Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 38

    The sun was just beginning to set when Ronnie awoke, turning the hospital curtains fiery orange. He blinked blearily for a few seconds, trying to orient himself, and his stomach rumbled unhappily - it must be dinner time. Groaning quietly, he looked down, a soft smile spreading across his face at the sight of Brandon fast asleep, pressed against his side, his head tucked firmly into Ronnie's chest, clutching Ronnie's hand loosely in his own. His face was soft and childlike, relaxed in sleep.

    "Oh, good, I just came back, I was just about to wake you - my shift is almost over," Mandy whispered, approaching the bed on quiet feet. "I'm really not supposed to let anyone sleep with the patients, but..." she shrugged, gazing down at Brandon, her eyes softening as she took in their intertwined fingers and Brandon's head resting on Ronnie's chest.

    "How long has it...?"

    "Oh, really not that long, actually - only about half an hour. It's alright. He needed you."

    "Can you help me...?"

    "Of course, of course." Very carefully, the nurse removed Ronnie's hand from Brandon's and eased her patient away from Ronnie, doing her best to disturb him as little as possible. Slowly, Ronnie shuffled to the side of the bed, and accepted his crutches from Mandy. As he stood, a small voice spoke behind him, soft as a breath of wind.

    "Ronnie?"

    Turning back to the bed, Ronnie smiled at his friend, his hair tousled in sleep and his eyes still dim and foggy - Brandon was clearly on the edge between sleep and waking.

    "Yeah, B?

    "Ronnie...n-no - don't - p-please d-don't tell T-Tana...what I t-told you. P-Please. Promise."

    Huh? Ronnie had just opened his mouth to ask what Brandon meant when everything came back to him at once, and a sick feeling rose in his stomach, horror bubbling at the memories. Oh. Oh God.

    "Bran, I can't - I can't..."

    Tears welled up in Brandon's eyes, and he struggled to sit up, rubbing the sleep and the tears from his eyes.

    "Please, Ron - I - I told you, not her. She can't...she d-doesn't...she doesn't need to be dealing with me. Please. I c-can't...I can't keep hurting her...p-please. I told you. I - I trust you."

    "Bran, she'd understand, you know - "

    "Exactly! R-Ron, p-please, I can't...no - I k-keep hurting her, I see it, and I c-can't... I'm only m-making her worse. P-please, Ron, she can't - she c-couldn't - no, please, it would b-break her." Brandon's wide eyes pierced Ronnie's heart, fear and guilt and agitation and such incredible sadness in them that they took his breath away.

    Oh my God, Brandon, why are you making me do this? Ronnie sighed, dropping his eyes from Brandon's pleading face and staring at his shoes in silence, listening to his friend's frantic, shaky breathing as he waited for his response. Loyalty to Brandon and horror at the seriousness of his confession warred in his gut. 'I trust you.'

    "Please, R-Ronnie?"

    A deep sigh burst from his lungs, tension releasing in one long breath. "Yeah, Bran...yeah, I won't tell. It's okay."

    Relief painted Brandon's face, banishing the darkness of the anxiety that had been there a moment before. A beautiful smile, a slice of sunshine, split his face from ear to ear.

    "Thank you. Th-thank you."

    "Yeah," Ronnie said gruffly, leaning down to kiss the crown of Brandon's head, flattening an unruly curl with his lips. "I love you, Bran. Get some rest."

    "Love you," Brandon said simply, sinking back into his pillows and watching as Ronnie and Mandy left him alone, closing the door softly behind them.

    In the hallway, Ronnie turned to the nurse with wide eyes, running his hands through his hair. "Mandy, God, he wishes he was dead, what do I...I have to tell - "

    She shook her head violently, holding her hand up to stop him. She gestured down the hall and started walking, leading Ronnie away from Brandon's room. When they were firmly out of earshot, she turned back to him.

    "Mr. Vannucci, it is not your responsibility to tell anyone. I've already passed what he said along to his wife and to the rest of his care team, it's alright. It's not...it's not your job to break his trust, Mr. Vannucci. It's okay."

    Oh, thank God. Ronnie released a shaky breath that he hadn't even known he was holding, relief blossoming inside him.

    The nurse twirled a strand of hair anxiously, glancing down the hall in the direction of Brandon's room. "Honestly, Mr. Vannucci, we aren't surprised. It's...depression, suicidal thoughts - it's a very, very common effect of serious brain injuries, and he's been displaying signs of it all along.

    "It's - well, it's like he said, actually - the injury sort of splits their lives in two. There's the self they were before the injury, and this new, different person afterwards. It's very distressing, you know, it's horrible - to realize that you aren't in full control of your mind or body anymore, and that you might never be again - and that even your doctors aren't certain how much you'll recover. To remember how it felt to be a fully functioning person, and to now be trapped by your own mind, so limited, and so...hyperemotional - it's a terrible fate. He knows he never used to react like this, he knows it's not normal, but he can't help it."

   Ronnie took a deep breath, fighting a rising lump in his throat. God, what he's going through...I can't imagine. "How do you...he needs help, Mandy."

    She nodded. "He's been having little sessions with his neuropsychologist, more like assessments right now, so we can find out how he's doing, what he's thinking, what's been impaired - what he needs is to go to rehab. They have all the resources to help him there, intensive physical therapy, therapists to help him learn to cope, group therapy, support groups...but I know his wife is against it."

    The nurse sighed, shrugging, her shoulders slumped. "When I told her what he said just now, she just...she thinks it's just because he's been in the hospital for weeks now, she thinks it will all be better when she takes him home. But it won't, Mr. Vannucci. If anything, he'll only get worse if we send him home without proper preparation, without rehab."

    Speaking quickly now, Mandy's words tumbled over each other, her frustration evident. "She wants to just have him live at home and take him to his appointments, do outpatient rehab. Going home right now - that will only reinforce his belief that he's inadequate, that he's not fit to be a father. Right now, the list of things he can't do is a lot longer than what he can do, and...that's demoralizing for someone in full possession of their faculties, but - but for people with brain injuries...it really hits hard, it's dehumanizing. He needs time to learn how to...how to live with himself, Mr. Vannucci. His new self. But...I don't think we're going to win that fight."

    Mandy sighed, rubbing her face, clearly exhausted. "But that's a problem for another day, I suppose. Go home, get some rest, Mr. Vannucci."

    Ronnie nodded, flexing his hands against the grips of his crutches, and smiled. "Thanks, Mandy, for all your help. Really. Brandon likes you, you know - I think that helps him."

    She smiled, glancing past Ronnie to Brandon's door once more. "I like him too, he's a very kind person - and optimistic, I can feel that even through all his pain right now. He'll be alright, with time."

    "I hope so," Ronnie sighed, stumping down the hall toward the waiting room. I really, really hope so.