Chapter 16

Adlan

The days that followed were a blur of emotions; anxiety, hope, despair, and determination.

Laura was a relentless being, with an all-consuming love for her brother and aimed never to leave the hospital.

I’m flattered by her strength and grittiness. However, I could tell that it was withering her on some deeper level.

Every time I went to visit, I saw her sitting in a chair next to Christian's bed, eyes red from exhaustion and face pale.

I just knew I should do something about it, even if it meant she should stop, but every time I suggested that she should discontinue, she shook her head and her eyes fixed and steadily fixed on her brother.

Laura, you have to eat someone, I told her one day at lunchtime, presenting her with a casserole from the cafeteria.

“I can’t,” she replied, her voice strained. “I just want to be here when he wakes up.

I laid out the food on the side table next to her. “He wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself. He needs you to be healthy too.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know. It’s just… I feel so helpless. I need to be strong for him.”

“You are strong, I said earnestly, crouching beside her chair. “But you’re human too. You can’t be strong all the time. It’s okay to lean on someone else.”

She looked at me, her eyes glistening. “I don’t want to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden, Laura. I care about you, and I want to help,” I comforted her. “I'd like to be here for you, just as you are here for Christian,"

She hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “Okay. Just for a little while.”

I smiled broadly because now she was willing to agree to my helping hand.

I left the chair, went to her side, and sat down, asking her to eat something. She hesitated to take the fork and cautiously nibbled on a tiny piece, chewing meticulously while I watched her.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? I said, trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled wryly, a smile that made my heart feel a warm fuzzy feeling. “You’re right. Thank you for being here, Adlan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

We ate in a comfortable silence, the tension easing slightly as we focused on the task at hand. When we patiently finished eating, I offered a short walk, through the hospital, for clearing of the head.

“I don’t want to leave him alone,” she protested, glancing at Christian’s sleeping form.

“I’ll stay here with him,” I offered. “You can take a few minutes to breathe. I promise to call you if anything changes.”

After a moment of contemplation, she nodded. “Okay. Just a quick walk.”

We entered the hospital hallway and I watched her let out a sigh, aches and pains dissolving in her back for that brief moment.

“I'm absolutely lost, it's like this now, she confessed while we strolled. I've always been the one looking after Christian, and now… I have no idea how to continue that, when he's the one who needs me.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” I said softly. “Being here, supporting him. That's all that matters. Just remember that you’re not alone in this. You have me.”

She turned to me, her eyes searching mine. “Thank you for saying that. I did not know until recently how many examples there are to "hear" it.”

We kept moving and I took her into a small waiting room with a backyard view of the backyard of the hospital and the sun beamed down, but the view of flowers opening outside was a beautiful reminder when contrasted with the antiseptic space of the hospital.

It's so pretty here," she remarked, settling down and looking out the window.

“It is,” I agreed, sitting next to her. “Sometimes, it helps to step away and breathe. Life continues to happen anyway amidst all of this.”

Laura nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I seem to have been too preoccupied to look after myself.”

“It’s easy to do,” I replied. “But you need to find a balance. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

She smiled politely in response to my statement, the tightness in her shoulders letting go as she paused to inhale the crisp air. “You’re right. I need to remember that.”

We sat there in quiet for a short time, the sun wrapping us in a soft blanket. I watched the gears spin each other into life in her brain, carrying the weight of the world off her shoulders.

“That's a pleasure, Adlan," she said in a low tone as she turned back to me. “I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I care about you and your brother. I’ll always be here for you.”

As soon as I stopped talking, a nurse came marching over to us, on a serious countenance. “Excuse me, are you Laura George?”

“Yeah, that's me, Laura,” she answered. Her heart thumped in her chest as she got out of the chair.

“We need you to come with me. There’s been an update on your brother’s condition,” the nurse said, her tone urgent.

I sensed my heart skip a beat looking at Laura with a worried expression. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice tense.

“Just step in with me, please." The nurse called, and then out to the hospital with us.

We dashed with great speed down the corridor, my mind swarming with conjectures. I pulled Laura’s hand as much as I could to simulate comfort to her.

As we entered Christian’s room, my heart dropped. The medical team was gathered around his bed, and the atmosphere felt heavy with tension.

“Is he okay?” Laura’s voice trembled as she stepped forward.

The doctor turned to us, his expression serious. “We’ve had a complication. Christian's condition has deteriorated and we are trying to remain stabilized. We need to prepare for the possibility of surgery.”

I felt my heart racing when I saw Laura, terror displayed in her very look. “What kind of surgery?”

“He has more serious injuries than we first realized and may require emergency surgery to stop internal bleeding,” the doctor said.

“He’s too weak for surgery!”

“We understand your concerns, but this is the best option for him right now,” the doctor replied, his tone gentle but firm. Action must be taken swiftly in order to provide him the best possible chance of recovery.

Laura looked at me, her eyes wide with fear. “Adlan, what do I do?”

“You support him, just like you’ve been doing,” I said, my voice steady. “Stay strong for him. He needs to know you’re there.”

Laura nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. I witnessed the horror in her stare, but also the power play.

“Okay,” she said, wiping her tears. “I’ll be here for him.”

Meanwhile, during the preparations of the medical team, I always stayed by Laura's side and kept holding her hand firmly. I couldn't get out of my brain the sensation of horror that colonized the space in my stomach while waiting for news to arrive.

“Adlan, what if something goes wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“And then we'll face it together,” I replied, doing my best to keep a controlled tone. “No matter what happens, you’re not alone.”

Minutes crept by, hour by hour, with an obvious fear of the outcome upon Laura's face. I wanted to reassure her, but the uncertainty of the situation loomed over us like a dark cloud.

But just then the doctor walked out of the operating room “The surgery went well. He’s in recovery now, but it will take some time for him to wake up.

Letting out a breath I hadn't known that I was holding, I saw relief wash over Laura's face. “Can I see him?” she asked, her voice filled with hope.

“Yeah, only for a little while," the doctor said.

While in the recovery room I observed as Laura went up to her brother, her heart bursting with solace and the feeling of obligation of love. I moved backwards, stepping in front of her, while she knelt down to talk to him.

“Christian, I’m here.” her voice, a shattered sound.

I certainly can imagine how that bond, that love, overwhelmed everything else, including fear. Right at that point I realized that, although there may be problems ahead, the problems will be faced together. I would be available to help them at all times.

While Laura gripped Christian's hand I got hope riding inside me and I would, along with them, weather the storm, and do my best to restore both of them to the good old days.