks later she was gone.” I watch a tear streak down his face. “So before you decide you can’t forgive her, ask yourself if you want to live without her. We’re only here for a short time, man. Don’t waste it.”

I swallow so hard it hurts. “You don’t understand.”

He stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t have to.”  That’s all he says before he’s gone.

I look at Andrew, and all of my tightly wound emotions snap free. I’m shaking and crying. I look down at my son, my world, at a loss as to how to save him.

“You’ve got to wake up. Damn it. I’ll do anything.” I push myself up from the chair and cover his body with mine. “Oh, God, if you just wake up, I promise I won’t make her leave. We can be a family. Just wake up, damn it!”

But he doesn’t wake up.

He’s still and lifeless.

How can life be so cruel?

I can’t say goodbye to another child.

Chapter 29

Tori

It’s been three days. How am I going to get out of this bed and pretend I’m okay? I’m not, and I won’t be. Today is the day I’m supposed to say goodbye to a little boy that I love more than life itself.  Everyone says time will heal. I wish people would quit saying that. Nothing will ever be okay.

I’ll never heal.

There is a light tap on the door. I slide the envelope under my pillow. I received the paternity results the day after the accident. I haven’t had the courage to open the letter yet. I’m not sure which result would be harder for me to hear. If Brady’s the father, I’ll be raising a child with a man who wants absolutely nothing to do with me. If he’s not the father, I’ve truly lost every last piece of him.

I’m not ready to deal with either outcome.

There’s another knock, and I finally answer. “Come in.”

“It’s me.” Liv’s voice harbors all the tension I know she feels. As she enters, she flips on the light, and I recoil as pain shoots through my eyeballs. I cover them as I look up at her.

“Hey, sweetie.” Liv sits next to me on the bed, worry marring her brow. “It’s almost time. You need to get ready.”

“I don’t want to.” I start to cry. I can’t do this.

“I know,” Liv whispers as she wraps her arms around me. “But Brady needs you, even if he’s too damn stubborn to see it.”

He doesn’t want me there.  I’m not sure I’m strong enough.

“We need you there, too. You’re part of this family. Besides, Tug should be back soon with your parents, and if they see you like this, they’ll make you move back with them.”

I’d forgotten about my parents. They’re already certain I should pack my things and move back to Minn-e-fuckin-sota. I refused them. This place is all I have left of Andrew, and even if Brady hates my guts and I have to move out, I won’t go back to Minnesota.

Liv latches her arm underneath mine and starts lifting me up. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

“I’m sorry, Liv.”

She pulls me close. “No. Don’t you dare. This is not your fault.”

“It is. I’m so sorry. If I had only been honest with him from the beginning, none of this would be happening.”

“Tori Marie Hunter! Stop it, right now! You don’t know that. None of us blames you. It was a horrible accident.”

“Brady blames me.”

“Brady’s angry right now.”

I nod at Liv. I won’t convince her.

Once I’ve showered, I let Liv blow-dry my hair. Neither of us speaks. I hate this so much. I’ve caused Brady so much pain. First Mona, and now Andrew. I’m a curse. He doesn’t need me in his life. Maybe I should go back to Minnesota. He won’t move past this if he has to see me every day.

Liv sets the brush on the counter just as my mother pops her head in through the door. I sprint to her arms and squeeze her as hard as I can.

“Oh, sweetheart,” is all she says as she brushes the side of my head and holds me close to her chest. I had no idea how much I needed her until this moment.

“Liv, can I have a moment alone with Tori, please?”

“Of course.” She smiles compassionately at my mother and leaves us alone.

“I can’t do it, Mom.” The words come out in a painful scream.

Her lips smile, but her eyes are full of worry. “You can. It’s a tough decision to make, but you need to be strong for Brady. Did the two of you talk about it?”

“God, Mom. No. He can’t even look at me.”

She guides me to the bed and pulls me down to sit next to her. “I know this is hard, sweetheart, but that little boy deserves a good quality of life. I can’t imagine he would have that living out the remainder of his years dependent on a machine.”

“You’re right, but I’m not sure I can live out the remainder of mine without him.”

“I know it’s difficult to accept. I suggest that you and Brady listen to what the doctors have to say, and then do what your hearts tells you.”

“What would you do if it were me in that bed?”

“Oh, honey. That decision would be left to Brady. As your spouse, he would decide, just as your father would for me. But your father and I have made arrangements.”

“You have?”

She nods. “We didn’t want to worry about it, and we didn’t want it to fall on you if one of us is already gone. We have a ‘do not resuscitate’ order in our will.”

Brady and I don’t have a will. We’ve never discussed these types of things. God, what if something happened to both of us? What would happen to our baby? No matter what decision we make about Andrew, I’ll make sure my affairs are in order. As for today, I have no idea what Brady wants to do. He hasn’t said one word to me, and I don’t suspect today will be any different. The doctors have told both of us that the outlook is not good and that after seventy-two hours, if Andrew hasn’t woken up, we should consider the possibility of letting him go. I stayed at the hospital talking to him until Liv forced me to come home with her last night so I could sleep before Brady and I had to meet with the doctors. How can they ask us to make this decision? How can any parent let their child go? I can’t wrap my head around it.

My mom leans back on her hands and starts to speak, but stops. She pulls the envelope with the paternity results out from under my pillow.

“What is this?”

I try to snatch the envelope from her hand.

Her eyes work their way over the front of the envelope. “Genetic Diagnostic Centers?” Her concerned eyes meet mine. “Is the baby okay?”

I sigh and take the envelope from her hand. “Yes. It’s just some precautionary testing. I’m sure it’s fine, but I couldn’t open it until I got through this, in case it’s bad news.”

She nods as though she understands. Her expression is clearly skeptical, and I know if she pushes, I’ll cave. She doesn’t push.

The door to my room flies open, and a crying Liv comes barging into the room. Her tears don’t match with her smile. “He’s awake.”

I hear her, but I’m glued to my bed, relief holding me hostage.

“Did you hear me? Andrew’s awake.”

I finally jump from the bed and throw my arms around her neck as happy tears spill from my eyes. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, and we need to go to the hospital. He’s asking for you.”

“He is?”

“Yes, Brady said he won’t talk to anyone until he knows you’re there.”

My smile disintegrates. Andrew’s worried that I broke my promise. He thinks I left him.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“I need a minute, please,” I tell both my mom and Liv. “Wait for me in the car. I’ll be right down.”

They agree and leave me alone. I go to the bed and pick up the envelope. I have to know. My fingers shake as I slip them under the seal and tear it free. As I pull the letter out, my hands shake so badly that the letter flaps around. I can barely unfold it. I take a slow deep breath in before I look down and read who my baby’s father is.

The drive to the hospital seems to take forever. I spend most of it thanking the powers that be for bringing Andrew back to us. My father stops in front to let us out. Liv holds my hand as we walk inside. She stops at the corner of the hall leading to his room. “You go. I’m going to wait here with your mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I take the corner and walk the long hall to Andrew’s room. I knock once before slowly opening the door. Brady’s at his side. He turns to me with soft green eyes and a genuine smile. I’m taken aback. I’ve seen nothing but hatred in his eyes for three long days. Without a word, I look past him to where Andrew is resting. His eyes are closed. All the tubes that were keeping him alive have been removed. The only thing left is his IV.

“He woke up, and the first thing he said was, ‘I want my mom.’”

My eyes sting as a wave of uncertainty washes over me. I shouldn’t be here.

“When I told him I didn’t know where she was, he said she had been here.”

My head tilts in confusion as I try to follow along.

Brady swallows hard. “He said he heard her talking to him. He heard you.”

I gasp and reach up with my hand covering my mouth. I try to contain my tears, but they don’t stop. “I’m so sorry, Brady.” It’s all I can manage to say.

His mouth turns down. He gets up from the chair. As he passes, I reach out to grab his hand. He pulls away as though my touch burns him. “Andrew needs you, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

I blink, surprised by his blunt declaration. He keeps walking and slips out the door. Although my heart feels like it’s sliced in two, I rein in my tears, knowing I need to be strong for Andrew when he wakes up. I sit down next to him, holding his tiny hand in mine.