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“And if it doesn’t go down?”
“Then we know there could be more damage done to his brain than we initially thought. So we’d start with doing another surgery, another hole in his skull to allow for the swelling. Sometimes it’s a new bleed that’s causing the problem. In that case, again, another surgery like we had to do today.”
I let out a heavy breath. “So if he wakes up, then what?”
“I’ll have to do another small surgery to put the piece of the skull back in place once the pressure is down and stays down.” My eyes widen as I stare at Grayson. “That’s nothing compared to the first and second surgeries though, but we’re still a long way from that,” he adds, noticing the worry etched in my face. “Even with no complications from this point on, he has a very long recovery, and we don’t know what that recovery will look like. It’s different for everyone. For now, let’s just take it hour by hour. We’ll lighten the sedation around the eighteen-hour mark after this last surgery to see if he can follow those simple commands we talked about. Squeezing my hand, thumbs-up, eye movements, look me in the eye, wiggle his toes.”
“Can I be in the room when that happens?” I blurt, remembering how jealous I was that Dr. Nehls got to see him awake.
He nods. “This time, yes. I think that can be arranged.” His eyes move to Leigha.
She nods, smiling at Julia and me. “I’ll make sure you’re both here for that.”
“Then what happens after you wake him up?” Julia asks, speaking for the first time. I didn’t realize until now I’ve been the one to be asking most of the questions.
“We only want him awake long enough to test brain function. After that, we’ll give him more pain medication and keep himsedated and comfortable. He’ll be going in for a series of CT scans to check on the bleeding and swelling. If it goes down, and keeps going down, we’ll lighten the sedation even more, wake him up and to do the breathing trials, if he passes them, we eventually remove the breathing tube. But all that will happen slowly. Can take weeks.”
I stare at the monitors and then Grayson’s face. “What about his heart rate and the pressure. Is it too high now?”
Dr. Nehls glances at the monitors too, and then me again. “He’s holding steady at where he’s at. We monitor it so that the pressure doesn’t become so severe that the brain herniates onto the brain stem.”
“What if that happens? Another surgery?”
His face softens and I watch the roll of his throat as he swallows. “That’s the end game for us, Evie. He wouldn’t come back from that. He’d be brain dead.”
I gasp, my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God.”
His hand reaches out, rubbing my back. “Evie, honey, we’re doing everything we can. Remember, Grayson’s fighting. He is.”
I try to accept his words and believe him, but it’s hard. Especially after the scare he gave us earlier.
Eighteen hours.
Just wait eighteen hours and hopefully I can at least see him awake for a short time.
I shower for the first time and even the water hitting my skin makes me cry. It burns so bad I have to stop and have my mom and Frankie give me a sponge bath.
I’m forced to eat something and throw up about twenty minutes after it. I am, in fact, losing it, but all I can do is think and worry about Grayson.
For the next few hours, a pastor comes to see him. We praytogether. Social workers check in on me, police, a sexual assault nurse walks me through filing charges against Shane and what will happen after that. They send in a grief counselor. She’s sweet and holds my hand, trying to assure me that everything I’m feeling and going through is natural, but I’m not convinced. Through all of that, never once do any of them promise he’ll make it. I try, twisting my words so that maybe they’ll reassure me, but they don’t.
I’m given no promises of tomorrow with him.
Wyatt comes into my room for the first time that afternoon. He’s the closest thing I have to a dad and the very second he enters my room, I think, what if he’s here to tell me Grayson’s gone? What if that hemorrhage they talked about in his brain stem happened?
“There’s no change,” he tells me, closing the door behind him. “It’ll be around five tonight before they ease off the sedation.”
No change isn’t great, but it isn’t bad. I look at the clock. It’s only been twelve hours.
Wyatt comes closer. He looks nervous, as though he wants to ask if I’m okay, but knows the answer. He touches my hand and squeezes and when our eyes meet, I see Grayson in him. I burst into tears. “I’m sorry I led him to Grayson.”
It seems that’s all I can say. I’m sorry for so much.
Without words, he crawls into my bed with me, wraps his arms around my body and holds me. And until this moment, it’s something I didn’t know I needed. Wyatt has held me like this three times in my life. The night my dad put my mom in the hospital, he comforted a terrified four-year-old who thought her mom was going to die. Then again, after Grayson left, he found me drunk, lying on Grayson’s bed, holding that damn letter. He lay next to me, brought me to his chest and assured me everything would be okay. Then again the first time Shane hit me and I refused to tell anyone, yet somehow, this man knew I needed someone I trusted to tell me everything was going to be okay.
And now, when I have nothing left, he gives me that fatherly assurance I didn’t know I needed from him.
Despite only thinking of myself, I can’t imagine what he’s going through. I think I cry more for him because this man has loved me and my family unconditionally since the day we moved next door, and his son is barely hanging on. And then,thenI cry for me. Because this is, well, fucking overwhelming.