Page 22 of Heart Strain

9

Holden

They took Hendrix off the coma inducing meds last night, and… nothing happened. Nothing changed. He’s still in a coma, he’s not waking up. And… all they keep saying is he’ll wake up when he’s ready. How the hell is that helpful?

I had expected him to wake up right away, and now that he hasn’t, I feel… lost. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help, I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again.

I need my brother back.

Wake the hell up, Hendrix Jay Weston!

… please. Please wake up…

After being in the hospital for hours on end, all I can do is stare at my brother. It’s cruel for him to be so close yet so far away. Why won’t he wake up? Is he going to be stuck like this forever? What if he’s stuck in a coma for a long time? What if he’s like this for weeks or months? Shit, what if it’s years? How am I going to handle that?

I look him over, and while he looks like me, I can see the differences, too. The biggest and easiest for everyone to see is his short-cropped hair compared to my long. Although, under the bandages around his head I can see that his is looking greasy and in need of a cut. But there’s also some small differences, like the scar on his right cheek that he got when he played baseball in ninth grade, and the scar I know I’d find on his left knee from when he fell off the swing set in our back yard when we were seven. There’d been so much blood that our dad had freaked out and took him to the emergency room when all he’d needed was a bandaid.

Taking a deep breath, I know that no matter how long he’s like this, I’ll never give up on him. I don’t care what I have to do or how much it’ll cost; even if I have to move back, sell my car, sell his house, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I have to. I’m going to fight for my brother, no matter what.

I look up at the ceiling to keep my emotions at bay as I repeat my constant mantra: Please wake up, Drix. Please wake up, Drix.

“Holden?” Jameson’s voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I look at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes roam over my face, and I’m sure he’s seeing the regret and grief there, but all he says is, “The shelter just called.”

I hadn’t even realized he’d taken a phone call. I shake myself out a little. “Are the kittens ready?”

He nods. “They said that since you checked out my house and told Laura that I’m good to go, they don’t need anyone else to come out for a home inspection, and that I can come get them this afternoon.”

“That’s perfect. We can let Peanut out, grab some lunch, then pick them up.” I offer a small smile, but as happy as I am for him, it probably doesn’t reach my eyes.

“Thank you for doing the home inspection. Laura said that it’d take at least another week to get someone out there, so you helped speed up the process.” He looks genuinely grateful and excited to be getting his kittens, so when I smile at him this time, it’s a real one.

“You’re welcome. She needs more volunteers, she always has,” I say, then look at the clock above Jameson’s head. “Do you want to head out now? It’s noon already.”

He nods. “If you’re ready to go. We can stay a bit longer if you want?”

I gaze over at my brother looking like he’s sleeping peacefully, and I sigh. “Do you think he’s ever going to wake up?”

Jameson stands and walks over behind me to put a hand on my shoulder as he whispers, “Yes. He has to.”

“They’ll call us if anything changes.”

“You don’t have to come with me if you think one of us should stay here.”

“No, I want to go with you.” I need to stop staring at Drix and crying. Being depressed and sad and angry isn’t helping anyone, least of all my brother. Jameson and I both need to get out for a bit and truly breathe. And baby animals will help with that.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He squeezes my shoulder and whispers, “Thank you.”

I nod and wish I could lean back into him, or better yet, stand and give him a hug. I wouldn’t mind being wrapped up in his muscular arms right now. And not only because they’re so muscular, but because I could use the physical contact. And the comfort.

After a few minutes of standing there like that with his hand still on my shoulder, he whispers, “Do you want to go?”

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