Page 125 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“English, please!” I cut in, desperate to understand what Dr. Rhoades is saying. My brother, parents, and I are standing near the nurses’ station outside the operating room where A.J. is still on the table.
“There’s an accumulation of blood and air in his chest cavity, causing one of his lungs to collapse. Also his heart isn’t pumping efficiently due to the damage to the ventricle. The wound is severe; we don’t know yet if it can be repaired.”
“Oh God.” I clutch my mother’s hand.
“When I get an update from the surgeon I’ll let you know, but in the meantime, does he have a DNR?”
“DNR?” my mother repeats.
“Do not resuscitate,” explains my father. “She needs to know if he wants to be on life support or not.”
“Not only that, but what measures should be taken to revive him should he go into cardiac arrest—”
“Do everything!” I blurt, so loudly Dr. Rhoades blinks. “Do anything and everything you can to save his life! Do you understand me? Do everything!”
My father puts his arm around my shoulders. I turn my face to his chest and cry.
“She has power of attorney,” he explains calmly to the doctor. “Do whatever you can.”
“All right. I’ll let you know when I have more news. Do you have his healthcare directive with you by any chance? I’ll need to get a copy of the paperwork.”
“Here,” says Jamie, handing her the folder.
She nods. “I’ll just photocopy what we need and bring it back. You can have a seat in the waiting room and I’ll send it out shortly. Thanks, folks.”
She turns and walks briskly away. I know she must deal with this kind of thing every day, but I think she’s heartless.
Maybe that’s how you deal with this every day.
My family leads me back to the waiting room, and after we give the group the update, we all sit down in silent misery, to wait.
Four hours pass, then five. Nico and the guys bring in sandwiches and coffee from the cafeteria, but I can’t eat. I’m going over and over it in my head, everything A.J. ever said to me, every time we were together.
It all makes complete sense now. Everything makes awful, perfect sense.
The police take everyone’s statements about the events at the wedding. We’re told Eric was dead on arrival to the hospital. When I hear that, I feel nothing at all. Numbness has seeped into every cell and nerve of my body, and for that I’m grateful, because it’s the only thing keeping me g
oing.
Then, at exactly twenty minutes after two in the morning, Dr. Rhoades comes back.
Everyone stands. No one says anything. She looks exhausted.
Finally she says, “He’s in recovery. The surgery went well.”
My heart squeezes to a fist. “How is he?”
She looks at me. For the first time tonight, she manages to smile. “We think he’s out of the woods.”
Everyone screams. I start to bawl, sinking to my knees on the ugly gray carpet. Kat and Grace fall onto me and we crouch there in a sobbing huddle on the floor, three women in designer wedding attire with their arms around each other, crying their eyes out, until the doctor calls for everyone’s attention.
“If he remains stable, he should be moved into a regular room within the next hour.” She looks at me. “I’ll come and get you, okay?”
I stand, supported by Kat and Grace on both sides. Then I quickly close the few feet between us and throw my arms around her neck.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “thank you so, so much.”
She chuckles, patting my back awkwardly. “You’re welcome. But you should thank the surgeon. I’ll have him speak to you when he’s finished.”
