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Carl huffed, irritated like my ignorance was an act. “They won’t speak to me. Only you. So, you fucking tell me,” he sneered.
Ah. The light bulb went off. Over the past few months, I had subtly hinted that I had no qualms about replacing Carl if his unsavory behavior persisted. Apparently the prospect of me finally growing a spine and following through on my threats wasn’t something he took lightly. I stored that kernel of information away for later scrutiny and flashed a smile at him, determined not to let him see that his intimidation tactics still affected me. “I see,” I replied, adding a patronizing wave of my hand to prove he no longer held any power over me. “You’re excused.”
I relished the shade of eggplant that painted his cheeks as he mouthed, “Two minutes,” and stormed from the room. However, as always, my anxiety-ridden brain seized the opportunity to take control. I began spiraling, panicking and conjuring the worst possible scenarios. Had something happened to Willy? But no, Carl claimed he didn’t know what was happening, so if it were something to do with Willy, he would have just said so. My breaths started coming in short pants, and I could feel the onset of a panic attack creeping in.
Before my brain could talk me out of it, I took a deep breath and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I croaked.
“Hello, is this Mr. Colton Ray?” a gravelly tone inquired.
“Y-Yes. Um, who is this?” I stammered, my voice shaky and barely comprehensible.
“This is Dr. Turnbull. I’m a surgeon at Redford West Memorial Hospital. We have you listed as the next of kin for Grayson Scott. Is that correct?”
“Sor-sorry, did you just say Grayson Scott?” I asked in disbelief.
The mere utterance of that name, unspoken for over seven years, brought me to my knees. Memories rushed back at such a dizzying speed that I felt overwhelmed all over again.
“Yes, I did. I’m calling because you’re listed as his next of kin, Mr. Ray,” he confirmed.
Panic surged back in full force. I seriously doubted doctors from butt fuck nowhere just dialed people thousands of miles away to report a sprained ankle. I needed reassurance that Gray was okay. My shattered heart could only bear so much pain, and I was already falling apart, envisioning the worst. I registered the doctor was still talking, but my brain couldn’t seem to comprehend a single word he uttered.
“Mr. Ray, I know this is probably coming as a bit of a shock right now. But I really need you to listen to me. Time. Is. Of. The. Essence. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, willing my mind to focus. There would be time to fall apart later.
“Now, as I said before, Mr. Scott was involved in a motor vehicle accident earlier this evening and was brought into our ER with a severe concussion, blood loss and some broken ribs. We’ve given him a blood transfusion and he is currently in a medically induced coma so that we can keep him stable and allow for his brain swelling to go down. The good news is that those injuries, while serious, are manageable. Our bigger concern right now is that a large portion of his femur and patella on his right leg were shattered on impact. Given the injury, his leg isn’t getting any blood flow right now. Since we are unable to wake Mr. Scott, as his medical power of attorney, we are going to need you to make a decision and consent to his treatment. Is it possible for you to get to the hospital in the next hour for us to discuss this in person?”
A mixture of shock and adrenaline running through my veins allowed me to respond to Dr. Whatever his name was much more calmly than I felt. “No, I’m in Las Vegas at the moment. Ah, I don’t even know why Gray listed me as his emergency contact. We haven't spoken in over seven years!”
“Okay, be that as it may, all his paperwork was updated less than six months ago, so there must be a reason he chose you, even if it was purely because he doesn’t have anyone else. Legally speaking, things are much simpler if you are the one to sign off on his treatment. Quite frankly, there isn’t time to be jumping through hoops with lawyers and if we have to go down that route, there won’t be much of a decision to make.”
“Okay. Um, can’t you just tell me what needs to be done, and I say that it’s okay?”
“In a typical case, yes. I will give you my professional recommendation, but unfortunately this is a case of needing to best understand our patient’s wishes, which we cannot do at the moment with him sedated. We require you to make the decision.”
“Right, so what are the options?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“It is possible for us to go in and repair as much of the leg as we can. The procedure would be long, difficult and the success of it hinges on what we find when we get in there. Recovery would be very long and painful, and given how much nerve damage he has incurred, he will most likely have persistent pain for the rest of his life. But, he would get to keep his leg. The other option is amputation almost to the hip. While it is also a major procedure, the outcome is much easier to predict and with extensive physiotherapy and prosthetics, it is likely he would be able to learn to walk again. However, many people struggle a lot more with the mental recovery of losing a limb, which can impede their recovery. In my professional opinion, I recommend we amputate. I understand this is a difficult decision and I do apologize,” he finished with what sounded like rehearsed sympathy.
What the actual fuck, Gray? It seemed unfathomable that he picked me of all people to make this decision. Sure, at one time in our lives, we may have shared as much as it was possible for two people to share. But we were practically kids back then. I had no idea who he was now or how this decision would impact his life. Hell, I didn’t even have a clue whether he had the insurance to cover the cost of the surgery and recovery. Then there was the extensive rehab he was going to need, regardless of the decision. He needed someone to take care of him and help him adjust to his new life. Was Remy still around? I could have called Kingston and asked, but I knew he hadn’t remained as close with the rest of the group—hence the reason he was the only one from back then who still spoke to me.
I couldn’t possibly be expected to make such a life-changing decision with so many variables still up in the air. Regardless of how we left things between us, I’d do anything in my power to make Gray happy. Probably because I still loved him more than was healthy.
“You need to save his leg. Do the surgery. Do everything you can to save it. He won’t cope if he wakes up without it. I’ll be there as soon as I can get my jet fueled up,” I managed to croak.
“Alright, I’ll discuss things further with my team before we make a final plan, but we’ll do our best. Get some more imaging just to be certain. Please remember, there aren’t any guarantees with the surgery. I’ll get one of our nurses to keep you updated until your arrival. Have a good evening, sir,” he said before ending the call without asking me if I had any further questions. Not that I did, but still. Was it odd, though, that I found his lack of social skills strangely comforting? Super smart people are supposed to be socially inept, right? Having a super smart surgeon operating on the most important person in your world was definitely preferable to having a nice one that didn’t know what they were doing.
The absurdity of the last few minutes was finally starting to hit me. First, I was overtaken with hysterical laughter, for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand since the moment was anything but funny. Then, just as quickly as it began, the laughter morphed into full-body sobs. I sank to my knees and let the pain wash over me. Gray’s current situation was at the forefront, with guilt gnawing at my stomach over whether I’d made the right call. However, my tears were also for me, and us, and everything that had been lost. My biggest wish for longer than I remembered was always to work things out with Gray one day. I’d fantasized about him showing up on my doorstep and making a reappearance in my life.
I fantasized about opening the front door of my home and looking up into those unforgettable blue eyes and dimpled smile. He’d show up with flowers, or Brenda’s cookies as a peace offering before getting on his knees and begging to be my white knight once more.
Now he had made a reappearance, and it was already my worst nightmare. Gray was out there somewhere, in pain… in a fucking coma, and here I was, uselessly sobbing on a concrete floor.
Carl found me like that: a heaped, trembling mess of tears and snot, curled up on the floor. In an uncharacteristic reaction, he didn’t say anything straight away. Instead he sat down next to me and started patting my back in what I assumed was meant to be a soothing gesture. He didn’t totally pull it off, but I guess I appreciated the thought. Eventually, I calmed down enough to think somewhat clearly. Time was ticking and I was sitting here having a fucking pity party like I was the one about to lose my leg. Logistics needed to be worked out now; my breakdown could wait.
“I need to take the jet to St. Louis as soon as possible,” I informed Carl.
Carl immediately stopped rubbing my back to slowly walk around my body until we were face to face, and leveled me with his famous glare. Clearly irritated that I’d even suggest deviating from my carefully planned tour schedule.
