Whisper (14 page)

“He didn’t want anyone worried.”

“How big a deal is it?”

“The surgeon didn’t seem concerned. He said it happens sometimes, but didn’t want to wait even a few days. If the wrong nerves get compressed…he just said it wouldn’t be good.” She stood in the chilly surgical waiting room.

Others sat comfortably on the couches and chairs with a television spewing the latest news. She preferred to stand in the corner by the window overlooking the parking lot.

“I’m coming down. We just won’t tell him I’m there. I’ll wait with you.”

“The kids. School.”

“If he’s still there when school lets out, I’ll leave and pick them up.” What he said made sense.

“Whisper, are you all right?”

“Sure.”

“You sound shaky.”

“No. It surprised me. He seemed to be doing so well.”

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“Thirty minutes,” he said before hanging up.

Keith would remain semi-conscious while they fixed his leg. How could they expect to cut off the cast, cut into his leg and reposition a metal plate with him awake! He didn’t bat an eye when they told him. He’d said, “Let’s get it taken care of. Ready when you are.”

She knew the color left her face, and right in front of the doctor, he pulled her close. While he sat on the exam table, getting ready to go for surgery, he wrapped her in his arms to offer comfort. He should’ve needed the reassurance. She’d been a burden when she should’ve been strong.

Nothing good ever came from visiting a hospital.

Her grandparents both died in a hospital. Even though her mother had basically died at home, they’d rushed her fifty-six miles to the nearest emergency room to pronounce her dead after a sixty second examination. Her father had been rushed to an emergency room multiple times followed by days of recovery. The last time she’d gone with him, she’d been forced to sit in a holding area until a sad looking doctor hesitantly talked to her. Her father died that day.

Staring out into the overcast, gloomy day, the fat, puffy flakes of snow reminded her of the stark white sheets they put on hospital beds. They always smelled of bleach. Why couldn’t they use a little fabric softener, or better scented antiseptic? She hated hospitals! Unconsciously, she raised the sleeve of her sweater and began scratching the crease of her arm. Soon, she did the same to her other arm.

The backs of her hands started itching along with her palms. She stood there staring, scratching and remembering.

When someone tapped her shoulder, she saw Mark’s reflection in the glass. She glanced down at her watch when he said, “Sorry it took so long. The 114

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roads are getting dicey.”

She turned to greet him. He didn’t look very happy. “What’s going on, Whisper? You told me he’d be fine.”

“He will.”

“You look scared to death!”

“Sorry. No. Just hospitals in general.”

“I would’ve taken off to bring him down. You should’ve said something.”

“He wouldn’t let you miss work. He was going to drive himself.” He tried to place his hand over hers, and she backed into the window. She’d startled him with the quick retreat.
Get a grip.
“Sorry, like I said.

Hospitals.”

“Jesus, your arms!”

She looked and found lines of blood surfacing under the bumps on her skin. “Disgusting, huh? I get hives when I get nervous. A childhood thing I never outgrew. People back home thought I had leprosy or something.”

“What can I do?”

She still carried the antihistamine and started digging through her purse. “Water?”

“I’ll get it. Sit down, would you? I’ll be right back.”

A few hours passed in the cold waiting room before the surgeon approached. She and Mark stood.

She introduced Mark and they shook hands.

“How did it go?” Mark asked.

“Fine. Everything’s where it should be now. We put him in a walking cast. There’re different approaches to a leg broken as badly as Keith’s, but I’ve seen some remarkable recoveries. I’m confident that weight bearing with crutches at this point, could only help. He’ll probably have to cope with some additional pain though.”

“How long until he’s ready to leave?”

“We’ll keep him overnight. We started off with a 115

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local anesthesia. When we got going, we found more damage than I initially anticipated. I figured he’d been through enough, so we put him out. He’ll be in recovery for a while and then we’ll get him into a room. While we had him comfortable, I removed the sutures in his back. They should’ve come out a week ago.” Whisper sat there numb and worried, scratching the inside of her arm while Mark asked questions.

“How long until the cast comes off?”

“Probably ten weeks. More or less depending on his progress. Then we can start physical therapy and see how he does.”

“So he’ll be fine in a few months,” Mark said, obviously relieved.

“He’s a big, strong guy. We got his records from the hospital in Texas. They did great work down there. Makes my job a whole lot easier when the first surgeon knows what he’s doing. Once he’s healed enough, we’ll go in and straighten out the rest.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’ll probably need additional surgery. He didn’t tell you?”

Mark looked stricken so she took her turn and filled the silence. “No. Could you please explain?”

“Like I’ve said, the first surgeon was excellent and really did a lot of repair. With how bad it was though, it may take another surgery, if not a few, to give him real use of the leg. He’s too young to settle for half measures. With enough time, patience and physical therapy, we’re hoping one day he’ll be able to walk normally.”

“How long are you talking?” Mark asked. “How long from now will it take until he can get around without the crutches?”

“We’ll assess him and move him from the crutches to something more comfortable as soon as he’s ready. He’ll probably use a cane for a while. I’d 116

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say, given his age and physical condition, probably no more than a year before he’s in really good shape.

That’s a great prognosis. He’s lucky to have the leg at all considering the amount of damage.”

“Thank you very much for everything. We really appreciate it.”

The doctor stood and Whisper did as well. Mark sat on the light green sofa with his forearms resting on his thighs, his head hung. The doctor shook her hand and smiled sympathetically at Mark. “Get something to eat and relax. It’ll be a few hours before he gets a room. We’ll come find you. All right?”

“Yes, and thank you again.”

When the doctor left, Whisper sat next to Mark.

He’d been devastated by the news. She wanted to console him, but he wasn’t a child. Touching his back, stroking him gently, she frowned when his face fell into his hands.

“He didn’t say a word. None of us knew how bad it was,” he said.

“You know now, and you’ll be there for him.”

“He needs more surgeries. He won’t walk right.

God, Whisper, this will kill him.”

“He’s strong. He’ll be fine. It’ll just take some time.” She didn’t know what else to say. She had no business saying anything.

“Why?”

“What, Mark?”

“Why didn’t he tell me? Did he figure he could just hide all this shit? Didn’t he trust me enough to help?”

“No,” she said, stroking his hair. She didn’t know Keith well, so she talked about herself instead.

She knew why she would’ve kept hurtful things from Heather, and in fact, why she’d done so previously.

“He didn’t tell you he almost lost his leg because it didn’t happen. You didn’t need to go through that.

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That’s why he simply came home as quickly as possible. He wanted you to know he’d be fine.”

“But he’s—crippled.”

“For now. The doctor said he’s young and strong and they’re hopeful he’ll recover. A terrible thing happened. He’s not dwelling on it, and you shouldn’t, either.” A thought occurred and she voiced it. “Are you worried about money?”

“Hell, no. We’re fine. He made sure of it.”

“He’ll recover. You have enough money. Let it end there. Don’t worry.”

He rubbed his eyes with fists. “He’s my brother.

He was doing three times the work of any of us. He stepped in when Mom left and never bitched. Billy wasn’t even a year old. He traded his motorcycle and Corvette for that stupid Ford so a baby seat would work and we’d all fit.”

“I bet he didn’t mind.”

“He worked crazy shifts and weekends so we’d have enough to keep us going. And this is how he gets paid back.”

She rubbed his back again before placing her arm around him. She held him and leaned over, resting the side of her face against his shoulder.

“When you love someone, Mark, you don’t think about motorcycles or cars or working too much. You focus on the people you love and if you can provide, you do, however you need to.”

He sat straight, took her hand in his and leaned back. Flattening his palm against hers, he traced the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Is that why you work at Ruby Red?”

“Why else would I be there?”

He chuckled. “You’re an exhibitionist?”

“I think you know me well enough to know that club isn’t a goal or aspiration for me. We need the money, and I’m glad I can make it.”

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kid.” “I know. I pray every single night she never finds out. I don’t think I could live with the shame.”

“Then quit.” He turned toward her. “It’s not safe there, so just stop going in.” She pulled away and her heart started pounding. “You won’t tell her, will you?” His hands captured hers and squeezed. He didn’t utter a sound until she looked up. “I’d never do that, Whisper. I swear. Me and Nomad are the only ones who know. But your working there bothers me. You don’t belong in that type of place. The guys that go in there…”

“Throw their money away on fantasy. They don’t touch me in any way. Not physically, not emotionally.”

“It has to affect you, hurt you. The comments alone from the drunks would have to be terrible.”

“Stop.” she said. She could be strong when she needed to be. “It’d take a lot more than a few drunks shooting off their mouths to hurt me. I’ve had one hell of an education on mouthy, drunk men.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. Quit worrying so much.

Let’s get back to that brother of yours. He didn’t die, he kept his leg, and he’ll be home for a while. Maybe he’s just happy things aren’t worse. He’s a pretty tough man, you know.”

“Whisper?” Mark asked. She waited as he brought words together. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Mark.”

****

The hospital personnel didn’t mind all of them 119

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sitting quietly. Keith stirred once, opened his eyes, saw the kids and said, “Hey, guys.”

“You okay, Keith?” Billy asked.

“You bet. They fixed me up.” He mumbled most of the words before drifting off.

Whisper already called off work, figuring she and Heather would stay at the house. Mark seemed keyed up and paced a lot during the hours of waiting. Nine at night, Mark grabbed his coat and gestured for Heather, Billy and Corey to do the same. He asked, “Are you all right being here?”

“Sure.” The initial hospital jitters left and she’d gotten comfortable in a chair.

“How about if I take the kids home, get them situated, and come back so you can leave.” Mark didn’t want Keith left alone. The longer Keith slept, the more anxious Mark got. The nervous habit of cracking his knuckles became unbearable.

“I’ll stay.”

“You scratched yourself raw earlier.”

“I don’t itch now; you’ll break your fingers if you stay any longer. You promise me you’ll look after Heather, and I’ll plant myself right here. I have my cell if you need me. Go home and get some sleep.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Make the kids do homework and get them to bed soon. I’ll give a call in the morning and let you know how he’s doing.”

“You’ll spend the night?”

“I won’t leave him. If he wakes up and starts jabbering before midnight, you’ll see me at the house.”

Mark stared, wanting or needing to say something. She spoke for him. “Really, I swear I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” In truth, the thought of leaving him alone with strangers, made her stomach 120

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hurt and head throb.

She gave Heather and Billy hugs before they quietly left. The automatic blood pressure cuff swelled on Keith’s arm as she sat back down on the chair. She pushed the sleeve of her sweater up and rubbed the bumpy, damaged skin. The nurse came in and noticed her arm. Quietly she asked, “What happened!”

“Hives,” Whisper replied.

“Allergy?”

“Yes, to hospitals.”

The nurse smiled. “That sweater’s probably irritating it. I can get you a scrub top and some calamine lotion. Looks like you’re staying a while.

Want to get comfortable?”

It didn’t require much thought at all. “Yes, thank you.”

The nurse left and came back in record time.

Whisper used the private bathroom to change shirts.

When she came out, the nice young woman slathered the insides of her forearms and backs of her hands with the lotion. The burning ceased and she once again expressed her gratitude.

“Anything else I can get you?” the nurse asked.

“No, thank you though.”

After sitting for a while in the chair, she reclined and curled her legs on the seat. Used to sleeping lightly, she dozed off listening for any unusual sound.

Sometime later, she jerked. She found the same nurse covering her with a blanket. Keith continued to sleep. It was after one in the morning.

“He woke a little while ago and had some juice,” the nurse whispered. “He saw you over here and nodded right back off. The poor guy’s wiped out.”

“He’s all right then?”