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Did she mean that he was… just not going to wake up? Was the damagethatextensive?
Something about her stilted language, though, told me she wasn’t going to give me more information than that, instead making me wait to talk to the doctor.
It really wasn’t my business anyway, so I wasn’t going to press for details.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
I knew there were a lot of people who said that if someone is unconscious or in a coma, they didn’t actually hear anything you said. But I wanted to talk to him anyway. Even if all it did was makemefeel better.
“Of course,” she said before taking me through the process of getting into a gown and a mask before finally letting me into Kylo’s room.
The room itself was small and dominated with Kylo’s bed. And the scattered equipment all around him. Behind the bed were two stands each holding several IV bags, dripping fluids and medications into his eerily still body.
Kylo himself looked different in his blue and white hospital gown, the white bedding seeming to wash him out. Or, more likely, that was the blood loss.
Whatever it was, he still looked ashen, which made his dark tattoos stand out all the more.
Other than his pallor, though, he didn’t seem that hurt, considering.
But that was just because his injuries were below the blankets, hidden from view. God only knew what things looked like under there.
The room was silent, save for the soft beep from his monitor, and my footsteps sounded entirely too loud as I made my way to the side of the bed.
“See?” I said, feeling weird talking to someone who wasn’t conscious, but figuring that if there was even the slightest chance that he could hear me, it might be nice for him to hear a familiar voice. “I told you that you were going to make it,” I said, already feeling the sting at the backs of my eyes, the choked up feeling rising in my throat.
I could feel the nurse’s gaze on me, but she said nothing as she checked his fluids and monitors before silently making her way back out, sliding the big plexiglass door as she went.
“The nurse said you haven’t woken up yet. But when you do, do me a favor and tell them that I’m your sister, okay? Because I sort of lied to get in here,” I said. “And I’d really prefer not getting in trouble for that. Can you get in trouble for that?” I asked. “I don’t usually lie, so I’m not sure about the consequences.”
I’d always been what my peers had called a ‘goody-goody’ growing up. Always following the instructions, never stepping a toe out of line. Always afraid of getting in trouble, of being called down to the principal’s office, of being lectured when I got home.
I mean, my mom was the queen of the lectures no matter how well I behaved. In her mind, I could always be doing better than I was. If my grades were good—and they always were—I could have been trying harder to do extracurriculars. Joining clubs. Getting the “right” summer jobs where I could make “connections” to give my future a “leg up.”
In retrospect, I was pretty sure every single dinner growing up included a lecture about how I wasn’t living up to my potential.
She would be horrified if she knew what I was doing for work now.
Which was why I was not going to tell her.
Just plug away at it, saving money, and investing some of it in some sort of other vocation.
The problem was, I was having trouble figuring out what I wanted to “do with” my life still. Especially seeing as I didn’t like to be out of my apartment unless I absolutely had to be.
“I was going to bring you flowers or a donut bouquet or something, but I guess that is going to have to wait until you wake up,” I said. “I get you probably need your sleep after all that, but… but I really hope you wake up soon.”
I sat down on the chair near the bed, watching his vitals as I fought for things to say.
I mean, it wasn’t like I had a lot to share with him. I barely knew him.
So I settled on talking about Frida for a while, seeing as she was kind of our mutual shared interest. I regaled him with the story of the first time I learned she was terrified of the beep the microwave made when she was a puppy, and how I spent months trying to rush to it and catch it before the beep started, to save her from freaking out.
And how she’d first encountered a small breed dog. Who promptly sounded like he trash-talked Frida from a block away. By the time they got close, she was cowering behind me, whimpering as the little dog continued to bark and snarl at her up close.
“Speaking of Frida,” I said later. “I have to get back to take her on a walk again,” I told him. “But I am going to check on you again tomorrow, okay? And maybe ask the nurse to call meif you wake up. I hope you don’t mind,” I added, voice small, as if the very busy nurses were eavesdropping on our conversation like they didn’t have better things to do.
“You get better, okay?” I said, patting his arm as I rose.
I made my way back out to the nurse’s station, giving them my number to contact me if Kylo woke up, then made my way back down the elevator, feeling shaky enough that I was glad for the heat that slapped me in the face as I stepped outside.
