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LUNA
Stiff, all-over pain is what my body registers before my eyes even open. My body feels like cold, rusted metal, but I’ll take this kind of pain over the kind from when I was in the E.R., the kind that made me feel like I was being ripped apart by a pack of wolves.
I blink and roll my head to the side and reach up to rub at my eyes when I realize there’s an annoyingly awkward splint on my right hand – my dominant hand of course. Sighing, I drop it on the mattress beside me with my left hand.
At least I can still wear my wedding rings, I think, which triggers a jolt of panic to strike me in the middle of my chest as I place my hand to my chest, feeling around for my necklace with my rings, hoping they’re resting against my skin under my hospital gown. No dice. Where are they?
With a shaky left hand, I reach for the remote that lies in the bed next to me, attached to a long, thick cord and hit the call button that summons a nurse.
Within a minute, an older woman in navy scrubs is in the doorway. “Hey, you’re awake,” she cheerfully congratulates me as she moseys in. “How are you feeling?”
“Do you know where my things are?” I ask, dodging her question. I don’t mean to be rude but I’m inwardly panicking, and its worse torture than the pain. “My necklace? With my wedding rings?” My voice is serrated by my erratic breathing, and the nurse holds a calming hand up.
“Yes, honey, we have all your things right here.” She opens a cupboard to the left of my bed. “We have a personal safe in every room for patient belongings. Your rings and your cell phone are right in here, do you want them?”
“Yes, please.” I nod vigorously in relief and she hands me a clear baggy with my rings on the chain, and another that contains my cell phone that has a cracked, lifeless screen.
Shit. I was hoping to turn it on and message Kaleb ASAP. I haven’t messaged him since… when? Was it yesterday morning? The night before?
“What day is it?” I ask the nurse as I slide my wedding band onto my left ring finger. Fortunately, it’s only the last two fingers of my hand that are broken, so I still have some dexterity.
“It’s Friday afternoon,” she tells me, watching me slide my engagement ring down over the top of the band. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your husband?”
That word still seems so foreign. We’ve been married for over five months, but we’ve hardly been together during that time. It doesn’t change how I feel though. I love him. I love him so much and I miss him desperately right now. How I wish he were here and could crawl in this bed with me and hold me.
“I’m sure,” I breathe out, wincing as I shift in the bed and take my phone out of the baggy and try to power it on. Dead as a doornail. “But I’ll get ahold of him if I can get a phone charger?” I lift my phone up to indicate.
She nods warmly. “Actually, when I called your father earlier, I told him that’s one of the best things to bring in. Nobody expects to be here, and therefore don’t have those kinds of things with them. But I guess he knew that, being a doctor himself.”
I nod. I can just barely remember one of the times they woke me up last night to do neuro checks. It’s fuzzy, but I’d been asked for the umpteenth time if I wanted anyone to call Kaleb. Finally, I decided I wanted someone. I’m going to tell Kaleb this one day, when he’s not going through hell, but even then he’s going to be horrified – and it will be even worse if he found out I went through this completely alone.
I was almost as hesitant to call for my dad, afraid this would bring back memories for him. A certain tragedy from his life before me and my mom, and I don’t want to give him another similar experience in his life. But on the opposite side of that same coin, he knows a lot about trauma.
So I finally conceded to the staff calling him, but with specific instructions.
“Did you use my maiden name when you called him?” I ask, and she nods again.
“Yes, sweetheart, I said Isaak.”
“Thank you.” I wince again. My ribcage feels like it’s going to break open if I so much as sneeze. When I was taken off sedation last night, the doctor surveyed the damage with me. Three broken ribs on the left side, a slight concussion, a bruised kidney, and the broken fingers. As for the nurse using my maiden name with my dad… I know I’m going to have to tell him now, even though I really wanted to wait until Kaleb came home, but I really didn’t want him to find out through some stranger over the phone. “Is he coming?”
“Yes, he is,” she assures me. “He should be here soon.”
In the next half hour, Bonnie – my nurse, helps me go to the bathroom. I can’t tell you how glamorous it is to pee on a bedside commode with someone standing by, but she wanted to start with baby steps to see what I could handle. My legs are surprisingly okay, save for some bruising and a sprained knee, but it’s crazy what little movements hurt my ribs.
She attentively changes my gown and my bandages when she helps me get back into bed, and she’s just pulling the covers back over me when my dad, looking disheveled as all hell in a wrinkled button-down over his joggers and his brown hair completely mussed arrives in the door.
The relief that washes over me like a tsunami immediately brings tears to my eyes, and I let go of every shred of strength I’ve been carrying.
“Dad,” I sob as he rushes over to me. I grip onto his shoulder with my good hand as he cradles my head and drops a kiss to the top of it. I don’t know which one of us is more relieved to see the other as he rocks me slightly.
“It’s okay, kiddo… I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”
* * *
“Carter fucking Lange,”my dad grinds out between clenched teeth as he paces my hospital room in front of the uniformed cop that’s jotting things down on his pocket-sized notepad. “He’s been harassing her for over a year, and he violated a court order showing up at her apartment! He did this,” he continues growling, resting his hands on his hips as he continues to pace.
I sit back in my bed, trying my best to stay calm, but also leave my dad to let loose. In a way, I feel like I’m doing something for Kaleb by proxy. When I do tell him all of what happened, I’m hoping he’ll take a small piece of solace knowing I let my father go apeshit in his stead.
