Finally Home

32. Tyler

Jenna made me come talk to this doctor that came into Sam's room this afternoon. I didn't want to leave Sam's side. I had to apologize until she woke up. I needed her to forgive me. I needed to know she didn't hate me. Everyone else hates me. I can see it in their eyes when I look at them. They don't look at me often but when they do, I see the accusations in their eyes. It's my fault Samantha is lying there.

"Mr. Joseph, why do you think it's your fault? The police report says you were turning on an advanced green when your truck was struck by the truck."

"No. No. It's my fault. I went into the intersection too fast."

"Mr. Joseph, you had an advanced green light. You had the right of way."

"She was dead. I killed her. She was dead."

"Tyler, can I call you Tyler?"

I nodded.

"Samantha is very badly hurt. But she is also alive. The truck that hit you was speeding, the driver hadn't slept in nearly 36 hours and didn't see the light was red. You had the light and you did nothing wrong. Your family has been trying to get you to understand that none of this is your fault."

I shook my head.

"They hate me. They all hate me. I can see it in their eyes."

"No one hates you, Tyler. They're worried about you. Your wife told me about some of your struggles with mental health, and they are worried about you."

I looked up at the doctor. I could see it in his eyes, too.

"You hate me too," I said.

"Tyler, I don't hate you. I'm here to help you. You're spiralling into a depression and you're feeling extreme guilt from something that was not your fault."

"It is my fault. If I hadn't taken that route, if I hadn't been at that corner at that time, Samantha would be okay."

The doctor looked at me. I looked back at him, but then looked away. I looked around his office.

"Do you have kids?" I asked him.

"I do. Brian, my oldest, is nineteen and studying pharmacy at FSU. My youngest, Ella, is fifteen and in high school."

"Do you know that your job is to protect them with everything you have, right?"

"Of course. We do our best as parents to protect our kids."

"Well, I didn't do a good enough job. Samantha came to us completely by accident. She was running away from her abusive father and wound up in our backyard. We adopted her. We chose to be her parents. Then, he got her. He took her from us."

"Who?" The doctor asked.

"Her father. He kidnapped her because we didn't protect her."

"But you got her back."

"She was so sick. And then Jenna got pregnant with Rosie and Sam thought we were going to get rid of her. She overheard something Jenna said and she ran away. She went to her thinking spot. But when Jenna found her, Samantha startled and fell into the river. She nearly died then. And in California, she drowned and we nearly lost her because I couldn't protect her. And that night she nearly drowned again because of secondary drowning. I knew something was wrong because I knew I didn't protect her well enough. And she nearly died then, too. And now I got her hit by a truck."

"Tyler, you and your family have experienced a lot of things most people don't. It's not surprising that you would feel the weight of this and blame yourself. But it is not your fault. I can get you a copy of the police report."

I shook my head. I didn't need to read that it was my fault.

"Tyler, if the truck driver has admitted that he was at fault, would that help you understand that what happened is not your fault?"

I shrugged.

"I brought her to Cleveland and I took her to the game."

"No one can predict accidents. That's why they're called accidents. They happen. Samantha is getting wonderful care, and from what I've been able to see on her chart, she is stable. Her injuries were pretty severe, yes, but she just needs time to heal."

"They can't even tell us if she'll wake up. Nothing has changed in a month. She can't breathe on her own, she can't open her eyes. She can't squeeze my hand. She can't move on her own. She needs machines for breathe for her. She needs tubes to feed her and take waste away. I did that to her."

"You didn't. Look, Tyler, our time is up, and I'm going to talk to you again tomorrow. And the next day and the next day. Tomorrow I'm going to have you read the police report."

I stood up and went out of the office. Josh was standing there with a smile on his face.

"How'd it go, bud?" He asked.

"Fine," I said. "He hates me. Like you all do."

Josh sighed.

"No one hates you, Tyler. I don't know why you're so intent on believing that. We love you and we're worried about you. We don't blame you."

I shook my head. Of course they blame me. I blame me.