Staying on Course (Finding our Way 2)
“You done in there?” Quinn’s voice interrupts my thought as she knocks softly on the door.
“Yes.” I open it and walk out. She’s not alone. Our whole group has crowded in the small room.
“You look and smell a lot better.”
“I wasn’t that bad.” I try to defend myself but realize she is probably right. “Okay, maybe I was.”
“We made a plan this morning. Your parents are coming with us back to Charlottesville. I’ll pack you some more clothes, and anything you need for school, and they’ll drive your car back.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll text you a list of things I need. I’ve already emailed all my professors, and they’ve understood. Most of my stuff can be done electronically.”
“I’ll send all my notes for as long as you need,” Crystal offer
s.
My mom walks up and puts an arm around my shoulder, tugging me gently into her. “We’ll be back in a few days. You need me, anytime, you call.”
“Okay.”
We say our goodbyes, and Sheila and Dave stay behind while Nate takes me downstairs. Before we get to the cafeteria, I see the blanket of snow on the ground outside and guide him toward the door. When we step outside, I pull my hoodie up and cross my arms. Even though I’m freezing, the fresh air is welcomed.
“I wonder if the fresh air would help Bryce? Maybe that’s exactly what he needs.”
“If you think the hospital staff is going to let you wheel him out here in the twenty degree weather, you’re crazy,” Nate informs me.
“I know. It was only a thought. I’d do anything if I knew it’d help.”
“Come here.” He holds his arms out and then closes me into his warm body. “I love him, too. We’ll get through this. Remember, the doctors said his brain is healing itself, and we can’t rush it.”
“What if they’re wrong? What if he stays like this forever?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know? He hasn’t moved in three fucking days!”
“Devon.”
“No, Nate, you don’t know what I do. I’ve been researching online, and there is a myriad of outcomes, most of them not good.”
“What the fuck? Myriad of outcomes? What sort of bullshit have you been reading?”
“I googled brain injuries, and there are hundreds of thousands of articles on short term and long term complications. Amnesia, paralysis, loss of bodily functions to name a few. The longer he lays there, not responding, the greater the chances I’ll lose my Bryce!” People walking by glance our way as my voice gradually becomes louder. I duck my head in embarrassment, but the possibilities race through my mind.
“Researching online? You know better than that! Are these the same sites that said you had MRSA because of an infected mosquito bite?”
“It was scary!”
“The same sites that convinced Quinn she had a brain tumor because she had had a migraine.”
“It was a bad migraine, and she had it for more than four hours.”
“The same sites that—”
“Stop!” I hold up my hand to his face. “I get your point, but I had to do something. The doctors aren’t telling us anything.”
“The doctors are telling us what they can. This is not cut and dry, Devon! Is this what you’ve been doing at night? Staying up and filling your head with a bunch of crazy shit?”
I stare at the ground not answering.