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But I shouldn’t want to!
Why not?
I need to be focused here.
On what? Staring at the walls? Watching TV?
I have no idea what to say to her.
You’re putting walls up if you don’t say something.
His mom had taken to reading aloud whenever she was in the room, insisting their voices would encourage Matt to wake up. Noah tried it but felt stupid, and Mom had been gone long enough that the machines’ continuous beeping was drilling holes in his head.
Not a funny metaphor, considering what the surgeon had done to Matt.
Rereading the text, he again drafted replies in his head. That beeping was going to drive him crazy. It seemed, if anything, to be accelerating.
Accelerating?
Noah stood, scrutinizing the many monitors and wishing he understood what they meant.
A light rustling of bedsheets nearly gave Noah a heart attack.
“Matt?” he said, taking his brother’s hand. “I’m here, Matt.”
The beeping definitely sped up. Maybe it was monitoring heart rate. Noah’s own accelerated as he tried to decide what to do. He couldn’t reach the call button without letting go of Matt’s hand. His cell was in the pocket opposite his free hand. He eventually worked it out, only to drop it on the floor in his haste. How could he get help without leaving Matt?
Finally, a nurse came bustling in the door. “How’s it going in here?”
“I think he’s waking up!”
“I noticed his heart rate picking up,” she said. “Have you seen any movement?”
“I heard the sheets move but didn’t see anything.”
“Have you tried squeezing his hand? Maybe talking to him?”
Noah squeezed. “Hey, Matt. It’s Noah.”
Was it his imagination, or had Matt’s hand moved? He squeezed again, rewarded by a slight fluttering of his brother’s fingertips.
“He moved!”
“That’s great!” She took Matt’s other hand. “Was it strong?”
“Not really. More like a flicker.”
“Hmm,” she said noncommittally, donning the stethoscope slung around her neck and listening to Matt’s chest.
“What’s happening?” Mom’s voice sounded panicky as she entered the room.
“Come here.” Noah waved her to his side of the bed. “I think he might be waking up.”
“Oh!” she said, rushing over. Noah moved out of the way to let her in. “Matt, honey? Can you hear me?”
Noah shifted to the foot of the bed so he could see better, taking hold of Matt’s foot in a lame attempt to help without getting in the nurse’s way. Mom brushed her hand across Matt’s forehead, the way she’d always done when they were sick as children.
Matt’s eyes fluttered open, met his mother’s gaze, and slid shut again, leaving the ghost of a smile on his lips.
