Awake and Alive
Ashton, OR
June 2007
M AX STOOD by the cool glass of the hospital window, staring out at the all too familiar hospital parking lot. He tapped his fingers on the windowpane. Anxiety clawed at him. His jaw involuntarily clenched, his skin crawled, and every nerve in his body felt so tense his teeth ached.
Three hours. Three bloody hours for a procedure that was supposed to take two and a half. Goddammit, Jed. Hurry up.
Max crossed his arms and pressed his forehead against the glass. He was tired of watching the sun dance over the asphalt, but he couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t face the six matching expressions of concern behind him, concern that mirrored the barely suppressed panic he was beginning to feel.
Dan. Carla. Anna. Hector. Kim… Nick . They were all there, silent and waiting. Just like him.
Absently, he wondered if they understood the surgery Jed was having any better than he did. He’d tried, but the medical spiel went over his head. All he knew was Jed had nearly died in this building a couple of months ago, and it was too soon for him to be back. Never was too soon for him to be back. What if something went wrong? What if Jed never woke up from the anesthesia? What if there were complications and he ended up sicker than he’d been before?
“Afternoon, folks.”
Max spun around. Dr. Howarth stood in the doorway, smiling, his posture relaxed. “He’s out,” he said without preamble. “The procedure went well. He’s awake, sitting up, and already chucking my equipment across the room.”
Max let out a breath so heavy with relief he felt his shoddy sense of equilibrium briefly turn on its axis. He leaned back and sat on the window ledge. “He’s okay?”
Dr. Howarth nodded. “Yes. A little sore and woozy, but he’s all right. Max, do you want to sit with him?”
Max hesitated and glanced at Flo. She wasn’t allowed out of the waiting room, but he could see she was at ease, and in the past her intuition had proved the only thing he could rely on. Life had moved on since then, but he felt her calm seep into his bones and pushed off the window ledge. “I’m coming.”
He left the others to their own devices and followed Dr. Howarth through the surgical department to the recovery area.
Dr. Howarth stopped by the nurses’ station. “Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Max continued to Jed’s room and reached the doorway in time to catch him swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Already?”
Jed offered him a tired smile. “Stretching my legs.”
“How do you feel?”
“Stoned.” Jed held out his hand and beckoned Max forward. “Think I’ll feel it more when the opiates wear off.”
Max entwined his fingers with Jed’s and let himself be pulled close enough for Jed to press a soft and surprisingly sweet kiss to his cheek. “You don’t feel sick?”
“Don’t feel nothin’, babe.”
Yep. He’s definitely stoned. Max swallowed a laugh and let Jed lean on him. His head felt clearer now he’d seen Jed awake. “Any chance of you lying down?”
Jed made a noncommittal noise, and before Max could argue, Dr. Howarth entered the room.
The good doctor looked exasperated. “Do I need to put you in restraints?”
“You can try.” Jed’s response was muffled by Max’s shirt, but the message was clear: You will fail.
Max didn’t doubt it. Even incapacitated, Jed was freakishly strong. “When can he come home?”
Dr. Howarth sighed. “I was counting on you to back me up. How about you both stay put for a few hours, and if it all looks good, you can head home tonight.”
“Really? Tonight?” Max couldn’t hide his surprise. He’d expected Jed to be in the hospital for at least a few days. He’d even arranged for Desta, Jed’s young dog, to go and wreak havoc at Kim’s place. The spaniel pup was a wonderful dog, but left alone, he had a tendency to tear the cabin to bits.
Dr. Howarth picked up Jed’s chart and looked it over.
Ashton, OR
June 2007
M AX STOOD by the cool glass of the hospital window, staring out at the all too familiar hospital parking lot. He tapped his fingers on the windowpane. Anxiety clawed at him. His jaw involuntarily clenched, his skin crawled, and every nerve in his body felt so tense his teeth ached.
Three hours. Three bloody hours for a procedure that was supposed to take two and a half. Goddammit, Jed. Hurry up.
Max crossed his arms and pressed his forehead against the glass. He was tired of watching the sun dance over the asphalt, but he couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t face the six matching expressions of concern behind him, concern that mirrored the barely suppressed panic he was beginning to feel.
Dan. Carla. Anna. Hector. Kim… Nick . They were all there, silent and waiting. Just like him.
Absently, he wondered if they understood the surgery Jed was having any better than he did. He’d tried, but the medical spiel went over his head. All he knew was Jed had nearly died in this building a couple of months ago, and it was too soon for him to be back. Never was too soon for him to be back. What if something went wrong? What if Jed never woke up from the anesthesia? What if there were complications and he ended up sicker than he’d been before?
“Afternoon, folks.”
Max spun around. Dr. Howarth stood in the doorway, smiling, his posture relaxed. “He’s out,” he said without preamble. “The procedure went well. He’s awake, sitting up, and already chucking my equipment across the room.”
Max let out a breath so heavy with relief he felt his shoddy sense of equilibrium briefly turn on its axis. He leaned back and sat on the window ledge. “He’s okay?”
Dr. Howarth nodded. “Yes. A little sore and woozy, but he’s all right. Max, do you want to sit with him?”
Max hesitated and glanced at Flo. She wasn’t allowed out of the waiting room, but he could see she was at ease, and in the past her intuition had proved the only thing he could rely on. Life had moved on since then, but he felt her calm seep into his bones and pushed off the window ledge. “I’m coming.”
He left the others to their own devices and followed Dr. Howarth through the surgical department to the recovery area.
Dr. Howarth stopped by the nurses’ station. “Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Max continued to Jed’s room and reached the doorway in time to catch him swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Already?”
Jed offered him a tired smile. “Stretching my legs.”
“How do you feel?”
“Stoned.” Jed held out his hand and beckoned Max forward. “Think I’ll feel it more when the opiates wear off.”
Max entwined his fingers with Jed’s and let himself be pulled close enough for Jed to press a soft and surprisingly sweet kiss to his cheek. “You don’t feel sick?”
“Don’t feel nothin’, babe.”
Yep. He’s definitely stoned. Max swallowed a laugh and let Jed lean on him. His head felt clearer now he’d seen Jed awake. “Any chance of you lying down?”
Jed made a noncommittal noise, and before Max could argue, Dr. Howarth entered the room.
The good doctor looked exasperated. “Do I need to put you in restraints?”
“You can try.” Jed’s response was muffled by Max’s shirt, but the message was clear: You will fail.
Max didn’t doubt it. Even incapacitated, Jed was freakishly strong. “When can he come home?”
Dr. Howarth sighed. “I was counting on you to back me up. How about you both stay put for a few hours, and if it all looks good, you can head home tonight.”
“Really? Tonight?” Max couldn’t hide his surprise. He’d expected Jed to be in the hospital for at least a few days. He’d even arranged for Desta, Jed’s young dog, to go and wreak havoc at Kim’s place. The spaniel pup was a wonderful dog, but left alone, he had a tendency to tear the cabin to bits.
Dr. Howarth picked up Jed’s chart and looked it over.
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