Chills Right to the Marrow Part 11
part 1, prev part
As fast as Eddie opens his eyes, he shuts them again. Falling back into the slow, deep breaths and constant heartbeats.
Something changed.
Wayne calls the nurse. They check off things on their charts, try to ask Eddie some questions. Like if he can move his hand, try to open his eyes again. Nothing happens. They say something about checking back every few hours.
He’s convinced that they don’t believe him. That they think he fabricated it all out of some hope filled delusion. Not like he’s been waiting here for days. Praying for his boy to wake up. Wishing in some miracle that he’d be able to smile again. All for it to be answered and taken away from him in a blink of his eyes.
But the nurse assures him that they believe him. Explain how most coma patients start to wake up with opening their eyes, moving their hands. How if he shows more movement while Wayne’s here, they’d like to know about it. Will be checking up on him more frequently, and in longer increments to try and document them.
It all sounds too good to be true. Like the last string of hope holding on to dear life. The only thing holding Wayne together. Tying him down so he doesn’t fall down and break.
He needs to get out of here for a while. Take a night for himself.
He drives around, burning gas traveling to an unknown location. Mindlessly following the paths he knows well. Drives past the trailer park three times, almost turning in. Only stopped by the construction signs blocking his path. Ends at the bar he would frequent on his nights off. Would get a beer to cool off after work. Try to forget about life for a while.
Forgetting sounds nice. Loosening the stress that knots in his shoulders. Be able to sleep restfully for a night. Refresh enough to walk back into that hospital room with a full basket of hope. All for it to slowly drain again.
It can’t drain this time.
Instead, Wayne brings himself to a gas station and counts the stray dollars and quarters in his glove box. Has just enough to buy himself a case of beer. Giving himself a limit so he doesn’t spend, or drink more than he can afford.
Sees Harrington and his brown-haired friend walk out of the video store they work at. Closing it up and heading to the diner down the road. Perfectly fine.
No matter how hard Wayne tries, the anger still points in Steve’s direction. For reasons he doesn’t even know anymore. More because it’s easy. They went through the same attack. Steve knows enough about Eddie from that week to have the answer Wayne craved.
But no one tells him anything. Continuously keeps secrets from him without good explanations. Makes this so much harder than it should be. Makes him down beer after beer, wanting to just make any of this easier.
Wayne wakes up the next morning with empty beer cans pressed into his side and a crick in his neck that won’t quit. Cracks his back in a way that just makes it worse. Cleans himself up, tries to wipe away the bags under his eyes. Scrub off the hospital and beer in the shower. Change into slightly cleaner clothes. Cursing himself for using his quarters for beer instead of the laundromat.
He makes his way to the hospital. Eating a shitty stale toaster pastry and hoping it’ll be enough. Knowing his upcoming paycheck will be mostly eaten up by all the other things before him. Walks into the room a little after eleven. A nurse asking Eddie question after question.
Eddie responding to almost every one of them. Opens his eyes when asked, then closes them again. Squeezes the nurse’s hand gently. Turns his head just slightly toward the light.
The hope basket overfills this time.
Dustin comes in the room a little after three. Bookbag thrown over his shoulder, ruffling through to find the book. Shocked still when he sees Eddie opening his eyes.
“He’s awake,” he says in disbelief. Tears starting to form in his eyes.
“Not quite.” Wayne gently corrects. “He still has a long way to go before he can respond, or even register what’s happenin’ around him. His body and mind are racing to get back in sync with each other.”
That’s what the nurses told him earlier. How he’s slowly getting there but isn’t all the way awake again. He’s there, and awake, but not all the way yet. It just all takes time.
“Can he hear me?”
Wayne looks at his boy, watching as his head turns ever so gently toward the two of them. “I think he might, yeah.”
Dustin leans forward, placing his hand over Eddie’s. Watched as his hand tenses at the touch. “Eddie,” his voice breaks. “It’s Dustin. You know, Henderson. I just wanted to say that you’re doing a great job. I hope you get better really soon. I’ve really missed you. And I’m sorry. You should have never been apart of this, I should have never dragged you into it the way I did. I wouldn’t have if I knew you would end up here.”
Wayne wants to know what this all means. What Eddie was dragged into. How this poor kid knew about it enough to drag anyone into anything. How dangerous this all really was.
But it isn’t the right time for these questions. Not for this kid to answer right now. He just sits back and listens to the next chapter of the book. Watches as Eddie responds to it. Is almost brought to tears with each time he opens his eyes to a part he likes. As Dustin stops just to make sure it’s true.
He follows Dustin out when he goes to leave. Sees how he runs up to Steve in the waiting room. Eyes closed and head resting on the wall.
“Steve, Eddie’s starting to wake up,” Dustin shares excitedly.
Steve picks his head off the wall enough for the visible relieved breath to show. “That’s-that’s really good, Dustin.”
He takes a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slides them on. His head thunks back on the wall. Almost like he’s hungover. Face lost some color, voice sounding breathless.
“Are you ok?” Dustin asks.
Steve shakes his head gently. “Call your mom, can’t drive home.”
“Shit ok.” Dustin runs off to the nearest payphone. Pulling a few quarters out of his bag and dialing a number.
The brown-haired girl that Wayne should really know the name of comes down the hallway. Immediately knowing that something’s wrong with Steve and rushing over with a bottle of water. Asking him something before scolding about how he’s going to put himself back into a hospital bed.
Wayne’s not so sure this is just a hangover.
“How bad’s the pain?” The girls asks, pouring some of the water onto a tissue and pressing it against Steve’s head.
“Eight,” Steve exhales. Fighting like he’s about to puke.
The girl must realize this too, as she slings one of his arms over her shoulders and basically drags him to the bathrooms.
Wayne’s starting to realize that there’s a lot he doesn’t know. Made harsh judgements that might have not been deserved. He’s starting to realize that he wants to know what happened. To all of them. About all of them. Why this group of people know each other and how it all connects to Eddie.
He just has to start asking the questions.
Next part
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