Riley Mackenzie - Beautifully Done

“Where’s Lili? Go be with her. Fucking traumatic doesn’t even begin to describe that scene. I heard her cry with you earlier, but she’s been a rock ever since, glued to our sides. She’s gonna break, C. She needs to. That shit can’t be bottled up.”

“Thanks. Thanks for...” I waved him off. No thanks were necessary. Not ever. I only did what I would’ve done for any of my family. “Well, she insisted on going to your apartment. Pick up some things for you and Tal. We’ll bring them by later. I’m gonna meet her there. You mind if we stay in your guest room? I don’t want her anywhere near our place. Not until I get back in there first.”

“What’s mine is yours, you know that. Stay as long as you need. Appreciate you grabbing our stuff.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze and circled up to kiss Tal’s head. Lingering in thought, he brushed a knuckle over her cheek before he glanced back at Tack. “So twins, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Good stuff.”

Probably the worst congratulations in the history of congrats. Roy Wayne was to thank for ruining that as well. Chase just mouthed ‘yeah’ under his breath before he added the words neither one of us ever wanted to hear, “We’ll have to wait and see.”

The obnoxious scent of bad flowers was starting to make me sick. After four days in the ICU, we were now on day four in a regular room. Crazy, but I liked the ICU better, if liked was even an appropriate word to use in the same sentence as ICU, anyway … couldn’t have flowers there. For as many times as I was in and out of hospitals I never got the full experience without flowers. You’d have thought I would be sitting here thanking God I wasn’t sick enough to make it to the ICU. Nope. Instead I was reliving repressed memories through Tal’s constant delivery of cut flowers. Vases covered every damn surface. I never understood why this was the go-to feel better gift. And obviously still didn’t. For all intents and purposes flowers were dead, or silently awaiting their death as someone watched on. Awfully morbid, but then again I was a teenaged boy who had nothing else to think about while the chemo infiltrated his system. Shit, we’d been in this hospital too long.

“These flowers suck, Teeps. I’m gonna start tossing them.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me and smirked. The smirk made me think she was catching on to my flower/hospital disgust. I tossed a couple of bouquets in the trash, only to be replaced moments later by the exact same arrangement sent by the hospital. Carnations, cheap fuckers. But what killed me was it arrived the same time every day, like clockwork. Everything in the goddamn hospital was clockwork.

“What’d the flowers do to you?”

“Remind me how much I hate hospitals and how badly I want you out of here.” It was the truth.

“Chase said my last scan showed no new changes, my neuro exam remains unchanged, and my incision looks good. As long as I can manage the wheelchair on my own this afternoon, I should be able to get out of here.” She beckoned me closer and kissed my lips. She was doing well so far, or as well as you could from getting shot, having a major spine surgery, and discovering life as you knew it was changed. Her initial fear was replaced with a determination. The strength I knew she would find. “I love you and everything you’re doing. I can’t wait to go home, too.”

I kissed her again, taking my time to explore her delicious mouth until a cleared throat interrupted us.

I glanced at the clock, one minute after eleven. The nurse arrived. Like clockwork. Asked for her pain level. Like clockwork. Checked vitals. Like clockwork. Squished the goddamn IV bags to check the fluid levels. Like clockwork. Lifted the sheet and asked her to wiggle her toes. Like clockwork. Every. Single. Time. It was me, not her who was losing it.

“Ash, it’s okay. It’s just the way it is. It happens.”

Was she kidding me?

“There’s nothing okay about it. You’ve been here nine days, and she’s gonna start organizing your discharge now, after Chase medically cleared you to go last night? What has she been doing all week?”

Talia shot me a look of death, but I didn’t care. The useless care coordinator needed to know I wasn’t screwing around.

“Mr. Craig, as I explained, it takes at least twenty-four hours to get prior authorization and to set up home services. They need to review all of her studies and consult reports before she is accepted. Besides, going home directly from discharge is very unusual. Typically the short term rehab facility takes care of this.”

I was losing patience. Correction, I lost my patience one hundred and forty-five thousand minutes ago when a room full of white coats sat me down and tried to explain ‘incomplete spinal injury of unclear etiology.’ The bullet was lodged next to her spine at the level of T6, but didn’t actually hit it. (And yes, now I was so well versed in nomenclature of vertebrae and spinal levels that I could probably teach a fucking anatomy course.) She was moving her legs before and immediately after surgery. Her MRIs and CT scans, for all intents and purposes were normal with ‘standard post-operative changes,’ none of which contributed to or were even localized to the level of her spinal injury, which was determined to be T12. Yet she had full sensation below her waist and had what they called sacral sparing, meaning she was fully continent. But she couldn’t move her legs at all. It made no sense. It was an enigma only documented in a dozen case reports, each with different outcomes. Ten of twelve were unacceptable.

The real kicker was risk management’s pseudo-friendly visit day two to reassure Tal that outside Neuro specialists were consulted and found no correlation to the actual surgery. Like she was going to blame Chase. There was one person to blame, and half his brain matter was still probably splattered on Chase’s living room wall. So yeah, my patience for hospital administrators was non-existent.

I looked straight through Theresa Whatever, because I was done looking at her and said, “Let me get this straight, you’re upset I’m taking my fiancé home instead of to an inpatient rehab because you have to do a little extra paperwork. Are you really telling me that I was able to coordinate an entire renovation from here, make our place wheelchair accessible in a week’s time, and you couldn’t fax a few reports or pick up the goddamn phone to make sure her physical therapy was set up? Please tell me you’re not saying that.”

“Ace.” Cue second look of death. “Theresa, I’m sorry, he didn’t mean it like that. We’re all just a little on edge.”

Damn well I meant it like that.

“It’s fine, I get it. I do, Mr. Craig. I feel your frustration-”

“No,” I cut her off from continuing her condescension, “I don’t think you do. She’s going home and she’s going home today. I’ve given you the team of therapists we’ve chosen. With simple coordination they’re all on board. You’re the patient coordinator, correct? If you can’t handle it, print up the necessary reports and my assistant will gladly take over.”

“It is not that simple, Mr. Craig. Prior authorizations need to go through-”

If she mentioned prior authorization one more time I was going to implode.

“I couldn’t give two-” I swiped my face to get a grip before I lost my shit. I refused to sleep on the couch our first night home. And the way Tal’s lethal eye daggers were drilling into me, I was close. Not to mention she worked with these people. “Money is not an issue at all. Understand?”

“So you’ve said-” Her tight-mouthed sneer screamed must be nice, but I honestly didn’t care. I wasn’t apologizing for working hard and being financially secure. “Fine, if you don’t want to go through insurance, your prerogative. Give me an hour. I can’t guarantee PT today, but you’ll definitely have your home health aid.”

“I didn’t request an aid,” I snapped. Why the hell would she need an aid?

Tal placed her hand over my arm. “I did.” She looked from me to Useless. “Thanks, Theresa. We’re all set here.” Tal held back on apologizing and reiterating that I was an ass. But I didn’t get it.

“Why would you ask for an aid? We don’t need that—you just need therapy. With everything else you’ve got me.”

“I know. But you can’t stay home all day. And until I strengthen my upper body and can, well, help myself more, an extra pair of hands will be helpful.”

I wasn’t letting her go there. Oh hell no. It was this hospital. The walls were suffocating us both. We needed the hell out.

“First of all, this isn’t permanent, so get that out of your head. And second, I’m not going anywhere. I will be home with you until you’re better.” My pep talk had the opposite effect of what I’d hoped. Her eyes softened and glassed over.

“Ash, I can’t even shower… ” She fought to keep her composure. My chest tensed. She hadn’t shed any tears since that first day in recovery. Not a single one. In nine long days. “I’m not strong enough to lift myself from the chair.” The crack in her voice made my chest tension turn to a full constriction. “I, um, can’t go to the bathroom by myself.” A single drop escaped and rolled down her cheek, leaving me to fight my own.

I palmed her face so she couldn’t look away. “Then I will carry you.” I hoped my eyes said the million other things the knot in my throat wouldn’t let me.

Our moment was interrupted with a loud knock.

“Dr. P, what’s up, girl? Hope I’m not interrupting, but I heard you’re springing the joint. Thought you’d like your fancy new wheels.” Julius was director of inpatient Physical Therapy and the newest member of her home rehab team. An athlete-turned-physical-therapist after a helmet to the spine ended his pro ball career and left him in a chair of his own for seven months, he was six and a half feet of tough love and just what Tal needed. Or so I thought. He was pushing the small-framed black chair around as if it were the next item up for bid on the Price is Right. “Ultra-lite, tita-nium. Whoa, girlfriend, your man’s got some deep pockets. This is the Cadi-llac deluxe.” That was it, he was fired. “I told him not to waste his money, told him he could lease one of these bad boys. Did he listen to Julius? Hell no. Now Doc, we gotta show him up. How about we make a pact to get you out of this chair before his Amex bill comes in next month?” Then the son of a bitch winked at her. “What do ya say?”