Page 147 of Tiny Fractures

“Last night, around two. My dad said the nurse came in to place a new IV line and she asked Ran to squeeze her hand, like she usually does. And this time, he finally did.” Steve’s voice is giddy as I hear him pace back and forth in the hospital corridor. “And then my dad kept talking to him, asking him to open his eyes. It took him a while to come out of it, but he did. He’s back.” Steve chokes back a sob as he tries hard to rein in his emotions.

“How is he?” I ask, desperately.

“He’s asleep right now; they have him doped up on painkillers, keeping him pretty sedated, but I did talk to him for a few minutes earlier this morning. He’s sort of in and out of it; you can tell he doesn’t have a lot of strength right now. He’ll be awake for a few minutes, but then he drifts off again pretty quickly.” There’s a pause before Steve continues. “He asked about you, Cat.”

My heart skips a beat, and I smile as my eyes water. “I want to come see him right now,” I say, my voice thick. I look at Vada, who nods eagerly, ready to skip out on our afternoon classes.

“Take your time; they just gave him some pain meds thirty minutes ago. He’s out cold right now and probably will be for a few hours, so no rush. Shane, my dad, and I are here with him.”

We agree that we’ll be heading to the hospital as soon as classes let out, and Steve hangs up to head back into Ronan’s room.

***

The next few hours pass with excruciating slowness, and by the time the final bell rings I have my bag packed and am the first one out of the room. I speed walk down the corridor, out the front doors, and to the parking lot. Tori had agreed to drive since Vada and I walked to school this morning, and I meet her and Vada by her Corolla three minutes later. Zack and Summer are going to meet us at the hospital.

Cheyenne declined to tag along, telling me, privately, that she was sorry for how she had acted toward me, that she could tell how much I cared about Ronan and him for me, and that she wanted to give us some space, but that she would visit him once he was released from the hospital. We ended up hugging before we headed to our classes.

“Is there always this much traffic?” I ask, tapping my foot on the floorboard of the passenger seat of Tori’s car. It’s slow moving, and I keep checking the clock on my phone every thirty seconds.

“We should be there in fifteen minutes, Kitty Cat.” Vada rests her hands on my shoulders from the backseat, giving them a painful rub. She’s obviously anxious, too.

It feels a lot longer than fifteen minutes, but we finally reach the hospital where Tori manages to find a parking spot close to the main entrance. We basically sprint through the automatic doors until the security guard gives us a disapproving look and we slow down to a quick walk. Knowing the drill well by now, we beeline it to the registrar’s desk, give our names and who we’re here to see, stick the visitor badges to our shirts, and quickly walk to the elevators that take us up to the ICU.

I rub my clammy hands on my jeans. “Why am I so freaking nervous?” I mutter more to myself than Tori or Vada.

“Probably because you’re not sure what Ran is going to be like when you see him again,” Vada says knowingly. “I mean, he’s had something really bad happen to him, right? Something so bad that it changes people. And, I think, maybe you’re worried about which version of him you’re going to get. I know I am…” She trails off, her brown eyes wide.

I stare at her. This was not what I had expected, but I think she’s spot-on.

She takes my hands into hers, stopping my fidgeting. “Don’t worry, Kitty Cat. It’ll be alright!”

I nod at her and take a deep breath. The elevator doors open and we march to the double doors, requesting entrance to the ICU through the com system.

My heart is absolutely pounding when we reach Ronan’s room. The curtains are drawn, limiting our ability to see in through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls and door. Ronan’s usual day nurse, Krista, is at the nurse’s station, and when she spots us she motions for us to go into the room.

Tori quietly slides the door open and pulls back the curtain, holding it for Vada and me to slip past her into the room. The shades of the window to the outside are partially drawn, dimming the brightness in the room. I’m vaguely aware of Steve and Shane, who are both sitting on the small sofa by the window and Ronan’s dad sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. The three of them are chatting quietly, their voices subdued.

As we enter, the conversation abruptly comes to an end.

“Hey guys,” Frank greets us quietly while Steve and Shane get up and move toward Vada and Tori.

I, on the other hand, immediately move to Ronan’s bedside, where I sit down in the empty chair and take his right hand into both of mine.

His hand radiates warmth as opposed to the coolness from the last week, but he no longer feels feverish. He feels… like Ronan. I search his face and immediately notice a difference. Aside from the bruises, which have finally begun to fade, Ronan isn’t as pale; some color has returned to his cheeks. He looks like he’s sleeping now—his face turned slightly to his right, less injured side—whereas before he looked lifeless, like his body was only a shell.

The nurse must have taken off the bandages last night because Ronan’s left eye is no longer covered by the sterile white gauze and tape. If I leaned in close enough, I would probably be able to count the stitches it took to sew up the laceration that stretches across Ronan’s left eyebrow and continues under his left eye. I wonder if this wound was inflicted with the hockey stick I saw, fractured and broken—like Ronan’s body—on the living room floor. For a second, images of Ronan’s mother crashing Ronan’s hockey stick into his face flicker across my mind’s eye, but I push the thoughts out of my head.

He’s still hooked up to an IV that slowly drips a clear liquid into his veins, and machines monitor his heartbeat, oxygen levels, and blood pressure, all of which have increased since I saw him yesterday evening. His chest rises and falls steadily, calmly as he breathes in and out, and it’s so comforting to watch. His left hand is still bandaged; his right knee, covered by the blanket along with the rest of the lower part of his body, remains immobile. His chest is exposed, and I notice that the bandages that previously covered the surgical incisions on his ribs and stomach were also removed. I can now see the inches-long incision on his left rib cage where they pieced his ribs back together and the smaller one on his stomach where they removed his spleen. His ribs are still severely bruised, and there are still cuts all over his body, but they’re healing well.

“How long has he been asleep?” Vada asks into the room, watching me watch Ronan.

“He’s been sleeping since I talked to you guys,” Steve replies, and kisses Vada’s forehead. Steve looks happy, as do Shane and Frank. All three have more color in their faces and their eyes are bright. I realize how much the last seven days—the uncertainty and worry for Ronan—have worn on everyone.

Franks stands up, stretches his legs, then moves to the other side of Ronan’s bed. He smiles at me before his eyes move to the monitors flashing Ronan’s vital signs. “The doctor came in about twenty minutes ago and she’s really pleased with Ran’s stats. If we can successfully manage his pain here over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, they’ll move him out of the ICU,” Frank says, sounding less tired than he has the past few days. It’s obvious that his youngest son’s health improvement has had an invigorating effect on him. He looks younger, too, his face shaved and no longer scruffy; he’s wearing fresh clothes and his brown hair is kempt.

“When do they think he’ll be able to go home?” I gaze at Ronan and those bruises, especially the one that basically took over the left side of his face. Though it’s beginning to change color a little from deep, dark blue to more of a green, it’s still prominent and startling. But his left eye is no longer completely swollen shut, and the cuts on his upper and lower lips are healing. I can finally recognize his handsome features again, and his full lips are enticing and as kissable as ever. I find myself yearning for him to wake up and kiss me.

“Not sure. I think he still has a long way to go before we can bring him home. His knee alone makes it almost impossible for him to move around. He’s going to be non-weightbearing for a while,” Frank says with a heavy sigh. “Listen guys, I’m going to go run out for a couple of hours to take care of some things. I’ll bring back some food for everyone. Will you guys stick around until I get back? Shouldn’t be later than maybe five-thirty or six.”

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