It’s been a day. Or a week. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here or for how long I’ve been awake.
The clock doesn’t really matter in the ICU; it’s all just time layered between significant medical events.
Seizure.
Stroke.
Flatline.
Revive.
Collapsed lungs.
Erratic heart rate.
Kidney failure.
Heart attack.
Flatline.
Revive.
Assess. React. Revive.
Assess. React. Revive.
“Miss Edwards,” the doctor says to me, “Troy’s had a rough go of it, and we need to stop the seizures. We’d like to put him into a medically induced coma.”
“How does that work?” I ask. “Like, how do you make it happen?”
“We’ll administer a drug until we see a specific pattern in the electroencephalogram—EEG for short.”
“That’s the thing that monitors his brain waves, right?”
“Exactly. Our goal in doing this is to protect the brain. As you know, we think Troy might have woken up for a brief time today.”
“Right, he came out of the coma. And, now you’re saying that you want to put him back in one?”
“Yes, because we think it will stop the seizures.”
“And how long will he have to be in one? Like, how long can you keep him in one?”
“It varies by patient, but I think, in his case, it could be as long as a month. The body is powerful. It wants to survive, to heal itself. We want to do everything in our power to help with that. The seizures will continue to stress both his body and his brain.”
“That makes sense. Okay, questions: do you think he can hear me? Do you think he knows that I’m here?”
“I believe he does know.”
“Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t mean you need to be here every second.”
“I can’t leave yet.”
“And I can’t imagine what it must be like for you to have to make medical decisions for someone who must have hurt you. You have a good soul, Jennifer.”
Devaney
Damon and I are about to get dropped off at home from celebrating Christmas with our mom and Richard. And although we actually had a surprisingly good time, I’m ready to go home.
Jennifer has group-texted us a few little updates. Most of them trying to convince us that she’s okay.
But as we walk in the house, Damon and I both look around in shock.
There are piles of beautifully wrapped presents under and around the tree. There are domed cake stands on the island, filled with Christmas treats. I go into the kitchen and open the fridge.
“Look at all this food she made for us,” I say to my brother.
“It was supposed to be our first Christmas together,” he says, shaking his head. “Stupid Troy.”
“Yeah. Let’s take our stuff up to our rooms and then go over to the Mackenzies’ house,” I suggest, but when we get to the stairs, I can see the dining room. “Look at that.”
We drop our bags and peer into the room.
Damon goes, “Whoa. That’s so Jennifer.”
“It is,” I agree, taking it all in.
She’s got the table already set, and it’s adorable. There’s a red-and-white-striped tablecloth, and layered on top of it are red metallic chargers, red-and-white-polka-dot dinner plates, and Santa salad plates. Little red mittens with pom-pom trim hold the silverware, and the napkins are green-and-white check. There are centerpieces made from candy canes and red silk flowers. Hanging from the new chandelier is a crazy explosion of ribbons, bows, ornaments, and white boas. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. And you can be sure, no designer helped her with this.
It’s crazy, over the top, and perfectly us.
“She’s going to be stuck in LA on Christmas, all alone,” Damon says.
I glance at my watch. “And we have just enough time to do something about it.”
We race over to the Mackenzies’ and tell Auntie Jay our idea.
“I like it,” she says, “but I’m not even sure if our pilots are willing to leave home on Christmas Eve.”
Chase sticks up for me by saying, “Mom, if I recall, Mr. Larry’s kids are going to be with their mother this year. And Mr. Mitchell and his family already had their Festival of Lights celebration for Hanukkah earlier this week. Maybe you could sweeten the deal by putting them up at a really nice hotel on the beach.”
“My dad would gladly pay for that,” I agree.
Auntie Jay raises an eyebrow at me. “Your dad doesn’t know anything about this wild plan.”
“You’re going to have to come see this then,” I say, grabbing her by the arm and leading her out the door with Chase and Damon following.
“Oh my,” Auntie Jay says, tears filling her eyes. “She went all out, didn’t she?” She takes out her phone. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
A few moments later, she hangs up, and I already know based on what I overheard and how she upped the ante that it’s on.
“When Jennifer and I were shopping the other day, she bought new plastic totes to store all of this decor in after the holiday. Dani, go find them and then pack up all this dining room decor. Damon, go get the big Yeti cooler out of the garage, put some ice in the bottom, and then fill it with all the food she made, and be sure to get what’s in the freezer. For the treats that don’t need refrigeration, put them in the reusable shopping bags from the grocery store. Chase, find something you can put all the tree decor in. Pack up the gifts. We’re taking it all. Set everything by the front door when you’re finished. I’ll round the other kids up and get our stuff packed, and we’ll plan on leaving”—she glances at her phone—“in two hours. If we time it right, we can meet the team plane at the airport. Your dad can hop off it, onto ours, and we’ll take off.”
“Oh crap,” I say. “Can we even get in?”
“Jennifer’s been letting me stay at her house when I travel there for work. You’re lucky because I have a key.”
I throw my arms around Auntie Jay and hug her. “I’m glad you didn’t think it was a crazy idea.”
“Oh, I still think it’s a crazy idea,” she says, kissing the top of my head. “But, sometimes, crazy is good. Although I think you and Damon should be the ones to spring this news on your dad.”
“I will call him right after his game. He’ll be happy, won’t he?” I have a moment of self-doubt.
“Yeah, sweetie, he definitely will.”
“Oh my gosh, I just remembered. What about the ring? Dad was going to propose on Christmas morning!”
“I think, with everything that’s going on, he might want to postpone that. Do you know where he hid the ring?” she asks.
“It’s in my room.”
“Zip it somewhere safe in your backpack and bring it with.”
Jennifer
“Miss Edwards, there’s a very persistent man outside who would like to speak to you. He said his name is Jason.”
The doctor, who is standing near Troy’s bed, reading through all the reports and assessing Troy’s condition, nods at me, letting me know that I can go. “Your chair will still be there when you get back.”
“Can I bring him in here?” I ask.
“If you’d like. Is he family?”
“No. But he’s all the family Troy’s got.”
I go out to the waiting room to find Jason. He looks distraught.
“I’m sorry for all that I said. I’m sure my unloading on you was the last thing you needed at that moment.”
“It’s okay. I completely understand. I felt the same way after Amsterdam and the suicide attempt.”
“He’s manipulated us both,” Jason admits. “We probably need to announce something in the press. There’s a lot of speculation going on right now.”
“I feel like I’ve barely had a moment to breathe since I arrived here, whenever that was. It’s been one scary moment after the next. Would you like to go inside? He responded to his name earlier today, but they are going to be putting him into a medically induced coma here at some point. I’ll warn you though; he’s a mess. Lots of tubes, ventilator to help him breathe, and he’s been having seizures.”
“Yeah, I would.”
I walk Jason into the ICU. There’s only one chair, and we have to leave a lot of space around the bed for the doctors and nurses to maneuver, which has been often, so I let him spend some time alone with Troy.
What he said was true. I should make some kind of statement. Or maybe just a simple social media post. I think about what I want to say. Part of me wants to do a transformation shot. Troy onstage, lights around him, bigger than life, and on top of his game and then what he looks like now. His grayish skin. The tubes and wires. I want to show people what happens when you’re reckless with your life.
Reckless.
That word makes me think of Danny. From the note on the crazy Halloween bouquet he sent me to our toasts and the way I decorated the dining room before I came here. We really haven’t been reckless; it just feels that way because we’re finally happy and in love. And maybe that’s why Troy was reckless. Maybe he kept looking for something he couldn’t find at any cost.
No. No Before and After photo. No trying to teach anyone a lesson.
Just a simple post.
I pull my phone out and study a photo of Troy from a few years ago. He looked healthier back then, and I realize that he was declining before my eyes. It makes me feel guilty.
But I can’t change the past. Even though I wish I could. And if I could, we all know where I would go back to.
That night on the beach. But part of me wonders, if I did, if I would appreciate Danny and our love as much as I do now.
I close my eyes for a moment and then twitch, realizing I almost just fell asleep. Standing.
Maybe I should go sit down.
I post the photo and try to figure out what to say.
As you have probably heard, my former love, Troy Malone, is currently in the ICU, fighting for his life. I’m here with him. And it’s been really tough. Hard to see a man who seemed larger than life reduced to this.
For the most part, Troy hid his addiction to alcohol pretty well. When he added drugs into the mix, our relationship was forever changed because of it.
I was at this very hospital about thirty days ago because Troy wrote a suicide note and took some drugs. I flew to LA because I believed it to be a dire situation. What I found when I arrived was him sitting up in his bed, laughing. And I was so mad. I told him that he was in charge of his life now and that I hoped he would do something good with it.
After that hospital stay, he checked himself into rehab for thirty days. He recently got out and I was told that he was doing well. Feeling in control of his life for the first time.
I don’t know what he was thinking. I’m not sure I ever did. But I do know that his situation is critical, and all we really can do now is pray.
Jason comes out of the ICU, red-eyed and looking shell-shocked. “Do you feel incredibly guilty?”
“Yes. I’ve asked myself over and over what I could have done to help him more. I also sort of saw you as the bad guy, pushing him.”
He shakes his head. “I thought the same about you. Troy pitted us against each other on purpose to shift blame from himself. He didn’t want to take responsibility for his actions with either one of us. Much easier to tell you I was pushing him and he was doing the best he could. It made you feel sympathetic toward him. At least, that worked with me. I was so happy he was going to rehab. I wanted so badly for him to perform in Vegas. I wanted that gig for him. For you. Sure, I’d have earned money from it, but it’s not why. I could have booked a multi-city Euro tour and earned the same. I thought it would give him a more stable life while still allowing him to feel the glory of the spotlight.”
He breaks down, throwing his arms around me. “I thought I could help him. I really did.”
“This isn’t our fault, Jason.”
Once he composes himself, I show him the post I saved.
“I like it. It’s heartfelt.”
“Thank you. I’ll post it now,” I say, hitting the button to do so. “I also really appreciate you coming here.”
“I was driving my wife nuts,” he admits. “She sent me out for eggnog even though we have two gallons in the fridge. She knew I needed to come here.”
“And, now, you can go home to your family and be even more grateful for them.”
“You’re right.” He starts to leave but then turns back around, handing me a book. “I almost forgot. I stopped by the house. Found this notebook by his bed. He had it with him that day we had lunch. He said he wrote letters and songs and lyrics in it while he was in rehab. Thought you might like it.”
“Thanks, Jason,” I say. “And merry Christmas.”
I take the notebook and go back into the ICU room where I curl up in the hard leather chair and open the book.
Two hours later, and I’m crying. There were notes to me—some begging for forgiveness, others saying he hated the sight of my face. There are emotional lyrics showcasing a variety of feelings ranging from the deepest love to the lowest in self-loathing. His words are tragic and beautiful. They touch places in the core of my being. They are pieces of a tortured life of lavish wonder.
But it’s the end that upsets me the most.
Maybe because I know they might be the last words I ever hear from him.
Fuck this shit. I’m going out and having some fun. Live or die, what difference does it make?
I’ve lost the only girl who made a difference.
And, regardless of what I’ve told her, I know deep down that’s all on me.
I feel my phone buzzing on my lap.
“How’s he doing?” Danny asks when I answer.
“Sort of better, sort of worse. They put him in a medically induced coma because he was having so many seizures, which is good because it has stopped the seizures. The bad news is, they don’t know if he will ever come out of it or if his brain will even function properly. I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me about your game today.”
“We won. Last-second field goal. Have you gotten any sleep?”
“Uh, a little.”
“Why don’t you go home and sleep in your own bed? Even if it’s just for a few hours. You don’t want to get run-down and sick. There shouldn’t be germs in the ICU.”
“I don’t know,” I say, worn out from even thinking about it. “I’d have to get a car and—”
“I have a car and driver sitting outside the hospital right now, waiting to take you home. You know, it’s Christmas Eve. Santa won’t come if you don’t.”
“I should make a naughty comment about that, but I don’t have the energy,” I say with a little chuckle.
“That’s exactly why you need to go.”
I look over at the nurses’ station. “You know what? I think you’re right. Thank you for setting up the car for me. That was very thoughtful.”
Troy’s shift nurse steps into the space.
“Sorry, I know I’m not really supposed to talk on the phone while in the ICU, but a friend of mine called because he sent a car to drive me home. Thought I could use some sleep. Do you think it’s okay if I’m gone for a little while?”
“Of course. We have your number and will call and update you on any major changes in his condition.”
I find the driver easily. He’s in the lobby, holding up a placard. It doesn’t have my name on it, rather just the shape of a diamond. Which makes me smile. He hands me his driver’s cap and a pair of reading glasses and suggests that I tuck my hair up underneath and put on the glasses, as there is quite a bit of press milling around outside.
His simple trick works. No one pays any attention to us as we leave out the front of the building.
The second I get in the car, I must fall asleep because when I’m nudged awake, the car is in my driveway.
I let out a relieved sigh. The sight of my home instantly improving my mood.
“Thank you so much,” I tell the driver, giving him back his belongings. “I don’t have any cash. I’m sorry. Let me go in the house—”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Mr. Diamond has taken care of everything. You get some rest.”
I thank him and let myself in through the garage. The first thing I notice is the smell.
Probably the neighbors all cooking their Christmas Eve dinners, I think.
But as I approach the door leading into the mudroom, I hear the yip of a puppy.
What the heck?
Devaney opens the door. “Angel heard you come in.”
The dog runs toward me. I lean down and pick her up, allowing her to lick my face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her. “How did you get here?”
“Why don’t you come into the kitchen, and I’ll explain?” Devaney says.
“No, you won’t!” Damon yells out. “It was my idea.”
When I step into the kitchen, I can’t believe my eyes.
Danny is here. Phillip and Jadyn are here. All the kids are here. Both dogs are here.
And my house is decorated.
What looks like the tree from Kansas City is by the fireplace. The table is set for breakfast with all the dishes I bought. Even my chandelier has all the crazy ribbons and bits that I put up there.
“Merry Christmas!” they all say.
I get a group hug from all the kids. And kisses from both puppies.
Tears threaten. I push them back, not wanting to lose it.
“I can’t believe you did all this.” I’m astonished.
“The pilot thought we were a little crazy when we brought our Christmas tree in the plane,” Damon jokes.
“We waited for you to eat dinner,” Danny says. “It’s set up in the dining room.”
“I must look like a mess.”
“You look perfectly fine,” Jadyn says. “And you’ve got to be hungry.”
“We thought we’d eat and each open one present, and then we have to get to bed,” Devaney says. She turns to me and whispers, “At least, the little kids need to think we’re in bed.”
“Come on,” Phillip says. “Everyone, go take your seat.”
Everyone files out, leaving me and Danny in the room. He’s a couple feet away from me, and I’m just staring at him, wondering how in the world I got so incredibly lucky.
I shake my head at him, tears filling my eyes. “This is crazy. I can’t believe you all did this.”
He nods and takes a step toward me. I’m pretty sure if he touches me right now, I will both simultaneously fall apart and be put back together. Back together in a different way than I was before. The pieces adjusted so I perfectly fit into his life now.
He wraps his strong arms around me and pulls me close. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this alone. But know that you’re not alone. Even when we’re not together, me, the kids, the Mackenzies, our friends, we’re all”—he leans back a little and looks into my eyes, and then he grins—“your offensive line. Our job is to love and protect you. That’s why we brought Christmas to you. And I’ll be honest though. I can’t take credit for any of this. The kids came home from their mom’s and saw all that you had done. How much you care about all of us. They immediately went over and told Jadyn their plan. I was informed of it after the game. Told that, as soon as my team plane landed, I was to get off, run over to their plane, and get on board, so we could take off. They packed it all. Brought it all. I did help decorate here. I knew it was going to be our first Christmas together. I’m excited actually that it’s here. This house symbolizes your new beginning. Our new beginning as a family.”
“Oh, Danny,” I say, pressing my lips to his.
“We’re ready to eat!” Damon yells from the other room. “Stop making out and get in here.”
“Damon,” Devaney admonishes.
“Never a dull moment,” I say, putting my hand in his. “I just realized how hungry I am.”
I perk up a little after the wonderful meal and enjoy watching the children each open a present. Phillip brings me a glass of wine and a piece of the chocolate peppermint pie I made.
“Thank you. For all of this. How did you get this all here?”
“You’re welcome. And some really big coolers. You look tired.”
“I am more worn out than sleepy. The last however long I’ve been here have been very up and down for me emotionally and for Troy physically.”
Jadyn plops down next to me. “This pie is freaking delicious!”
“Which is why I’m taking Jennifer’s,” Danny says, snatching my plate.
“What are you doing? I want that.”
“You are coming with me. I ran you a hot bath, and you can eat it in there. Then, you are going to bed. Santa won’t come if you aren’t in bed.”
I burst out laughing.
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” I reply as he takes my hand and leads me to the master bedroom.
