Teenage baller Kaden Hastings has a fit when his family moves to California. He can handle the new medical diagnosis that slowly eats away at his life, but when his parents separate him from his teammates and girlfriend to move him to California to...
This sort of thing happens in movies and TV shows all the time, but I never really understood what it's like to wait for someone who might not wake up. Now that they brought him to the hospital in West Linn, friends come to visit, and I can actually leave if I want to, but that just makes me feel worse, especially since Mom hasn't even left his room, let alone left the hospital.
Jake and Lissa turn around the corner at the end of the hallway. They're back again. This is the third time they've come to visit today. I check my watch. 6:43 I stand still as Jake and Lissa reach Kaden's door.
"How is he?" Jake asks.
"The same," I say, and Lissa's face melts. So I add, "He moved again, a few hours ago. We thought maybe he would open his eyes, but . . ."
They turn toward the door, and I follow them in. Aunt Rosaleen and Mom are sitting on the chairs near the bed, talking in hushed tones. Mom smiles at Lissa and Jake, and then holds her hand out to me. I move closer and let her take my hand.
We all turn toward the bed and watch Kaden breathe. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing he looked hurt or sick. Then it would make sense. Instead, he just looks like he's sleeping, but when you touch him he doesn't wake up.
Lissa goes up to the bed. She takes his hand and in this small voice, she starts talking to him about stupid stuff, like what she ate for dinner and how it's Sunday, which means she has school tomorrow, even though she doesn't want to go, knowing he'll still be here, but she'll make sure to come visit him during her lunch break. Then with tears in her eyes, she leans forward and kisses him.
Jake doesn't say anything. He just walks up and stares for a while, and then goes for the door like he can't stand to be in here another second.
I drop Mom's hand and step up so that I'm blocking Mom's view of the bed. With Lissa watching me, I reach out to touch my brother for at least the hundredth time since the seizure at the basketball game almost two whole days ago.
I pinch the top of his hand.
Something in his face changes. I lean over him and pinch him again, on his wrist, as hard as I can. His hand twitches and his face tenses up. Lissa gasps and takes his other hand, while I keep on pinching him. My hand starts shaking, and I realize that I need to stop before I really hurt him. I let him go and watch the red splotch spread across his wrist. Mom will definitely see that.
I rest my elbows on the bed, slump over him, and whisper, "Sorry." But he still doesn't wake up.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
