Tiffany awoke to the sound of someone singing "Uptown Funk". It wasn't Mark Ronson or Bruno Mars. It wasn't even someone who had a good enough voice to be a singer. As she gained clarity, she realized that it wasn't on the radio; the person was right there, singing to her. She could feel someone holding her hand. She opened her eyes and saw Scott standing over her. It was his hand and his voice. "You're awake!" he said excitedly but at a normal conversational level. He repeated himself, more loudly, "She's awa-," but he stopped himself.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"You were in a car wreck, and you've been in a coma for the past two months," Scott explained. He thought he heard some commotion at the nurses' station. "I have to be quick, so listen carefully. You'd just been to a clinic to find out if you were pregnant, and you were going to tell me the results when I got home from work. They couldn't tell me, 'cause I'm not the next of kin. I couldn't even ask, because if you are, they'd have to tell Mom and Dad. You're the only one who can ask. Okay?"
Tiffany gripped his hand and said, "Okay." Scott leaned down and kissed her just as a female doctor and a male nurse entered the room. He told the doctor, "Dr. Hazlitt, she's awake!"
Dr. Hazlitt turned to the nurse and said, "You were right, Kyle."
Scott looked at the nurse. He didn't have to say anything. Kyle explained, "Her vitals picked up. I figured it was either very good news or very bad news. I would have called Dr. Hazlitt either way, but I heard you just enough to suspect it was good."
Scott excused himself. "I need to tell Mom and Dad." He walked down the corridor to the recreation room. Both parents were at work, and he called them each separately to give them the good news.
When he walked back into the room, Dr. Hazlitt was talking to Tiffany. "This is HIPAA-type information," he told her. "Is it okay for me to tell you in front of your brother?"
"Yeah," she said.
"Probably not, but there's no way to know," Dr. Hazlitt said apologetically. "I can tell you that you aren't now. A day or two after they brought you in-I'd have to check records that aren't here at the moment-you shed your uterine lining. There was a lot of blood. Since no one had reason to believe that you were pregnant, we wrote it off as either a heavy period or a normal one complicated by the accident. If you'd been conscious, you could have told us what your periods are normally like. If you were pregnant and miscarried, it could easily have presented the same way. So, I'm sorry to say, we don't know whether you were pregnant when you came in."
Scott was standing behind the doctor. He gave Tiffany a look that showed that he was as disappointed in the non-result as she was. "Thanks, Doctor," he said. Dr. Hazlitt turned around. "Before the accident, she'd confided in me that she thought she might be pregnant, but I knew you couldn't tell me, and I was worried you'd have to tell our parents."
"If the answer had been no, I could probably have concealed the information from them with no one the wiser. If it were yes, I'd be obliged to share it in case it had any bearing on her treatment."
"Thanks for your honesty," Scott said. He went back to Tiffany, who was sitting up, and hugged her. "You're awake! Oh, thank God, you're finally awake."
Scott, Tiffany and the staff talked about different things for an hour before their parents arrived, Mom about fifteen minutes ahead of Dad. Dad told her that she'd have to make up her classes and graduate in December, but the two colleges she'd talked about were willing to let her start in January. Scott was overjoyed that his sister was okay, but it pained him that they couldn't talk about other, confidential matters. The staff was efficient and got Tiffany a solid meal for supper, no more IV's. Dad told Scott, "You've been here long enough. We'll stay a while." He reached into his wallet and handed Scott a credit card. "Get some dinner for us on the way home. Your mom and I will eat later." Scott wanted to stay, but decided it was better to go and not give away what had been happening before the accident.
Scott came in the next afternoon to see Tiffany. He'd only been in her room a few minutes when Dr. Hazlitt arrived. The doctor closed the door and addressed them both. "Neither of you has to say anything to me. Just let me talk for a moment. We dispensed of your flow the same as we would have any other patient's menstrual flow, but if we'd had reason to believe that it contained an embryo, we would have been required to hold onto it. Add to that, it's unusual for a sister to confide in her brother when she suspects a pregnancy that she's concealing from her parents. Usually, that's an indication that he's the father. I'm a mandated reporter of abuse, and our state has a reputation for prosecuting incest, even when the participants are fully consenting adults. So, I'm just going to tell you that if that's what happened, being in a coma is the main thing that allows me plausible deniability in not reporting you." She left to go on her rounds.
Scott turned to Tiffany. "So, you told me you'll be in rehab for a couple months, but when I asked how you were feeling, we were interrupted before you could say anything. Any pain?"
Tiffany answered, "Not the kind they can help with." She whispered, "I'm horny."
"Can't you masturbate?" Scott asked.
"I can't move my right hand well enough, and you can see the problem on my left." She held it up. The cuts on her index and middle fingers were severe, and they'd gotten infected, so they were bandaged together. They were also in a cast because they were concerned that nerve damage would leave them curved in like a fist. When Scott had held her hand, he had to bend his index finger down.
Scott closed the door. "I can help," he told her. He lifted her gown. Apparently she was far enough between periods that she didn't need underwear. He put his palm over her crotch. He started by palming her pussy. On one of his downward strokes, he lightly touched her perineum with his middle finger.
"There's a better place for that," Tiffany told him. He drew it up further and separated her pussy lips. He bent over and kissed her on the mouth. "Inside," she said hoarsely. He got it in up to the first knuckle. "More," she insisted. He pulled back and added his index finger. He went back and forth a few times, and she coaxed him, "Faster." At first, he just went deeper and stroked her walls, but when he pulled back, he went faster and faster. "Oh, shit, yeah," she cooed. "I wish I could get your dick in me right now." She thought for a second and asked, "You didn't, did you?"
Scott pulled his fingers out. "God, no! How could you think that?"
"You're right. I'm sorry. You probably didn't have a chance even if you'd wanted to."
"Well, in theory, I could have."
"How? When?"
"Sometimes I visited at night."
"That's right. They told me you came to see me almost every day."
"When I wasn't working, I'd come by in the afternoon. When I did work, I'd come by afterward. The park stays open late, so I wouldn't usually get here till after midnight. If I'd timed it right, I could have. But that's crazy talk."
"Okay, gimme your fingers again." This time he didn't do a build-up. He inserted the same two fingers and started pumping.
"I love that look of bliss on your face, Tiffany. Do you want more?" She nodded. He added his ring finger. He wanted to add the pinky, but he couldn't position himself comfortably. He did manage to stroke her clit with his thumb at the same time, though. She was trying to arch her back, but her strength wasn't back yet. Soon his fingers were covered in her juices.
"I hear someone coming," Tiffany said. "Quick, wash your hands."
Scott went into the bathroom and did as she said. When he came out, a nurse had come to the room. "I saw that your pulse was racing," she said.
Tiffany motioned to the nurse to lean in. "I was pleasuring myself," she explained. The nurse grinned and left. "What's so funny?" Tiffany asked.
"I'm just picturing you and your rehab therapist working on your goals. 'I want enough range of motion in my hand so I can make myself come. Then I wanna be able to reach up and lick my fingers afterward.'" At that moment, he got a notification on his cell phone. He looked at the screen. "We're close to our data limit this month," he said.
Tiffany snapped her fingers. "Text notification! Next time you come in, bring my cell phone."
"I didn't think you could do that," Scott said.
"I may need you to press the buttons for me," she said.
