While I Was Away(5)

Charlie could admit it, he was terrified. Her father was a large, intimidating man; the quintessential girlfriend's-scary-father. Her brothers were more of the same. The youngest played hockey for the Penguins; a big guy who looked like enforcing came naturally to him. The second oldest worked construction, and the oldest was a police officer like his old man.

Adele was the baby of the group, by six years. They all doted on her and her condition rocked the family. All three of the Reins brothers stood in silent horror over their sister, saying prayers and talking to her. But Mr. Reins, a seasoned veteran of the Philadelphia Police Department's homicide division, broke down in sobs. Knelt at his daughter's side and wept for her.

His best friend may have been the one in a coma, but Charlie felt like he was living in a nightmare. He was in constant fear that one or more of her family members would suddenly realize the entire situation was his fault, and would then commence with beating the shit out of him.

Though really, he knew it was silly to feel that way – the Reins treated him like a member of the family. His own parents were divorced and distant, they didn't put in many appearances at the hospital. The Reins, though, rented a vacation home and insisted he stay with them, at least until “Adele comes home”.

Which was looking more and more like it wasn't going to happen.

Most of her injuries were healing at a very rapid rate – “she's always been exceptionally healthy, she plays volleyball!” Janet had informed the doctors – which was a good thing. They were able to remove the breathing tube and dial back her medications. She could breathe without any assistance and her organs could function on their own. Her bruises began to fade. Her breaks began to heal. Her body, relatively speaking, was fine.

Her brain, however, was a different story. She wouldn't wake up. Nothing they tried worked. Terms like “anoxic brain injury” were said, phrases like “deprived of oxygen” and “brain cell death” were tossed about as if anyone could understand them.

Suddenly, the question came about that if Adele woke up – if, not when – would she be “normal”?

“Will my baby have brain damage?”

Only Janet had the balls to ask, and only Janet had the balls to really listen while the doctors told them once again “we just don't know”. The five men in the room sat or stood in silence, too scared to ask any questions of their own.

They were all told about statistics. The longer Adele stayed in the coma, the worse her chances were for coming out of it. The lower the odds that if she did come out, she'd be the same person. They were told to have faith. To Pray. To hope.

Hope.

Charlie did not have much hope.

His injuries started to heal, too. His hand was beyond fucked up – some gravel had gone straight through his palm. He needed physical therapy, so he spent a lot of time at the hospital. A lot of time with Adele. If none of her family was there, he'd pull up a chair and sit at her side. Do his hand exercises while he watched her face.

I let us fall apart, didn't even put up a fight, and this is my punishment.

“We never should've dated,” he sighed one day. “You were too good for me. Why did you pick up the phone when I called?”

“I told her not to.”

The voice came out of nowhere, startling him. Charlie leapt out of his chair, knocking it over backwards in his haste. He growled and held onto his hand, which he'd banged against the rails on the bed. When he looked up, he saw Zoey Blanke walking across the room, giving him a little smile. He glared back at her. She was a close friend of Adele's, but not his – they'd never really gotten along. He was pretty sure she never got along with anybody.

Except Adele.

“What do you mean, you told Adele not to pick up the phone?” he asked.

“She was too good for you,” she echoed his earlier statement with a shrug. “And I knew it.”

“Get fucked, Zoey,” he groaned.

“If it makes you feel better, I think Adele's too good for everybody – including myself. How's my girl doing?” she asked, moving around to the opposite side of the bed and looking down at her friend.

“Pretty much exactly the same as she was last time you were here,” he sighed. Zoey pouted her lips, then reached out a hand, brushing some hair away from Adele's forehead. Her thick brown hair had been left untouched by the surgeons, thankfully.

“She looks happier today,” Zoey whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly before moving over to examine an IV bag.

“Did you really tell Adele not to answer my phone call?”

“Of course,” Zoey answered automatically. “You were a douchebag club promoter, I thought you were skeezy the first time I met you.”

“Skeezy!?”

“I didn't know you owned the club you were promoting. You were just some greasy guy sniffing around young women at a bar, I thought she could do better.”

“It's always a joy running into you, you know that? Especially now, when every day is so goddamn wonderful. I always think to myself, you know what would be a perfect addition to this moment? If Zoey fucking Blanke would come in here and kick me in the balls a couple times while my best friend lies in a fucking coma!”

Charlie was yelling by the time he got done speaking. Zoey raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, not even when a nurse leaned in the doorway and told them to keep it down. Charlie just glared right back at her, breathing heavy.