Page 42 of Heart Strain

“Hey, Drix. Come on, man. Your poor brother. Give him a break and wake up. Plus, my ass is getting sore having to sit in these hospital seats every day. I know you’re an attention whore, but this is ridiculous even for you.”

Holds elbows me in the side, but I can see the smile splitting his face as he glances up and down his brother’s body, looking for any other signs of movement. Finally, finally, Drix parts his lips enough to murmur sluggishly, “Will you two shut the hell up already?”

Thick laughter bubbles out of Holds like I’ve yet to hear, even when he’s made fun of me or we’ve been on one of our excursions. It’s a sound full of relief, joy, and thanksgiving. “Get a nurse, Foxy. Hurry!”

Tearing myself away from the side of the bed is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I want to stay and watch for Drix’s eyes to open, see him move, or hear his voice, but I know the brothers need this time together. Instead of calling for the nurse with the button hanging by the side of the bed, I run from the room down to the nurses’ station. If part of the reason I leave the room is because I’m scared I’ll see scorn and resentment flashing from Drix’s eyes, I shove that to the back of my mind. It’s not about my guilt right now. Drix is awake!

* * *

“No,no, Jameson. It’s my turn to go to the cafeteria and grab us something. You stay here with, Drix. You two haven’t had any time alone, yet.” Holden pats his brother’s hand as he passes the other side of the bed and out of the room. He moves so fast I don’t have time to protest. It’s been two days since Hendrix woke up, two days since the “morning after” between me and Holden, and two days since Holden slipped one time and called me Foxy in his excitement, but other than that, it’s been back to Jameson. As much as I wish I didn’t, I miss being his Foxy.

Reluctantly, I turn my head from the hospital room door and look back at Drix. We came in this morning to him more alert than he has been. It’s been a blow to all of us that he can’t move his legs, but after the shot to his spine, the doctors couldn’t predict the outcome until Drix woke up. Now, between just waking up from the coma, and the amount of painkillers that’s on a steady drip in his IV, he’s not able to stay awake for long periods of time, but he’s awake; that’s all that matters. “How you doing, Drix? You need anything?”

“What I need is to know why my best friend in the world is avoiding being alone with me. I had to ask Holds when you were in the bathroom to scram for a few minutes so we can talk. What’s going on with you, man?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, giving him as sincere a smile as I can conjure.

“I heard you, you know?” His eyes bore into mine. “At first when I woke up I wasn’t sure. I thought I’d imagined it, like it was a dream or something. But as Holden tells me things he talked to me about, the stories from our childhood that he shared, I know you said it over and over.” His eyes shut, uncertain whether he’s fallen back to sleep, I remain quiet. “I love you, too, Jameson,” he says as he opens his eyes after a moment. “You’re like a brother to me; you have been for years. Stop beating yourself up over me getting shot. Holds told me he’s told you it wasn’t your fault; now let me tell you. We’d been there before; it was a routine call; there was no way for us to know it would escalate like that. I’m just glad we’re both not in here. Now stop apologizing and asking for my forgiveness, as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Blinking back the tears in my eyes, I lean forward and grab his hand, whispering in a broken voice, “I know you say that, and thank you, but you’re my partn—”

He cuts me off, “That’s right, I’m your partner. Every single time you’ve made up a reason to leave the room in the last two days, Holds has told me how you’ve been by his side, looked out for him like I would and kept him from falling apart. He also told me you shot the guy and he died, but he said you haven’t mentioned it again since the first night.” I shake my head. “Have you talked to the shrink about it?” I shake my head, again, averting my eyes from his knowing ones. Yesterday when I’d gone in, I’d talked about how ecstatic I was Drix was awake, but also my fears that he’d blame me. “Jameson, you have to talk to somebody, man. I couldn’t have gotten through it when I shot that guy last year if not for getting professional help. Besides, how are you going to get back out there and protect our streets while I’m in here laid up if you don’t get put back on active duty?”

Finally, I admit the truth I’ve been hiding from Holden, Aiden, the therapist, and the department. “I’m not sure I can go back out there, Drix. What if I’m too late again? What if I let you, or whoever they assign me for now, get shot? I don’t know if I can do it,” I end on a whisper.

“Bullshit,” he says loudly. In his weakened condition, his voice has been a low rumble. This is the loudest he’s spoken since he’s woken up. “It’s not your fault I got shot. This is why you have to talk about it. You’re a damn good cop. You care about people; you care about our streets. Don’t forget why you decided to be an officer in the first place.” He gives me a pointed look. Only Drix knows exactly why I decided to apply for the police academy; he’ll never tell a soul, but he also won’t let me get away with disappointing myself, disappointing my father. Then in a quieter tone, he says, “Tell me.” My eyes widen as my body stiffens. He squeezes my hand in his. The tears finally spill as I register how feeble his grip has become, the power I’ve always associated with Drix’s body wiped out. “Come on, tell me what happened after I went down.”

Honoring his wishes, I pull my chair sideways and flush to the bed. After wrapping both his hands in mine, I say, “I saw you go down and yelled for you. When there was no response, all I cared about was making it over to you, getting it called in so we could get you help. I yelled out to him to drop it. I told him how it would go better for him if I could get my partner help or he’d end up facing charges for murder. At first it seemed like he was listening, he was lowering the gun, and I was trying to get around the back of the car to you. Just to make sure you were still alive, you know?” He nods, both of us maintaining eye contact. “Then I don’t know what got in his head. Maybe if he’d shot toward me, I could have waited him out, arrested him. But his wife ran out the door yelling at him and he shot at her. He was out of control and missed, but he was about to pull the trigger again, and she didn’t run back inside, so I… well, I…”

“You did what you had to do, Jameson. You know that, right?” When I don’t answer, he says, “This is why you have to go see the therapist. Get the help you need so you can get back out there. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t, either. Please, do this for me.”

“Okay,” I choke out through dry lips. Laying my head on his hand, I break. The tears flow for the excruciating recovery Drix is facing, for the people who loved the man I shot, the people who will miss him, but they’re not all sad tears. Some of them are for how grateful I am that whether I still blame myself or not, Drix doesn’t blame me. I hear his soft snores above me as my tears subside, but I stay where I am until Holden returns, pondering Drix’s words and my inevitable future.

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