The Lucky Ones(82)

“My name is Allison and my foster brother is a patient here. I was hoping I could see him. Antonio Russo.”

The nurse’s eyes widened slightly, as if Allison’s request was unusual. Then she politely held up her index finger to indicate this would take a moment before she disappeared into another room.

The nurse returned shortly, wearing a smile.

“I apologize for the wait,” the nurse said. “He’s never had any visitors before, so I was under the impression he wasn’t allowed any. But he is, I’ve been assured, so we’ll have an orderly come and take you to him. I’ll just need to see your ID and have you sign in.”

Allison had to sign more paperwork than when she’d bought her car. She barely read the forms she signed. They all seemed to be full of legalese. She had no intention of suing the hospital if a patient up and decided to throw a punch at her. She wasn’t scared of sick people. If she’d been living in a hospital for fifteen years like Antonio, she might feel like throwing a punch or two herself.

A young orderly in blue scrubs arrived shortly thereafter and led her through double doors into the main wing. She’d thought that behind the doors she’d find where the money ran out and the elegant lobby would reveal itself as a front for the cold, metal-barred institution she’d been expecting. But it wasn’t the case. Even behind the ward doors, it looked like a five-star hotel. The floors were dark wood and freshly polished. Windows let in light and the few rooms she could see into looked homey and warm. No bare cots in sight.

“This place must be expensive to stay in,” Allison said to Michael, her orderly escort. He gave her a tight smile.

“I’m just glad I work here,” he said. “I couldn’t afford to live here.”

“I guess it’s where rich people go when they get sick?”

Michael nodded, then lowered his voice. “Rich or important,” he said. “Safe to say we don’t take Medicaid.”

Allison had to wonder how Antonio’s family was able to pay for a place like Fairwood. She knew from personal experience rich kids didn’t go into foster care. At least, none of the kids she ever met in the system came from wealthy families. If the kid had money, there was a relative somewhere willing and ready to take them in. Did the same person who paid for Kendra’s house pay for Antonio’s stay here? Was that person Dr. Capello? Allison hated to think so, but she couldn’t deny it was the most likely answer.

Michael led her through another set of double doors into a narrower hallway and another wing.

“It’s quiet in here,” she said, glancing around. The silence was far more eerie than the noises of the other wards.

“This is the wreck ward,” he said in a low voice.

“Rec ward? Like recreation?”

“No, with a W. Wreck. Surgical wrecks. Mostly PVS patients.”

“PVS?”

“Persistent vegetative state. PVS sounds nicer than calling them vegetables. Wreck doesn’t sound very nice, either, but that’s what the docs call them.”

“So Antonio’s considered a wreck?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know? You’re his sister, right?”

“Foster sister. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” She hoped Michael wasn’t good at spotting lies. “Is Antonio...is he a PVS patient, too?”

“Tony? No. He’s here because something went wrong during a childhood brain surgery. Doc either cut too much out or didn’t cut enough. His mind wanders a lot and he’s got impulse-control issues now, which is why we have to keep him mostly sedated and in restraints. He’s a sweet kid, really. Can’t help himself. But keep a little distance from him, for your own sake.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

He pointed at a door, dark wood, like the hallway. Michael knocked, and when there was no answer he scanned a key card on a panel, opened the door and went inside ahead of her. Allison peeked in and saw Antonio lying on his side away from her in a hospital bed. The room was bare of knickknacks or flowers or anything personal at all. Antonio wore gray sweats and white socks and what looked like cloth shackles on his ankles.

“It looks like a prison cell,” she whispered to Michael.

“His room and board is paid for. No money left over for decorating,” he said. “You can go in. He’s awake.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Tony’s good,” he said. “Just remember what I said.”

“Keep a little distance.”

“That’s right. Buzzer is by the door when you’re ready to leave. I’d say no more than fifteen minutes with Tony. He might not stay awake for you that long, anyway.”

“Is there anything else I need to know about him?” she asked. “I didn’t know he was here until today. I don’t want to upset him or hurt his feelings or anything.”

Michael gave her a kind but almost patronizing smile.

“He says anything and everything on his mind. Don’t take it personally. But as for hurting his feelings, he’s been stuck here most of his life,” he said. “And he’s probably going to die in here. You can’t hurt him more than life has.”

Michael held open the door for her and Allison went inside.

Nervously, she walked around the hospital bed until she stood three feet from where Antonio lay facing the open window.