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“That’s amazing. Is there anything you need from me? I’ve told Milo he’s welcome to hire someone to help if needed. I’m sure you’re short handed without Alden and Oliver.”
Smith nods and offers me a bottle of water from the mini fridge. “We’ve been discussing it. We could use another set of hands for the routine, basic stuff. I’ve inquired at the local community college. They have a motorcycle repair trade program. We may hire a new graduate.” He sighs and gives me a small smile. “No one can replace Alden. He was a damn artist with his work.”
“He adored it,” I agree. “Let me know if there are any issues or if you need anything.”
“I will. Right now, everything is under control.”
Checking up on the business isn’t my only reason for visiting. “Do you have a key to Oliver’s place?”
Not long after Alden moved in with me, Oliver took over the apartment above the shop. Smith excuses himself and returns with a key.
“Thanks. I thought it might be good for him to have some of his clothes, maybe a book or two he likes for when he’s more aware.”
“Comfort items,” Smith says with a nod. “That’s a good idea.”
“I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Take care of yourself, Ella. And you’ll have to join us for dinner soon. Harry has been eager to fire up his new grill.”
“That sounds fun. Tell him I said hi.”
Milo stops me and chats for a minute when I leave the breakroom, but he’s quickly called away by another customer. Smith wasn’t kidding. There are more bikes parked in the bays and outside than I think I’ve ever seen here at once. They’re busy.
Smith told me before that they’d given Oliver’s place a quick cleaning, throwing out the trash and food from his fridge so nothing would rot. Other than the empty fridge, the apartment looks like he could’ve just left. His shoes are lined neatly by the door, a book he was reading sits on the coffee table, the remote waits on the arm of the couch.
It’s hard to be in here, another space where I have memories of Alden. Part of me wants to linger, to let the ghost of his voice play in my ears. A brief smile finds my lips when I remember him saying he wanted to fuck me against the windows. We fulfilled that little fantasy more than once.
This isn’t what I’m here for.
Quickly, I gather a couple of changes of clothes from Oliver’s closet, and the book from the coffee table. After a moment of hesitation, I grab a framed picture of him and Alden standing in front of the Stokes Brothers sign. Maybe it’ll be too painful to have nearby once he understands what’s happened to his brother, but he can decide.
I lock the door behind me, and I’ve just climbed into my car when Tori calls.
Without the preamble of a hello, she blurts, “He’s awake! Oliver’s awake!”
I can’t even describe the emotions that wash over me. He’s going to make it. As horrible as all this is, something is going to go right. He’s going to be devastated. And he faces a long, arduous recovery, but there’s hope. Something to hold onto in all this grief.
“I’m on my way.”
“No, wait.” She pauses for a minute. “There’s no reason to come right now. They had to sedate him. He won’t wake again for a few hours.”
What? “They sedated him after waiting two months for him to wake up?”
“He wasn’t himself when he woke. He was fighting everyone, jerking the IV out, trying to get out of bed. Screaming. It was scary. Hang on.” My mind tries to wrap around those facts while I hear her blow her nose in the background before she continues. “Sorry. The doctor said that’s very common for someone gaining consciousness after a long period. He may have to wake up a few times before he doesn’t wake in a panic.”
“Was it because…did he know about Alden?” Logically, I know that isn’t likely. We were careful not to discuss him in Oliver’s room, but he could’ve known he was dead before he lost consciousness. Plus, he’s a twin. There’s an intuition involved.
“No, I don’t think so. I was in the cafeteria getting a coffee when he first woke, but a nurse was in the room. They got a doctor in there quickly, and he was fine with letting them examine him. They had me wait in the hall, but I could hear them. He asked where he was. All they told him was that he’s in the hospital and that he’ll be okay.”
Relief floods through me despite finding out he was so distressed. “He talked? He can talk?”
“Yes. His voice was croaky but his words were clear.”
“And he understood enough to answer their questions?” One of my biggest fears was that he’d wake with such significant brain damage that he’d have no ability to speak or comprehend.
“They weren’t really asking him questions. They were having him move his legs and arms, looking in his eyes, things like that. They told him he had a friend who was waiting to see him and then let me in.”
Her voice hitches. “Oh, Ella, he didn’t recognize me. I told him my name and took his hand. He kept staring at me like I might be there to hurt him. Then he jerked his hand away and started screaming and fighting. It was like someone flipped a switch. The nurse escorted me out of the room.”
