After filling me in on those details, Deck didn’t talk much. For hours, I sat in the same sagging slate-blue chair, watching as he moved from one seat to another, paced behind me, investigatedthe vending machines, flipped through magazines, and just generally fidgeted like a toddler drinking Mountain Dew.
We had been relegated to the main waiting area for the emergency room. We hadn’t received an update since our arrival, other than one doctor coming out early to inform us that Johnny was stable and that they were running tests and administering fluids. The ER stayed busy with Saturday afternoon triage. From my home base in the chair, I watched as a cavalcade of people—some clutching limbs, some sniffly and red-eyed, and at least a dozen doubled over in pain—came and went.
As the seats emptied throughout the evening and into the overnight hours, a nurse informed us we could see Johnny once they moved him to a room, something that likely wouldn’t happen until the next day. I’d expected them to revive Johnny and send him home quickly, which had happened before, but the doctors saw something in his initial results that prompted them to run more tests and keep him longer.
“I think the coffee cart in the main lobby is open twenty-four hours,” Deck said at around three in the morning. It was the first time he’d spoken in over an hour. “Do you want a latte or something? I remember you used to like the vanilla ones.”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
He nodded and walked through the glass doors into the maze of the main hospital corridors.
It was probably past time for me to tell him it was okay if he wanted to leave, but for the first time in a long while, I found myself reluctant to be alone. Even subdued, I liked knowing Deck was there.
I just needed to get used to this wary adult version of the boy in my heart.
He no longer had the slicked-back ponytail. His black curls were shorter, framing his tanned face and brushing hiscollar haphazardly. But even with less hair and little wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes, he still felt familiar, and his presence was a comfort.
If Britta and Marcus weren’t camping, I felt certain they would have been willing to sit with me at the hospital. There were acquaintances from JBC, particularly Jason and Brad, who would have come if I’d called. But nobody from my adult life knew much about my eating-SpaghettiOs-from-a-can childhood. They didn’t know about the extent of Johnny’s issues, and this didn’t feel like the time to introduce them to all-things-considered Cori. Hiding that piece of myself had been my habit for so long, I couldn’t even imagine it.
No. Even if it was incredibly awkward between us, and I had no idea what Deck was thinking right now, having someone with me who understood my past was a blessing.
My eyelids drooped, and I felt the adrenaline I’d lived on the day before leaving my system. I should have taken Deck up on his offer of a latte.
As if by magic, he returned carrying two cups.
“I got you one, anyway.” He shrugged. “You might want it later, or you can just throw it out if you don’t.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed the cup from his hand and took a grateful sip.
He surprised me by dropping into the chair next to mine for the first time since we’d arrived.
Gripping his coffee tightly, he said, “Look, Cori, I just want to say that I’m sorry this happened… That I didn’t help him more.”
I let my breath out slowly as I shook my head. “It’s not on you, Deck. I mean, I was eating burritos with him two nights ago, thinking he seemed fine. I didn’t stop this either. At the end of the day, this is on Johnny.”
I talked a good game. But deep down, I understood Deck’s sentiment. Logically, I knew it wasn’t my fault Johnny was anaddict, but I questioned if I should have done something more for him. I’d offered rehab in the past, but I’d never been able to convince him to accept my help.
“I’m not just talking about yesterday.” Deck slumped in his chair. “I should have seen it when we were kids, kept him away from certain things. When it started getting bad, I could have paid attention instead of always fucking around. I should have kept a better eye on him…and Eliazar.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes at his unexpected mention of Eliazar. He had been part of Deck and Johnny’s crew growing up and therefore a fixture of my childhood. The kid who always shared his candy and gave me rides on the handlebars of his bike. Small, with joyful brown eyes, forever drowning in his cousins’ hand-me-downs, Eliazar was everyone’s little brother, the follower. But he’d also been the first person who showed up when you needed someone.
“Deck, I don’t want to make this day any worse, but I was just wondering if you heard about—”
“Eliazar. Yeah.” He cut me off. “My pops told me. Wrote to me when it happened.”
I closed my eyes at the catch in Deck’s voice and the expression of pure regret on his face. He took a long pull from his cup.
“I don’t want Johnny to die,” I whispered.
Deck put his hand on the armrest of his chair, inching it sideways so our pinkies barely brushed. He left it there three seconds before pulling back.
Long enough.
Around seven o’clock in the morning, Deck looked dead on his feet, and we still hadn’t heard anything definitive from thedoctors. I thanked him for keeping me company, saying I could text him later with an update.
But when I handed him my phone so he could put his number in, he hesitated.
I sighed. “What’s the matter, Deck? Worried I’m going to try to sell you a timeshare or something?” It hurt that his instinct was still to keep his distance. “Are you kidding me right now?” I huffed. “Okay, fine. Apparently, you don’t want to know me anymore or whatever, but how else am I supposed to let you know how Johnny’s doing if I don’t have your number? Or do you not care?”
