"Time to wake up, boy."
"Huh? Where am I?" I asked myself. I was in a bed, but it wasn't mine. Lights shining down from above me kept passing by. I realized I was drifting down a hallway. I tried to orient myself to my surroundings. Everything was happening in slow motion. There was a constant steady beeping noise and people kept looking at me and walking away before I could ask them anything.
I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. My body just wasn't doing anything I wanted it to do. I couldn't feel anything. My whole existence was numb. The light was incredibly bright and hurt my eyes. "Maybe I've died?" I thought to myself. "This isn't so bad."
"Are you awake?" A woman stood next to me, jarring me from my blissful slumber. I'd never met her before. I figured she was an angel. I tried to speak, but couldn't. So I just nodded.
"Here, let me get this mask off," she said. Only then did I realize I was wearing one of those oxygen mask things. She removed it and wiped my nose and mouth with a tissue. I still wasn't sure exactly what was going on.
"I'll go get your mother," the woman said. I was so confused. My mother? What was she doing here? Had she died too? What was happening to me?
I was beginning to feel my body again. Everything was beginning to become normal. I could feel a slight pinch in my right hand. I still couldn't move to see what was pinching me. I couldn't feel my left arm at all.
My mom walked into the room and sat beside my bed. I was beginning to get a feel for my surroundings. I realized that I was in a hospital recovery room with a curtain on either side of me. But what in the world had happened to me? The last thing I remembered was... I couldn't remember the last thing I remembered! Something about glass and blood and somebody laughing.
"What happened?" I asked aloud.
Mom leaned close to me and sighed in relief. "Oh thank God! You had me worried sick!"
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You just got out of surgery. You're in the recovery room."
"Why?" I asked.
"You broke your hand, Billy. Badly. They had to put some pins in your hand to put some of the bones back together. You're going to be in a cast for a while until everything heals. After that, who knows if you'll ever be able to use it like you did before."
"How?"
"You tell me. Dustin says you punched the bathroom mirror."
"Dustin said that? I... I can't remember," I replied.
"Well maybe you'll remember more in the morning. Right now you're probably too spaced out from the anesthesia," mom said. She brushed my hair back with her hand and kissed me on the forehead. "I'm going to let you rest now."
Before she could leave I asked, "Is dad okay?"
Mom sighed again. "I don't know, Billy. We're praying for both of you."
I fell asleep soon after that. Everything that happened after that was a blur. I got moved to a room and I slept a lot. People kept checking on me and making sure I was okay. It wasn't until morning when I finally woke up and felt like I was really me again.
I sat up as best as I could. It was only then that I realized both my arms were strapped to the bed. I figured they didn't want me to move too much. My right hand was sore from where they put the IV in. My left arm was still totally numb. It was wrapped in ice packs all the way from my hand to my shoulder, so I couldn't see what they'd done to it. I couldn't move at all.
Nurses kept checking on me every half hour or so. I was in a room with some other kid who didn't have much to say. A doctor came in and released my right arm, but kept my left arm tied down. They brought us breakfast, and I had a tough time trying to feed myself with my right hand. Having my arm in a cast was definitely going to make things difficult.
It was about eleven o'clock when the doctor came in to check on me again. He explained all of the surgical things they'd done to me. He removed the ice packs and to my horror I was in a cast from my fingers past my immovable elbow to half way up my upper arm. In about ten days or so, he explained, I would have to come back for more work. First they would take the cast off. Then they would take a few x-rays and decide when they would take the pins out of my hand. I had also messed up a few ligaments and tendons as well so they would want to check to see how those were healing. When all that was over, they would give me a new cast that would allow me to bend my elbow again. After they took the pins out, I'd have to rehab my hand for a few months. In other words, I'd really fucked up myself!
My mom came back around noon. She helped me eat my lunch and we made small talk for a while. I had a lot of questions, but she looked so tired I didn't want to bother her.
"I'm sorry about everything," I said. "I've been a real idiot."
"Well, I can't really argue with that," mom sighed. "You just rest and get better," she said.
"What's going on with dad?" I asked.
She sighed again. "He's stable. I'm really not sure what's going to happen. Do you remember what happened?"
"He had a stroke. That's all I really know."
"Well, he was working at Mr. Nicholson's house again. The Nicholsons left in the morning and your dad was working alone for a while. When the Nicholsons came home, they found him unconscious. They don't know how long he'd been there. They called an ambulance and they called me. I called Donnie and then Carol Smith."
"So if I'd have gone with him..." I began.
"Don't you even say it!" mom interrupted. "Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened, Billy! This was not your fault!"
"I should have been there, mom," I replied. "I'm such an idiot!" My eyes burned and I rubbed them awkwardly with my right hand. "All this over a stupid party that wasn't even all that fun."
"Billy, stop it," mom demanded.
Before I could respond, Dustin appeared in the doorway. "Hey guys!" he said, smiling. He walked into the room and stood beside my bed. His dark red hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. "Wow, you really did a number on yourself, didn't you!"
After a few minutes, Dustin's mom joined us. She had driven Dustin up to Pittsburgh to visit me. We talked about things for a while, and then the moms decided to go to the cafeteria. They left Dustin with me to keep me company.
Once we were alone, I asked, "Okay, so what the hell happened to me? All I remember is going to the bathroom. I sort of remember you coming in. Everything after that is kind of fuzzy."
"You really don't remember what you did?" he asked.
"Isn't that what I just said? Come on Dustin, I'm really scared. What did I do? How did this happen? You're the only one who can help me!"
"You don't remember punching the mirror?" he asked.
"I punched a mirror?"
"Yeah. Shattered it."
"I did this much damage to myself just punching a stupid mirror?"
"Yeah. It was unreal. It shattered all over the place. You really socked it good. I think what really did the damage was that you punched the wall behind it. That mirror didn't stand a chance. You destroyed it. There was glass everywhere. I don't know where you learned to punch like that, but it was a knockout punch if I ever saw one. I thought you were going to bleed to death. Reilly accused me of doing it to you. He's really mad at me. He's convinced I had something to do with it. Like I set you off or egged you on or something. Like I could do something like this to you! I was just trying to get you to calm down. You were really flipping out, all talking crazy about how it was all your fault and stuff like that. You were all crazy and talking about killing yourself. It was really scary."
"Really?" I asked in shock. "I said that I was going to kill myself?"
"Yeah. Reilly's really mad at me because I told his mom what you said. But she kept asking me all kinds of questions."
"Wait. You told Brett's mom I want to kill myself?"
"Hey, I just told the truth. You said it, not me!" Dustin protested.
"Why did you tell her that? I don't want to kill myself! Thanks, Dustin! Now she probably thinks I'm crazy!" I groaned.
"She's not the only one," Dustin said quietly.
"What? You think I'm crazy?" I asked.
"Well... you did punch a mirror. And when you saw all that blood everywhere you just laughed about it. It was really scary. I think you lost your mind for a while."
"Wait, what do you mean I laughed?" I asked.
"You just stood there looking at your hand, all bloody and messed up and stuff. And then you just started laughing. You were bleeding so much I thought you were going to die. I never saw so much blood. I didn't know what to do. And then Reilly barged in and flipped out. And then I had his mom and the cops asking me all kinds of questions. And then..."
"What cops?" I asked.
"Well, the cops wanted to find out what happened too," Dustin said.
"Holy shit there were cops too? What did you tell them?" I asked.
"I told them that you went nuts said you wanted to kill yourself and punched the mirror. What else was I supposed to say?"
"Oh I don't know, maybe not telling them that I'm a suicidal whack-job!" I fumed. "Wait, is that why I was strapped to the bed? Shit, now I know why they kept checking on me all night. How many people think I'm a nut-case?"
"Hey, I was just trying to help you! You scared the crap out of me last night. I really thought you were going to kill yourself. I just told the truth. You can't hate me for that. You sure can't keep your mouth shut lately when it comes to my life, you know!"
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Don't pretend you don't know," Dustin fumed. For a minute, I thought he was going to reveal to me that Brett had told him about what I saw him doing at Mike's house. But then he said, "You humiliated in front of the whole team. You told the whole team about me having that one rough night and made it sound like I'm some stupid idiot who spends every night up in the woods crying like a chump! Maybe you forgot?"
"Oh, that? Well you accused Brett of being a drug addict! Maybe you forgot, too!" I replied, remembering our fight. That seemed like years ago even though it had only been a couple of days.
"I never said he was an addict. I said he was a stoner. You're the one flipping out about everything. I swear, you're such a drama queen," Dustin said.
"I am not a drama queen, Dustin," I snapped. "I hate having all this crap going on in my life. I know you hate Brett, but that doesn't give you the right to make shit up like that about him. You're such a liar."
"Dude, I'm not making it up. I never lie to you. Amanda told me that your precious buddy Anthony A.K.A. `Tony' used to buy weed off of Max at the park."
"Oh, there's a reliable source! I'm going to believe your stupid sister over Brett."
"Why would she lie about that? You know what? I don't care. If you don't want to believe me, then don't! It's not my problem! Just don't come crying to me when you find out the truth! I didn't come here to argue with you, but you're still being a jerk! I hate talking to you when you're like this. I'll see you in school."
"Wait Dustin, don't leave like that. I'm sorry!"
"You're always sorry. Whatever!" Dustin replied. "I don't care. Get better and all that crap." He stormed out the door angrily.
I turned to the kid in the bed next to mine. "Can you believe that guy?" The kid didn't answer, he just kept watching the tv. I didn't lay there feeling sorry for myself for long, because about an hour later Brett peeked into the doorway.
"Hey dude!" I said happily.
"My mom's coming," he said quietly. Sure enough, Dr. Reilly walked into the room behind Brett.
"Well look who's up!" she said. "You look much better than the last time I saw you."
"When was that?" I asked.
"Last night. I stopped in a few times to see how you were doing. You were asleep of course. That's good though. You need to get all the rest you can get. Doctor's orders!"
My mom returned to the room and filled us in on what was going to happen. "Well, your father is going to be here for at least a week, maybe two. Once he's cleared, he's going to be sent to a rehabilitation center down in Morgantown."
"Oh, they're very good down there," Dr. Reilly explained.
"That's good to hear. Everything is so crazy right now, it's good to have someone like you to help us, Jen. As for Billy, he'll be released from here tomorrow morning assuming he doesn't break anything else. As for the other issues... I guess that's your call, Jen."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, Billy, you did put your hand through a mirror..." mom said.
"That wasn't his fault!" Brett protested.
"Brett, hush!" Dr. Reilly snapped. Brett folded his arms and scowled at his mother.
"You also said you were going to kill yourself."
"Dustin was the one who..." Brett began.
"Brett, don't you start," Dr. Reilly said sternly, "or you will have to leave!"
Brett scowled viciously at his mother.
"Anyway, Jenny has agreed to help you for a while, Billy," mom informed me. "We want to help you sort some things out."
I looked at Brett and he looked at me. We didn't even have to say a word to know what each of us was thinking. Thanks to Dustin, I was now one of Brett's mom's `freaks.'
"It's only for a short while, Billy. If you need something more long term, I'll help your mom find someone who can help you on a more long term basis. I'm just helping out as your friend. I'm not going to be your doctor. I'm too close to you."
"So when are we going home?" I asked.
"Well, we're going to stay here with some friends of mine until your father is ready to go to the rehab center. Then we'll go home."
"So we're going to be stuck up here in Pittsburgh for two weeks?" I asked.
"What about school?" Brett asked.
"He'll just have to miss it. It's the last week anyway. I'd think he'd be happy about not going, since apparently he hates school nowadays and wants to beat people up when he's there," mom explained. "After all, I can't be in two places at once. George needs me to be close. I can't be thirty miles away if he needs me."
"Why couldn't Billy just stay with us?" Brett asked. "Then he could still go to school."
"Yeah!" I agreed.
"No, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that," mom said.
"It wouldn't be a problem," Dr. Reilly said. "I'd love to have Billy stay with us. We have the room. Heaven knows Brett's spent more than enough time with your family over the years. It'll be one less thing for you to worry about. I'd like to have the time with Billy anyway."
"Well if you're sure. I mean, he's not going to be a burden for you? He's got that big cast and everything. He's going to need a lot of extra help to do things right-handed. He does everything left-handed."
"I'll help him!" Brett chimed in. "Please Mrs. Roberts!"
"Yeah, please mom!" I begged.
"I don't know," she whispered quietly to Dr. Reilly but I could still hear her. "He has a weak bladder and sometimes at night he..."
"MOM!!!" I protested, mortified that she would even consider bringing that up.
"Well, I guess if it's okay with you, Jenny, and if Billy wants to..."
"YES!" I didn't even let her finish.
"Then we all agree," Dr. Reilly laughed. "Looks like we'll get some use out of the spare room!"
"The spare room?!?" Brett scoffed. "Why can't he stay in my room?"
"We'll deal with the logistics later," Dr. Reilly explained.
After a little while, mom and Dr. Reilly left and I was finally alone with Brett. As soon as they left, Brett jumped out of his chair and kissed me. The kid in the next bed looked at us weird, but then went back to watching television.
"Thank god you're okay! You had me scared to death!" Brett said.
"I'm sorry," I replied. "I don't know why I keep messing everything up."
"It's not your fault. I don't know what that fucking Dustin did to you, but I'm going to kill the son of a bitch."
"Don't say stuff like that!" I replied. "It wasn't his fault."
"The hell it wasn't! What was he doing in there with you? He was supposed to just help us find you. Instead, I find you covered in blood and him standing there like a dope. And then he fucking told the cops you were trying to kill yourself!"
"I know. I'm not too happy about that, either. But honestly, I don't remember why I punched that mirror. I don't even remember doing it."
"What do you remember?" Brett asked.
"Before I woke up after surgery, the last thing I remember is..." I struggled to think. "I don't know. I remember the party and the ride in here and then... Everything's a blur after that."
"Don't worry about it. It'll come back to you. You're going to get to spend a whole week or two at my house, just think about that instead."
"That is going to be awesome!" I replied. "Maybe when your mom isn't around we can have some fun!"
"Fuck yeah!" Brett replied. "And maybe the cops can stop in at that jerk's house and ask him about what he does with his computer buddy. Give him a taste of his own medicine!"
"Brett!" I warned. "Leave Dustin alone. You can't say anything about him and Mike. It'd destroy him!"
"Well maybe he deserves to be destroyed," Brett said coldly.
"Brett, promise me you won't say anything," I asked.
"You are no fun," Brett complained. "Fine. I won't say anything."
"Thank you," I replied.
"For now. He's still an asshole," Brett grumbled.
"There's a lot of that going around," I replied.
Welcome to Part Four! Looks like Billy and Brett will be spending a lot more time together!
If you'd like to comment, you can reach me at: jkwsquirrel@yahoo.com I hope you will!
Next time: Take Time with a Wounded Hand