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“Would you like to come see him now?” Dr. Hoffman asked, motioning with one hand.
“Yes,” Mom said, jumping at the opportunity. “Can we both come?”
“Of course.”
Mom and Noah followed the doctor into Matt’s room. The beeping grew louder, more penetrating. Deep breathing only drew the antiseptic smell farther into Noah’s lungs, tightening the knot in his throat. He’d handled all sorts of bleeding wounds as a lifeguard with no problem, but the confines and smells of the hospital unnerved him.
Mom went immediately to Matt’s side, taking his hand in one of hers and stroking his arm with the other. “Matthew, honey, it’s Mama. Noah is here too, and we want you to know we love you. You’re going to get better, and we’re going to stay right here by your side until you do.”
She continued to talk to him, coercing Noah into a brief greeting of his own, after which he settled into the corner chair.
Eventually, his stomach growled loudly enough—along with the nurse’s assurance that Matt would be well looked after—to convince his mom to take a food break. The cafeteria had a breakfast burrito that wasn’t terrible, but it made him miss the fresh salsa he’d enjoyed only yesterday in Mexico. He finished quickly, then felt guilty for eating as his mom pushed her food around her plate.
“Mom? You have to eat something.”
“Hmm? Oh. I’m not really hungry. How was your trip?” she asked, still staring at her plate.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Noah said, running his hands through his nasty hair.
His mom flinched and looked up, hurt.
“But Iwill”—he softened his words with a smile—“if you’ll eat.”
His very selective trip report distracted her enough to get a few bites in, but eventually she put her fork down and refused to eat any more.
“I need to get back up there,” she said.
Noah nodded, dreading more hours in the tiny, beeping room.
“Why don’t you go to his place and get cleaned up.”
Noah huffed. “Do I smell that bad?”
Her mouth curved, though her eyes remained tired and sad. “I think you could use a break.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, patting his arm. “Once you’re cleaned up, you can sit with Matt and I’ll take a break. It’s more important that we don’t leavehimalone.”
As much as Noah hated to leave his mom, he was thankful to escape for a while. She promised to call if there were any changes, giving him the keys to her car and Matt’s apartment. He pocketed the keys and threw his duffel over his shoulder, then gave her another hug on his way out.
Dr. Hoffman was at the nurse’s station and spotted him as he was leaving. “Hey, it’s Noah, right?” she said, handing some orders to a nurse. She leaned back against the high countertop on one elbow, more relaxed than she had been earlier. “How are you doing?”
“Going to get cleaned up.”
She smiled knowingly. “It gets a little rough hanging out here. I’m glad you’re taking some time for yourself.” With that, she pushed off and started away, but Noah wasn’t ready for her to leave.
“Hey, uh,” he said, “you didn’t really answer my question about Matt’s recovery.”
Dr. Hoffman’s eyes strayed to the windows of Matt’s room, where his mom could be seen keeping vigil. “Let’s walk.” She gestured for him to lead the way, so he headed for the waiting room. “As I told you earlier, recovery from a brain injury is very difficult to predict. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I also don’t want to discourage you.”
Noah dug his hands into his pockets. “I understand, and for my mom, it’s probably best she doesn’t know more than she asks. But I’d appreciate it if you’d give it to me straight.”
Her brows furrowed, revealing not-yet-permanent lines of worry as she surveyed the empty waiting room. “I don’t know how things will go with Matt. He could make a full recovery, but right now, it doesn’t look great. His numbers haven’t changed much since he came out of surgery.”
“What does that mean? Mom said there was a chance he won’t wake up, but if the surgery went well...”
“It was successful, but yes, he might not wake up. Or he might recover fully or something in between.”
