Who We Are (The Seafare Chronicles 2)

“How is he?” Jerry asks.

“He’s in surgery right now,” Dr. Woods says. “He has a broken femur”—she points to her left thigh—“and a broken radius”—she points to her left arm. “There also appears to be a laceration to his kidney, but that doesn’t look too severe. What we’re most concerned about at the moment is the swelling in his brain. It appears he hit his head against the window when he was struck. It’s too soon to say if there is any damage there that needs to be addressed, but if the swelling does not go down in a day or two, most likely a portion of his skull will need to be removed to help relieve the pressure there. Once the swelling has gone down, we’ll be able to perform a CT scan with some dye that we’ll inject to be able to determine if there is any brain damage.”

Words. So many words. And all I can hear is “brain damage.” That’s all I focus on. That’s all there seems to be.

“Now,” the doctor continues, “he’s going to be in surgery for

a while longer, and then he’ll be moved into the ICU, and you’ll be allowed to see him. I will tell you that no matter how much I can prepare you, no matter what I say to you, it’s always a shock to see a loved one after having been involved in an accident. He won’t necessarily look like the Oliver that you know. He’ll have some pretty severe bruising, some superficial burns on his arms and face from the airbag. He’ll be hooked up to a respirator to assist him with his breathing. There are other machines he’ll be hooked up to that monitor his vitals. He’ll have stitches above his right eye for a cut he sustained, and temporary casts on his leg and arm. But, he still is the Oliver you know. He is still your son and partner and that is what you have to remember.” Her face and voice are kind. It’s almost too much. “I think it’s safe for you all to be cautiously optimistic. He’s a big guy, and he’s in great shape, so his body will be able to heal because of that. He won’t wake up right away, and it actually may be up to a couple of weeks, so just please remember to have patience. I like to think that people in his situation can hear you, so talk to him, love him, let him know you’re there.”

Jerry and Alice ask question after question, but I’m numb. Cautiously optimistic? What does that even mean? Proceed with caution. Caution means to slow down. To be wary. To be watchful.

“When can I see him?” I blurt out, interrupting the conversation around me.

Dr. Woods watches me for a moment. “Did you say his nickname was Otter?”

I nod, a tear spilling from my eye.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Bear, would you?”

“Yes,” I gasp out.

She smiles sadly at me as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a plastic bag, smeared lightly with blood. Inside I see a wallet. It’s Otter’s.

That’s Otter’s blood. My eyes burn.

She opens the bag and pulls out a piece of paper with bloody fingerprints on it wrapped around a little box. “I think this is yours. He had it clutched in his hand when he was brought in here. The EMTs told us that he was conscious for a brief moment at the scene when they arrived, and that he said he couldn’t lose what was in his hand, that he needed to get to Bear. He… seemed to think you were in the car. It was still in his hand when they brought him in, and the note has your name on it, and I knew he’d want you to have it. I put a rubber band around it to hold them together.”

She hands the bag to Jerry and the note-wrapped box to me. The blood is still tacky against my hands. Otter’s blood. In my hands.

Dr. Woods tells us that she’ll be back once she has an update, and that we should just sit tight for now. She’ll let us know once he’s done with surgery and we can see him.

I wait until she walks away before I start to breathe again.

This box. This little box in my hand.

I slide off the rubber band and peel off the note, opening it to see Otter’s handwriting mixed in with the Kid’s scrawled across the lined paper, the blood smudging some of the words, but not enough to make them illegible. I wish they were. The words are a beginning, and I feel like I’m at the end.

Bear! Bear! Bear!

I’ve something to say! Don’t be scared!

Bacon is bad! Beef is wrong!

Mad Cow Disease stays with you for a time that’s long!

I want you to be mine, can’t you see?

That’s why I am down, down on my knee!

It may not yet be legal,

but it’s better than eating a beagle,

so won’t you please marry me?

The note flutters from my hand and falls to the floor.

“Bear?” Alice asks, her voice shaky, but she’s so far away. “Bear, what’s wrong?”