Page 39 of Hearts to Mend

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Sleep is impossible when they’re checking on me minute to minute and then hour to hour. As soon as I drift off, they wake me again, performing tests to determine if my stroke symptoms are improving. They are. The partial blindness seems to be gone; the headache is gone too. The numbness on my left side has reduced to lingering tingles in my fingers and toes. The brain fog has mostly lifted, which is the biggest relief, though I still struggle with memory and recall.

The doctor says I’m lucky. All I feel is tired. Everything. Every damn thing is exhausting right now.

Getting up to take a piss a few hours ago was like a high school production of Shakespeare: awkward. I need to pee again, and the nurse brought me a little jug she called a “portable urinal” so I don’t have to get up again. I can just pee right here in front of everyone.

Yeah, no. I’ll hold it.

Mamá and Dee are finally asleep, each of them stretched out in one of the lounge chairs in my room. The chairs dwarf my mom, her feet barely touching the floor. And they’re too small for Dee, whose long legs stretch out in front of her. Having slept in one of those chairs when I’d sat in Dee’s hospital room a few weeks ago, I know from experience there’s no Goldilocks chair here.

There’s nothing to do but watch television. Normally, this would bore me, but tonight, as tired as I am, I just stare at the moving colors and faces. When there’s text on the screen, I struggle to read it. I can see the words—my vision is better now—but my brain can’t easily associate those words with what they represent.

I’m told this is what aphasia is, and so far, it seems to be the most significant lingering effect of the stroke. After staring at the television for a while, I tilt my head toward my mom, then look over at Dee.

I can’t stop wondering: Is she here out of obligation, or does she still care?

Obligation, obviously. I begged Dee to stay with me. I didn’t give her much choice. So now, she sleeps awkwardly on that uncomfortable chair. Yeah, I’m an asshole for pressuring her to stay. But every time I look at her, I feel better.

Outside, it’s first light, the town painted in dusty purples and pinks before the sun crests the horizon and it’s all awash in orange. All I can think about as I watch the sun rise is my little man. I miss him. I need to see him.

Dee and mamá were right not to bring him here last night, but the separation is difficult. Last night was the first time we’ve slept under separate roofs since I gained full custody. And since that day, I’ve made it a point to always be home for him at bedtime so he knows he’s sleeping in a safe, familiar home with a family who cherishes and adores him.

How did he do at Drew and Chloe’s house? Is he upset that I’m not there? After his brief stint in foster care, he’d had a few panic attacks and a lot of nightmares to overcome, but we’ve managed to do so with consistency and routine. He needs stability, not a slumber party at the neighbor’s house while his dad is hooked to a bunch of machines in the hospital.

And for my part, I’m as dependent on him as I imagine he is on me. I’ve wanted to see him so badly; all night I’ve longed for one of Matty’s smiles or even just the quiet peace I see on his face when he sleeps. But it wouldn’t have been right to drag him to the hospital at some ungodly hour, when he’s tired and I’m a mess. It would have only scared him.

Maybe it’s wrong of me to want to have him here with me at all, to witness his big, strong dad in this weakened state. But I’ve found that when it comes to Matty’s peace of mind, honesty is the best policy. So I texted Drew in the middle of the night—one eye closed as I focused on the keys of mamá’s phone, trying to remember how to spell the words I needed—asking him to bring Matty once he wakes up.

When I hear the knock at my door, I assume it’s the nurse again, here for another wellness check. Then the door opens, and I see Drew and Chloe standing there, Matty between them, and my heart sings. His eyes go wide when he sees me. He looks terrified, and I wish now I’d spoken to him on the phone first, before he had to see me like this.

I smile as best I can. “Hey, buddy, come on in. It’s okay.”

He comes to my bedside, staring more at his feet than at me, like he’s afraid of what I look like. I glance at the mirror over the sink and don’t think I look any different. But looking down at my arms, the blood pressure cuff, the dual IVs, the pulse ox clip on my finger, yeah, maybe it’s all a little scary.

I try to look extra healthy for him, picking him up and setting him on my lap. The IVs pull a little in at my elbows, but I just smile as I kiss him on the forehead and hug him close to me.

I feel a hundred times better having him here. And when he snuggles against me, resting his head under my chin, it’s like my heart explodes. I wonder if the nurses will see that as an anomaly on the monitors. I kiss the top of his head, breathing him in, and close my eyes, truly relaxing for the first time in hours.

After a moment, Matty shifts a little in my arms and plays with his wrist, still fresh out of his cast a few days ago, and asks in a hushed voice, “Daddy, did you get broken too?”

What a loaded question. I grin against the top of his head, then answer as honestly as I know how. “No, I just hurt my head last night. The doctors hooked me up to all these machines so they can see why it hurts and make it feel better.”

“Does it hurt now?”

“Nope! I feel much better now.”

Matty looks at me, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears.

Quickly, I try to lighten the mood. I turn my head so he can inspect the inside of my ear. “Can you see anything wrong in there?”

He grabs my earlobe and comes in close, his little breath tickling my neck as he peers into the darkness of my ear. When that’s done, I turn my head so Doctor Matty can inspect the other one. Once I have the all clear, I give him my most wicked grin, and then I start to tickle him. His laughter is like music to my ears, the cure for what ails me. Just five minutes with him, and I’m a new man. All better.

When his giggles subside, he asks, “When can you come home, Daddy?”

I love that he’s already calling mamá’s house “home.” A home was the one thing I couldn’t give him for a while, but finally, here in my old home, he has found his place too. “The doctors need to watch me for a little longer, but I’ll be coming home really soon after that. Is that okay with you, buddy?”

He nods, seeming satisfied with all the information I’ve shared with him so far. Only now does his attention wander to the other people in the room. Drew and Chloe had said they were going to the cafeteria for some food for everyone, leaving Matty and me with Dee and mamá. Matty practically squeals when he finally spots his new best friend sprawled over the too-small chair. “Dee’s here!”

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