Running Home to You (The Running Series) (19 page)

When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to remember where I am.  It’s incredibly disorienting to wake up in an unfamiliar place.  Once realization sets in, I lean over to stroke Auggie’s arm.  I’m not sure if he can hear me, but I remember stories about how people in a coma still hear things going on around them.  “Auggie, it’s me, Jepetto.  I’m here.  I’m not leaving.  I love you, Auggie.  Rest and let your body repair itself.”

I look over to the monitors that show his heart rate and respirations, and I see Evan sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed.  He sits quietly, watching, listening, but not saying a word.  “Evan, you startled me.  Have you been here long?”

“A little while now,” he replies without an ounce of emotion.

“Thank you for coming,” I tell him.  “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Are you?” he asks.

“Of course I am.  I can’t believe you’d even ask me that question.”  I walk over to Evan and kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting my head on his lap and wrapping my arms around his strong legs.  “Evan, I need you.  Can we please call a truce?”

He doesn’t answer right away.  He runs his fingers through my hair and sweeps his hand across my back gently.  I close my eyes to enjoy the closeness with Evan that I so badly need right now.  I try to hold back the tears that threaten to burst through, and I can feel my breathing coming in uneven bursts.  I look up at Evan as a lone tear appears, sliding down my cheek.  Evan catches it with his thumb and looks deep into my eyes.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for crying?”

“No.  I’m just sorry.  I’m sorry this happened to Auggie.  I’m sorry I gave you a reason to doubt me.  I’m sorry you no longer trust me.  But mostly, I’m sorry I can’t seem to make you happy right now.”

“It’s not entirely your fault.”

“No, it’s not.”  I’m so glad to hear him say that.

“It’s Derek’s fault, too.”  Whoa.  Not what I hoped to hear him say.

“Maybe you’re right, Evan.  But don’t you think you could have handled things differently, too?”

“How?  Pretend I don’t see what’s right in front of my face?  Tell you that I’m okay with you spending more time with him than you spend with me?  Accept the fact that you keep pushing me away?  Just ignore how your face lights up when he puts his hands all over you?”  He pulls away from me and I feel like the air’s just been sucked right out of my lungs.

My phone rings.  I fish it out of my pocket and check the caller I.D.  I quickly decide not to answer it.  Instead, I silence the ringer and place the phone on the small dresser.  I have no intention of answering that call right now.

“Who was it, Juliette?” Evan asks.

“No one important,” I tell him.

Evan walks over and grabs the phone before I can stop him.  He takes one look and sees that the missed call was from Derek.  “Look, it’s your boyfriend,” he goads me.  “Call him back.  Invite him up.  It’s time for me to go, anyway.”  He turns and walks away, leaving me alone with Auggie, sleeping soundly as if he hasn’t a care in the world.  What the fuck just happened?

I
get calls and texts all night long, but I can’t bear to speak with anyone tonight.  The only calls I answer are from Lucas.  I know he’s not going to ask me any questions about Evan.  He just wants hourly updates on Auggie’s status.  By the time he calls for the fourth time, I have to tell him to stop calling.  I promise him that I’ll call if there are any changes. 

My mind is reeling all night long.  I catnap here and there, but for the most part, I stay up all night.  The most random thoughts fly in and out of my mind.

Will Evan still take care of Maddy while I’m here?

~of course he will, he loves her every bit as much as I do!

Would Evan move my things out of his room?

~I have no idea what he’s capable of right now.  He might.

What will we do about Rush if we break up?

~He might make me sell it because there’s no way I could buy him out.

Should we break up?

~No.  Yes.  Maybe.  No, definitely not.  Yes, neither one of us is happy.  Maybe, I don’t know.

Did we already break up?

~No.  He didn’t say it.  It’s not real until he says the words.

The nurses stop in every twenty minutes or so to check on Auggie’s vitals, to change his meds, and take care of all of his other medical needs.  Even if I wanted to sleep, I doubt that would be remotely possible.

Mr. and Mrs. Deegan arrive at five o’clock in the morning.  The doctor left orders for the nurses to start stepping down on the Propofol at six.  They arrive, but look like they haven’t slept much, either.  They bring me a fresh bagel, a chocolate chip muffin, and orange juice.  I thank them, but I have no appetite for food.

The nurse explains the process and how it could take quite a while for him to become fully alert.  Mr. and Mrs. Deegan insist I go home and try to get some sleep.  I consider the hour and decide it’s safe to go home.  Evan most likely left for the day.  Besides, I only need to stop home for a few hours.  Home.  Is it still my home?  What will I find when I get there?  Did he change the code to lock me out?  No.  At least I don’t think he would.

The ride home feels like an eternity.  I drive home without any music playing.  I need to be alone with my thoughts.  By the time I pull into the driveway, my head is pounding.  I get out and walk towards the garage to peek in the window.  Shit.  Evan’s car is still here.  I briefly consider getting back into my car, driving to Auggie’s, and crawling into my old bed.  In my current sleep-deprived state, I don’t think I could deal with a confrontation right now.  It wouldn’t make me appear weak, it would give me an opportunity to prepare for battle.  If we have any chance of making it through this, one of us has to keep our head on straight.

But then I look towards the front door.  A young pear tree stands there, barely old enough for its roots to have established themselves.  Until the roots grow deep and strong, a heavy wind could come and rip it from its foundation, forever destroying its fruitful promises.  Our tree, the one we planted together, needs more time to grow.  It needs sunshine and joy.  But it also needs clouds and rain – and plenty of it.  Without the rain, there would be no life.  Without the rain, there would be no rainbows. 

I steel myself for whatever may be awaiting for me inside.  I will not wither.  I will not hide from the rain.  There may be a hurricane brewing, or perhaps a drought.  Either way, I made an oath to Evan that I would never again run away from him.  I fully intend to keep that promise.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

I
open the door and before I make it all the way into the house, Maddy comes running up to greet me.  I bend down on one knee and give her a big hug.  She’s so happy to see me.  I need this affection, the unconditional love that everyone deserves.  Her love is more important to me than I realized, mostly because no one else ever has loved me the way she does, and perhaps no one else ever will.

Aside from the car in the garage there’s no sign of Evan.  I’m too tired to play detective.  There’s no note, so for now, this is one mystery that will go unsolved.  My bed is calling my name and I’m too tired, both physically and emotionally, to fight against the exhaustion I feel in every muscle of my body.

When my alarm goes off at noon, I shower, eat, and go to Auggie’s house to pick up a few things he’ll need once he wakes up.  I let myself into the house, find a suitcase, and begin to pack the essentials – everything from clothing and toiletries to electronics and charging devices.  I can just imagine Auggie waking up from his deep sleep and the first thing he asks for is his beloved iPad.  Besides, he’ll need it to Skype with Lucas when he’s ready.

As I walk around the house, I get a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I can feel my pulse quicken and an imminent feeling of sadness envelops me.  I check my phone to see if anyone is trying to get a hold of me, and there are no missed calls or messages.  If something were happening with Auggie, surely someone would try to contact me immediately.  I sit on the bar stool at the kitchen island and try to calm my nerves.  Why am I feeling this way? 

The house is quiet, too quiet in fact.  As I sit here, trying to regain my composure, I hear an ambulance drive past Auggie’s street with its sirens on.  My body reacts immediately and violently.  My muscles tighten and a sudden feeling of nausea overtakes me.  I run through the house as quickly as my feet will take me, and make it to the bathroom just in time.

As I’m sitting on the floor of the bathroom with my arms around the cool porcelain tank, I begin to understand my physical reaction today.  It’s this house.  This is where Averee DeVeau held Evan at gunpoint just a few months ago.  It was in this very place where she threatened to use the gun on both of them in order to end her suffering.  And it was in the kitchen where she attempted to slice her own throat with one of my butcher knives. 

I leave the bathroom and wander back into the kitchen.  I try to imagine what it must have been like for Evan.  He was trapped here with her for nearly eight hours.  I wonder what she said to him as she held the knife to her neck.  Why did Evan grab the knife from her the way he did, slicing his hand so severely that he jeopardized his own future in the NFL? 

As I’m deep in thought, I hear a car door slam shut next door, and I’m immediately brought back in time to the final minutes of the standoff when the police kicked in the back door.  I can vividly remember the images of the tactical force heading into the house in full combat gear, toting powerful rifles.  But what was it like from Evan’s point of view?  Did he hear them coming?  Did they overwhelm him and take him down for his own safety?  Were they pointing guns at him?

He never really talked about it, not to me, anyway.  I know he didn’t speak with his parents or his sister, either, because we’ve shared our concerns about Evan’s refusal to discuss it.  My worries began to vanish when, upon Evan’s insistence, we stopped asking him about it and went on with our lives.  He put one hundred percent of himself into his recovery, sometimes so deeply that he ignored me and everything else entirely.  I minded a little at the time, but frankly, I had a restaurant to open so I was busy, too.  Was I too busy to notice the signs?  Were there signs?  I don’t really know what I should have been looking for.  Is it too late?

I open up Auggie’s iPad and start to do research on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  There are literally thousands of sites with information on the condition.  I avoid the wikis, and instead, concentrate on the hospital and university sites.  The simplest definition I can find describes the condition as “an anxiety disorder that can develop after an individual has experienced or witnessed a major trauma.”  Well, if that doesn’t describe Evan in a nutshell, I don’t know what does.

I scroll down the page and it says that in order to be diagnosed with PTSD, an individual must demonstrate 3 or more symptoms that were not present before the traumatic event.  I read through the checklist, and at first, many of them do not really describe what I’ve been seeing.  But as I get further down the list, I start finding more than just three indicators.  The first one to catch my eye is
Nightmares
.  I know Evan’s been having nightmares; he’s woken me up numerous times.  But every time I ask, he says he cannot remember his dreams.

Next, they describe
Feeling Estranged or Detached from Others
.  Evan’s come right out and told me he thinks I’m spending more time with Derek than with him.  The fact that we eat dinner together every night and sleep together in the same bed is not sufficient.  He feels like I’ve cast him aside.

The next entry talks about
Angry Outbursts and Irritability
.  That’s the one that’s really piqued my interest.  It says that you might find some people snapping at others or getting extremely angry in situations that don’t rise to that level of concern.  The explosions are often unexpected and unsubstantiated.  Like when Evan freaked out just because Derek called me.  Overreaction.

There are others, too.  Adam keeps telling me how great Evan’s doing at practice, but that’s not the story I get from Evan.  He seems to think that the coaches and players are all waiting for him to screw up so they can get rid of him.  But according to Adam, the coaches are thrilled with him and are all very impressed with his improved skill, dedication, and focus.  Evan seems to be waiting for the hammer to fall, but there are no signs that it will.  The articles call that an
Impending Sense of Doom
.