Texas Rain

The Texas rain was relentless; the bright lights of the Trans-Am coupled with the hail overwhelmed my senses. I covered my ears and closed my eyes.

I felt myself floating in a sea of blood. Blood rained down on me. The waves crashed against me and covered me. I tried to scream for help, but there was only silence. I tried to flip over so I could swim away, but I couldn’t move.

The silence was replaced by the sound of rocks being thrown into a bucket, and I was able to open my eyes. I was in a hospital bed next to a window. I could tell that a storm was raging outside, and a machine next to me was making pinging sounds.

The gray of the ceiling revealed no details. I tried to sit up, but my shoulders had been immobilized. “Hello?” I could barely say the word. I doubt anyone heard it. I felt something going up my nose. It felt as if it went down my throat. I felt sick to my stomach. The world seemed to be spinning.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone come close to the bed. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake.” I heard the mechanism of the bed activate, and I was soon in a sitting position. The man wore white scrubs with bunnies on them. My name’s Elliot. I’ve been watching you on the evening shift for the past four weeks.”

I noticed a blurry figure come into the room and stand behind Elliot. He seemed to blend in with the gray of the room. My neck was stiff, I had trouble looking around.

Elliot continued. “Your doctor’s been called, and we’ll see what he wants us to do. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Elliot walked out of the room, and the blurry figure moved closer and came into focus. It was Scott Morgan.

I looked into his eyes. “Tyler,” I croaked. It was barely audible.

Was he crying? Or were my eyes too blurry to tell?

“We’re going to take care of you. Don’t worry.” He turned quickly and left.

“Tyler.” I wanted to see Tyler. Just trying to say his name took almost energy than I had. Why wasn’t he here? Where was he?

The next two weeks were filled with excruciating pain. My physician, Dr. Keebler, told me that the force of the impact with the truck had bruised my brain and put me into a coma. I had a feeding tube that had to be removed. I hope I never have to have another one. I had a catheter that had to be removed. Fucking hell that hurt. I resolved never to stick anything up my pee hole on purpose.

The muscles of my arms and legs had tightened during the coma. Even though Elliot and the other nurses had worked them, I had trouble using them. I had exercises to do to increase their flexibility and get my strength back.

Although none of the muscles in my shoulders had been torn, most of the bones in my shoulders demonstrated stress fractures. Until the fractures had healed, my shoulders were immobilized. I had to have someone feed me, at least it was no longer with the feeding tube.

Every time I saw someone I didn’t recognize, I asked about Tyler. No one knew anything. They even denied having seen Scott Morgan. Why would I hallucinate that? If I were going to hallucinate someone, it would have been Tyler, not Scott.

I asked whether Tyler could have been sent to a different hospital. No one had any ideas; no one would help me find out. I asked about my cell phone. I was told that I was brought in without one. There seemed to be answers to all my questions, and those answers were a roadblock to my finding what happened.

I even asked whether my grandmother had been notified. That piqued their interest. There was no quick answer to that one. Dr. Keebler told me she would have the staff inform her. Two days later, Elliot told me that police had found her unconscious in her home, and she died a few hours later. A stroke had killed my grandmother, not unexpected for her age, but something else to overwhelm me.

I wanted to mourn for her, but all my feelings were with Tyler. Why could I not feel his presence? My left brain told me that he was gone; that’s why there was a void. My right brain told me not to give up on him. There was a reason they didn’t know anything about him or said they didn’t know anything about him.

My heart wanted to believe there was a conspiracy to hide Tyler from me, but I also believed Elliot. I truly believed him. He was here to help me. I felt stronger each day. My legs started to work again. I was able to walk to the rehab room. I started sneaking out of my room and walking the halls.

I began to realize that I wasn’t in a regular hospital. I seemed to be the only patient on the floor, and the elevator required a key card. The stairways had key card access as well. Was I in some sort of prison? That was ridiculous; this was clearly a medical facility.

“Why are all the exits locked?” I asked Elliot the next time he came into my room.

He seemed surprised by the questions. “They aren’t locked; they’re just secured. If there were a fire or something, you can just push the latch on the doors to the stairwells, and they’ll open.”

“And sound an alarm.”

“Of course,” he said with such practiced banality. “You don’t want unauthorized people getting in. It keeps us safe at work.”

“Same thing for the elevators, huh?”

“You’re not supposed to use the elevators in an emergency,” he scoffed.

“Where’s Tyler?”

“Are you back on that again? You’re never going to see Tyler again. Get over it.”

I backed away from him. He knew something. Why would he be so sure that I wouldn’t see Tyler? Suddenly, tears filled my eyes; I started to sob. “He’s dead, isn’t he. Why won’t anyone tell me the truth?”

Elliot was glaring at me. “I’ll get you a pill so you can calm down.”

I realized I couldn’t trust him. I took a deep breath and wiped the tears away. “I’m fine.” I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. “I’m just stressed.”

Elliot continued his stare. The word mercenary popped into my head. How does one deal with a mercenary? Mercenaries are only in it to get something. What would this guy want? “I’m just really, really stressed. You know, I haven’t been laid in a really long time. I was used to having sex every day (that was certainly an exaggeration; God forgive my use of hyperbole). Tyler gave such great blowjobs, and he had a nice tight ass if you know what I mean.” I smirked.

He grinned. “Yeah, I do.”

I walked closer to him and whispered, “Is anyone watching me in this room? You know, late at night, when I’m sleeping.”

“I don’t think so.” His grin widened.

I lowered the volume of my voice even more. “So no one would see you,” I paused, “and me, if we, you know.” I touched him just above his groin.

He mouthed the word “fucked” and raised his eyebrows while dropping his chin.

He must have thought that was a sexy move, but I wanted to laugh at him. I made a small circle on his chest with my finger, and I smiled. “I think I should go to the rehab room and get some exercise in.”

Elliot smiled back. I had noticed the missing molars on the top left side of his mouth and how yellow his teeth were. I fought back the urge to throw up. I walked out of the room and toward the rehab room. I needed to come up with a plan. I had no intention of any intimate contact with that man.

Rehab went well. I went back to my room and had dinner, took a shower, and peeked out into the hall. No one was at the nurses’ station, so I slipped out to check the room behind the station. I struck gold. Clean scrubs were stacked in cubicles on one side of the room. I changed into a pair. My feet posed a problem, so I searched the lockers and found some sneakers that were a size too big. I couldn’t find any socks, but those were the least of my worries. I wanted out of this place, and lots of men go without socks, so hopefully, no one would notice.

I thought about setting off a fire alarm, but that might get the nurses looking for me. I had looked around the room for a security card; I hoped someone might have forgotten one, but I came up empty. I decided to hide in another room, sleep there if I must, to avoid Elliot. I went to the far end of the hall, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Maybe it wasn’t luck, maybe God was watching out for me. I said a quick thank you prayer as I pushed open the stairwell door that had been left slightly ajar. No alarms sounded.

Once inside the stairwell, I listened. I could hear people above me. I could also smell cigarette smoke. The assholes on the landing above were smoking.

I told myself, ‘Quiet. Don’t sneeze. Don’t cough.’ I just listened and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. They were callous assholes.

“He’s a vegetable. I don’t care what the scans show. He just lies there.”

The other one interrupted. “But he’s in traction; he’s just going to lie there, you fucking idiot. Anyway, they're doing another scan to see how his bones are healing. One of his doctors is hoping he can get some therapy before his muscles atrophy too much.”

“He’s lucky his daddy is rich. Most of the time, they send the vegetables to that clinic in Fort Worth where they shrivel up like prunes.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s enough money on the planet to fix his face.”

The first one sounded surprised. “What’s wrong with it? I know it’s bandaged, but I thought that was from brain surgery to reduce the intracranial pressure.”

My knees were growing weak.

“Naw, man. His face was cut up bad. You could hardly tell he was a person. Anyway, I need to get back on duty.”

I heard the door close. I looked down the stairs; that was my way out. I looked up the stairs. Had he been upstairs the entire time? I didn’t even have to think about it. I headed up the stairs.

I had hidden next to a cylindrical container just beyond the stairwell. There was a rolling cart with boxes of bandages and what I thought could be isopropyl alcohol. I walked up to the cart and pushed it down the hall, slowly enough to examine my surroundings but hopefully not too slow as to draw attention to myself. There weren’t many people in the hall, and they seemed occupied with their own little tasks.

I felt my hands stiffen as I approached an open door on the left and saw the name ‘Tyler’ written in dry erase marker on the whiteboard next to the doorway. I took several steps forward so the cart was in front of another room. I parked it there and walked back to the doorway with Tyler’s name on it. Without any hesitation, I slipped into the room.

The room was dimly lit; the same gray color I’d spent the last few months staring at covered these walls, too. I could hear the rain outside, and I could see a figure in the hospital bed near the far wall. Cables were attached to the arms and legs, and the head was covered in bandages. One closed eye and the figure’s mouth were not bandaged. I immediately recognized Tyler’s lips, lips I had kissed so often. I bent forward and touched his lips to mine.

“Tyler, baby, I found you.” Did the muscles of his mouth respond to me? Did I see them twitch because I wanted it so badly? I saw the fingers of his left hand and lower arm were bare. I reached to hold them in mine. I kissed him again. “Oh, sweetheart, how I’ve missed you.”

The heart rate monitor began to beat more rapidly. I stopped and listened. The pace of the beeping continued. I looked at the monitor screen. The heart rate read 62 bpm.

“I love you so much.” I gently squeezed his hand. “I wish I could get next to you and cuddle you the way you like it.” Did the blanket of his crotch just move? I put my hand where I thought I saw movement, and I felt his penis under the blanket. I’m sure it thickened in my hand. The heart monitor showed 64 bpm.

“Someday, we’ll do that, too. I need you to get better.” I heard the rain fall faster against the window. “Listen, Tyler. The angels are crying tears of joy because we’re together again.”

I was sure he tried to move his head. “That’s right, baby, I’m here. I’m waiting for you.” I kissed him again. “I need you so much. Please come back to me.”

Hail began to pelt against the window. “Heaven’s rooting for us.” A large lightning bolt illuminated the room, at the same time a thunderclap shook the walls. I gasped as I saw a man standing about five feet away. It was Richard Morgan.