23
RJ: On the Dotted Line
While waiting to be transferred to a private room later in the day, I borrowed Julio’s phone after my mother had slipped out of my curtained room to maybe ruin someone else’s day for a change. Julio hadn’t really wanted to hand it over, fearing Heather’s wrath, but after I explained the benefits of being friends with me, he relented.
I dialed up Bodhi. There was no answer. Had he seen my name popping up on his phone, I had no doubt he’d have been more responsive, but as it was, he probably assumed the incoming call from an unknown number was an extended warranty company giving him his ‘very last’ warning.
The voicemail kicked in, and with my voice barely more than a whisper, I left a message. “Dude, it’s RJ. I need Tucker, and no I haven’t taken a blow to the head.”
I went on to describe the situation to him before hanging up and handing the phone back to Julio.
“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
We exchanged a handshake.
“You owe me two.” He winked, no doubt referring to the ‘groupies backstage experience’ I’d offered him in order to gain access to his phone.
“Hey, I can only get you in.” I laughed. “The rest is all up to you, and let’s be honest, it’s going to be an uphill battle.”
Julio took no offense, laughing at the diss.
Still gripping his hand, I pulled him in close so as not to get him in trouble. “If Bodhi Beckett calls you back, you have my permission to tell him what room I’m in.”
His eyes widened. “Bodhi Beckett is going to call my phone?”
“He will if he checks his messages.”
Julio stared down at his phone as if it had suddenly turned to gold. “Bodhi. Wow. Okay, then. That’s exciting and unexpected.”
“What the hell, Julio,” I said. “I’m as famous as he is.”
“I know, but I’ve been changing your catheter for a few days. You’ve lost your shine.”
The distant sound of my mother’s voice caught our attention.
Julio peeked through the opening in the curtains. “She’s baacckk.”
“Watch it, Julio; that’s my mother you’re talking about.”
We both laughed.
Julio returned to my side, dropping his voice. “Oh, and if I don’t see you again, her name is Susan Beri.”
It took me a second to connect the dots. Julio was referring to none other than Sue, my favorite sudoku-playing, senior citizen informant.
The problem with residing in the ICU for long periods of time, aside from the obvious health perils, was that they adhered to a strict ‘close family only’ visitors rule. Because it was against policy to allow outsiders in, the staff were more inclined to side with my mother when it came to Dani. But now that I’d been transferred into a private room and visitors were allowed, I thought the isolation would finally end. I was wrong. Even after providing my new nurse with a list of the people I wanted to see, no one came. No one. Not Dani. Not Bodhi. Not Tucker. Not even one of my so-called ‘blood’ brothers.
Still without a cell phone, I used the bedside one to call Bodhi again, and as with every other time I’d tried to call today, it just rang and rang. Cursing, I returned the phone to the receiver and lay back in my bed. Where was everyone? Why weren’t they answering? With no connection to the outside world, it felt like I was trapped all over again, waiting to die. At least now I had morphine to numb the pain of their betrayal.
Renato and my brothers showed up toward the end of visiting hours on my first day in the private room. Luis was wearing a Magic Mountain Six Flags t-shirt, so I had to assume they’d taken a detour to the amusement park before finally making their way to the hospital—five days late.
My mother fussed over me when they arrived, playing the dutiful mother by smoothing down my wild, unruly hair.
“Doesn’t he look wonderful?” she said.
So ridiculously doting was she, I half expected her to lick her finger and wipe a smudge of dirt from my face.
“Dude, you’re rockin’ the girly hair,” Luis said, tousling my overgrown tresses.
I knocked his hand away. “And you’re rockin’ the cotton candy gut.”
His smile faded. If he thought he could walk all over me in my weakened state, he was dead wrong. I’d never been one to back down from a duel, and it was more so now that I knew he’d chosen Batman the Ride over me.
“Fuckin’ dick,” he mumbled, pulling his phone out and leaning against the window, ignoring me.
Renato walked up and slapped me on the shoulder in greeting. “You had us all worried there, kid.”
Uh-huh, sure I did. Worried I would live and he’d have to continue kissing my ass so he could be home during the days to watch Judge Judy.
“Renato,” my mother tsked. “Don’t jostle him. He’s got a punctured lung.”
“Did I slap him on the chest, Heather? No, I don’t think I did. Last time I checked, shoulders weren’t connected to lungs, so I think we’re good. Besides, RJ’s tough. Always has been, right, bud?”
Bud? Since when had he assigned me a nickname?
“Anyway.” Renato slapped me again on the shoulder. “Happy to see you up and breathing on your own.”
“He still has the oxygen for a few more days. He just had a CT scan of his chest, and the lungs look better,” Mom said in a strange educational voice, like she was explaining a rotary phone to minors.
That was when everyone began discussing my health over the top of me. I didn’t bother joining in because I didn’t appear to be needed. Manny settled into the chair at the end of the bed, his eyes trained on my bandaged leg like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the guts. That was the sort of relationship we had. He’d always been a follower, Luis’s shadow. Growing up, we’d hung out and had fun, but as soon as Luis came around, he’d fall right back in line like the rest of them. I’d come to despise him most because I knew he had a good heart, yet Manny openly denied it for fear of joining me at the tray table for dinner.
Chewing on his nails, his eyes traveled the length of my body until they unexpectedly met mine. His widened before swiftly looking away.
“Just say it,” I challenged, already feeling defensive after what Sue had revealed.
“No, I…” He dragged his eyes back to mine but there was something different in them—genuine concern. “Are you going to be able to walk again?”
I wasn’t sure why his question hit me like it did. It wasn’t so much what he asked… but how he asked it. Manny just wanted to know if I’d be okay.
“Yeah, I’ll walk again.”
“How long do they think it will take?”
That was a good question, and one I’d been asking of the long line of medical personnel that came to my bedside near daily to prepare me for what was to come. And the main takeaway was that there was no quick fix on my road to recovery, no strapping on a new foot and going on my way. There would be wound healing and leg shaping and prosthetic fitting and physical therapy.
And if Heather got her way, I’d be undergoing weekly sessions with the exceedingly calm psychotherapist, who’d described in detail the emotional aspects of losing a limb. I nodded, pretending to care, but truthfully, I was relieved it was gone. It had had to go so I could live—so Dani could live. Maybe down the road I’d feel its loss, but right now all I cared about was being alive. So, I played along with the charade knowing that once I got control of my medical decisions, Heather and the psychotherapist would be the first ones gone.