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The nurse stops near a sink and washes her hands. “It’s a sterile environment.” She nods toward a gown as she dries her hands on a towel, then drops it into a bin. “Please wash your hands and put on the gown.”
I copy her movements, and when we are done, she guides me to where Tobias is. There are four beds, each with a body in them and a nurses’ station in front of them.
“Before you touch him, please use the hand sanitizer.” She holds her hands under a machine, and gel drips out. “You need to do this every time you visit. Any infection would be catastrophic to him right now.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I gaze upon Tobias. Almost on autopilot, I hold my hands under the machine and rub the clear liquid into them. My boy is strong, proud, and full of life.
The body in front of me is motionless, connected to a labyrinth of machines and tubes. His face has a bandage around it, obscuring most of it from me. The tears which have been threatening to fall cascade down my cheeks. Reaching for him, I place his hand in mine, bending to place a kiss on the back of it.
The nurse, her voice soft and reassuring, leans in close and gently explains, “I know all this medical equipment can be overwhelming and frightening, but please remember that your son is in the right place to receive the best care possible. Our team is dedicated to ensuring he gets the attention and treatment he needs to recover.”
“Will he recover?”
“It’s best you talk to the doctor. Let me see if I can find her.”
She walks away, leaving me holding on to the only thing I’ve ever gotten right in my life.
“Jesus, Tobias, what did you get yourself into?” I whisper. There’s no flicker of movement, the machines continue to beep, and I feel helpless. “Cosmo says hi. One of the guys from the bar, Dean, is looking after him. You remember Dean, don’t you? He’s worked for me for a while. He’s looking after the bar too. Business is good.”
I know I’m rambling, and there’s no way to know if Tobias can even hear me, but I feel as though I have to talk to him. To pretend he isn’t hooked up to a bunch of machines and looking as though death is waiting to take him.
“Mrs. Mercer?” Turning, a woman in a white coat, wearing glasses, is standing at the foot of the bed. She has a chart in her hands and is reading it. “I’m Dr. Olivia Grills.”
“Yes, that’s me. I’m Tobias’ mother.”
She nods, and her eyes meet mine. She takes a deep breath before she begins, “I just wanted to talk to you about the surgery,” her voice is calm and laced with empathy. “We successfully removed the bullet from your son’s head. It was a delicate procedure, but everything went as planned. We took every precaution.”
I hold my breath, my eyes locked onto hers as I hang on to every word, a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness.
“He’s a fighter,” Dr. Grills continues, a hint of pride in her tone. “We’ll keep monitoring him closely, but I’m optimistic about his chances for a full recovery.”
Relief washes over me as I let out a shaky breath. “His eye?”
“Gone.” She puts down his chart. “He’ll need to wear a prosthetic or a patch. There was nothing we could do to save it.”
“Brain damage?”
“I’m optimistic, but we won’t know until he wakes up.”
Nodding, I look back at Tobias. “And how long will he be hooked up to these machines?”
“It’s early days. I’m going to keep him sedated for three more days.” I look at her sharply. “It’s merely to give him time to heal.” Dr. Grills presses her lips together. “The operation went well, but every patient is different. Your son is strong, and we are hopeful there will be no long-standing issues.”
“What sort of issues?”
She offers me a smile. “Let’s wait and see, shall we?”
Holding onto Tobias’ hand, I frown at the doctor. “No, we shan’t. Give it to me straight, Doc.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she says, “Unfortunately until Tobias wakes up, we won’t know. He could suffer from headaches. He’ll most certainly have to go into physical therapy to learn how to walk and maybe even talk again, but this is all guessing, and I’m not in the business of doing that. Right now, it’s a waiting game. When he wakes up, we’ll all know the extent of his injuries, but the brain is an extraordinary organ. I’ve seen people overcome some of the most difficult circumstances. Most take six months to recover, others with physical therapy months or years, but in rare cases, it’s as though nothing has happened. It’s all up to him.” Dr. Grills nods at Tobias. She reaches into her pocket and holds out a card. “This has my numbers on it. If you need to talk to me about Tobias, you call. If I don’t answer, leave a message. I could be in surgery or on rounds. Mrs. Mercer, I will call you back, but you need to be patient.”
“My name is Lore. Please call me Lore.” I take the card off her and hold it up. “Thank you.”
The doctor nods and walks away.
Staring back down at Tobias, I rub his hand between my own. “Okay, boy, you heard her. It’s all up to you. I have no idea how you ended up here, but I can assure you, I’m going to find out. No one messes with my son.”
Chapter Two
