"George, are you awake?"
The drugs had eased the pain, but they made me groggy, too. My eyes opened, and she stood there, looking sad and yet, concerned.
"Honey? Did I wake you?"
My mouth was dry. I rasped, "No, just resting."
She came up closer, by the pillow. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I'm sorry, I'm John's mother, Lorraine. I'm sure you don't remember me."
Of course I did, the Mother everyone wanted! As teens, we would always rank her Number One, but not when John was around, that could provoke a fight.
"Yes, I know, how is he?" I asked.
Her mascara was smeared from tears. That Movie Star face looked wracked with grief. "Not good, I'm afraid. In a coma, severe swelling on his brain. They don't know if he's gonna make it."
The accident was a blur. Coming home from work, close to midnight, a Black BMW had blown the Stop sign, not even tapping the brakes, and caught us just as we were passing, clipping the back end of John's Chevy van and sending us spinning, until we slammed into a utility pole.
The pole crashed down onto the van, and sparks were everywhere. My door flew open from the impact but my leg was broken, bleeding. John was unconscious. His head was bleeding. I got one foot out and thanked God I wasn't electrocuted. Then I unhooked John's seat belt and got him out, too. The engine caught fire, right by John's seat, and we both lay on the ground when someone pulled us further until the ambulances came.
Naturally, in the cops' mind, two twenty year olds must have been drinking. Tests proved we hadn't. In fact, the driver of the Beemer had suffered a stroke, causing him to run the Stop sign.
I never lost consciousness, but it was still fuzzy, so much happening, so many voices. I had surgery. Pins were placed to hold the leg together until the bones fuzed. Without any real family left, Mrs. Pina, John's mom, was my first visitor.
"He'll be okay," I assured her. "John's tough, he'll bounce back."
She smiled, sadly. "Yes, if it's God's Will, he'll pull through. Anyway, I wanted to stop and thank you. They told me about you going back in for John, how that explosion was right where he had been sitting."
"People exaggerate. And he would have done the same for me. We're buds!"
She squeezed my hand as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Thank you, George, I... I'll be back in the morning, they're gonna try surgery to relieve the pressure tomorrow. I'll make sure I stop by to check on you and let you know how he makes out." She kissed my hand. "Can I bring you anything? Magazines? Puzzles? No??? Okay, then, I'll let you rest. Thank you, George, goodnight"
I felt better the next day, a cute Candy-Striper came by, made my day flirting with me, even though she was probably 16! But she was eye-candy, anyway. I had a TV and was able to sit upright. The cast was to my upper thigh and itched like crazy.
Around 3PM, Carl from work stopped by, with a card from all the guys and some Playboys and Hustlers. He had tried to see John, but he was still in surgery. His mom said it was 7 hours by then.
Night fell, dinner was edible because I was starving. The Head Nurse stole a Ham and Cheese sandwich for me, and I never tasted one better.
Visiting hours ended, and still no sign of Barbara, Mrs. Pina. I asked the head nurse if any surgery was still going on and she assured me, they were done for the day. Before her shift ended at Midnight, she had checked with Intensive Care nurses, knowing my concern.
The nurse should have been gone for the day, but she came in, saw I was still watching TV, and gave me the bad news: John had died on the table, after 9 hours of surgery. All efforts to revive him failed.
The days passed, boring days of therapy, strengthening, and stretching. I missed the wake and funeral. In fact, the following day, I was released, able to get around the house on crutches, if just barely. The hospital had a car service that used mini-vans to transport patients, and the nurses gave me big hugs and best wishes, and off I went.
My landlady, Harriett, had signed for the groceries I ordered, and had put them away for me, so I was good to go.
It was good to be home, mail piled high, but it could wait, I was exhausted just from the trip!
I eased myself into the tallest straight-back chair, and sighed, finally home. Of course, the phone rang at that minute, and I said fuck it, they could leave a message, reminding myself to always keep the phone handy until I was back on my feet.
Ten minutes later, I heard a tap on the screen door. "Hello? George?"
"Yes, come on in, it's open!' The door closed, I heard shuffling, and in the doorway stood John's Mom, Barbara. She wore black. Very subdued compared to her usual Latina Flash. "Hi, did I come at a bad time?"
I tried to get up, to welcome her. "Oh, no, please, sit! I just wanted to apologize about not stopping back to see you."
I settled back. "You had plenty on your mind. I'm so sorry to hear about John."
She nodded gravely, moving to a chair. "May I sit?"
"Please."
The stylish black dress might have been considered too short to some, but not on Barbara. She smoothed it as she sat, and crossed her legs, black heels dangling from her feet. "Yes, that night, I had to be sedated. I was exhausted, physically. I would have been no good as a guest to you. And then with family all over for the funeral, I couldn't get over to see you."
