by: Kristy Duke
***LUKE DUKE***
“Damn it Bo!” I yell out as frustration corses thickly through my body. Panic is quick to settle in as I once again rush through the aging farm house, the farm house I have lived my whole life in. I fight back more tears that claw at my eyes, tears of sadness of having to depart from the only place I’ve called home. I’ll never be able to call another place home. Not alone to be stuck in a foreign country fighting a war I know nothing about. My mind recounts the number stories I have learned through my training of all the men that have already died out there, in the same war they are shipping me out to. Men that had started their journey to the foreign land in order to protect our country, where I start mine, with saying good-bye to love ones.
Walking quickly through the living room, a mixture of laughter, crying, and talking echoes through my head as old memories of the past displays itself clearly within me. I slowly slow my pace down as I force myself to walk in front of the fire place to slowly take in the pictures that rest upon the small shelf. A tear slowly trickles down my left cheek as I slowly take in a picture of Bo a couple of years ago at the town’s annual picnic, a broad smile spreads across his pale face while pain radiates lively in his blue eyes.
Glancing over at the desk that lies behind the old torn couch, I quickly tear myself away from the pictures at the sight of the time that reads on the small clock that hangs above the desk. Time quickly seems to slip away, robbing me of any more time with my family and at home. “Bo!” I yell out, my voice lies thick with tears as I quickly make my way back towards the room I share with my cousin. Outside, I hear my uncle’s concerned and angered voice calling for my cousin’s name as well as they help me with my search. Of all the times to decide to show up missing, he picks now. “I don’t have time for this, Bo!”
Memories continue to flood thickly within me as I slowly walk into the room I share with my cousin, painful and happy memories of the time we have spent together in this room, talking, laughing, and crying together. There will never be anyone like him. I sigh back more tears as the reality of what is happening quickly hits me at seeing my empty bed, my empty doors hanging open. This is the day I have been training so hard for, the day I am not ready for. Glancing around at the familiar surroundings that had surrounded me for all my life, I slowly sit back down on my bed and take it all in for the last time. Glaring sadly at my cousin’s empty queen sized bed my mind wonders through dreadful thoughts of all that may lie on the road that lies a head of me, wondering if I will ever be able to return home after I leave. If perhaps this will be the last chance I get of spending time in my room, the room I spent so much time in.
I say a soft prayer for my future as I hesitantly stand from my bed to take a last look around before I slowly leave, closing the door behind me. Worriedly I take another look at the clock as I return to the living room to force my frustration to grow intensely within me. I sigh as I think of how bad Bo had taken me signing up for the Marines three months ago, things even grew worse when I had been forced to move onto base with only a few visits. Ever since I had received the letter telling me I had been chosen to fight for my country, not only did his fear and anger escalate but so did his health. Everything seemed to grow worse over night. What was I suppose to do? There is nothing that I can do and yet, now that he knows it is time for me to leave on the train, he has taken into hiding. Damn it.
“Luke,” Uncle Jesse slowly says as he meets me in the large kitchen, worry and anger are etched lively in his bright blue eyes, “We’ll have to leave without him…we’re runnin’ out of time.”
I glare accusingly at him as I glare out through the open window that lies above the sink, over looking the front yard and the drive way. “We still have a few more minutes…I can’t leave without saying good-bye to him,” I finally say to interrupt the silence that has came between us. He nods silently as I go back to looking out the window and for some reason the old barn that lies off to the side of the house catches my attention. Turning back to Jesse, I ask, “Did you or Daisy check the barn? Or the hay loft?”
“I don’t think so. . .I haven’t,” he slowly answers and I quickly turn to run out the front door, allowing the front screen door to slam shut behind me. He better be there.
“Please Bo!” I yell out as I run over to the barn and am swallowed by dark shadows as I walk into the entry way. I silently listen as I take in both sides of the barn, trying to find a good hiding place that he may have hidden himself in. My heart tightens within me as I begin to wonder if I will have to leave without telling him good-bye. “Please don’t do this Bo. . .it is hard enough as it is. I don’t want to go either, it is just something I need to do.” Silence quickly answers me as I make my way to the back of the barn. “I’ll have to leave without saying good-bye if you don’t come out soon, I don’t want to have to do that. Do you?”
Silence once again fills the barn as I slowly reach the unsteady ladder that leads up to the hay loft just as a thud knocks on the floor of the hay loft. My clammy hands numbly takes each rung slowly as I climb the ladder filled with fear-filled thoughts of what may lie ahead. Stories from other soldiers echo through my head, of all that they saw, what they went through, or of the several friends they lost to the violence of war. My fear seems to grow within me with each passing second as I fight back each horrifying thought that enters my mind, forcing myself to think of the past, memories filled with family and home. Of all the things I am leaving behind…perhaps for good.
“Bo,” I call out once again as I slowly stand up in the hay loft, the thin wooden floor is covered with a thin layer of hay. Boxes filled with old clothes and toys line the side walls as well as the back wall and I carefully take it all in, hoping to find a shadow of Bo somewhere in the loft. I sigh in slight relief as I glance ahead where the loft door hangs open to find Bo’s thin small figure sitting to the side of the door. Tears once again build up as I slowly make my way over to where he sits leaning up against the thin wall, hugging his thin long legs, his face hidden amongst his legs. “Bo,” I repeat as I kneel down besides him and rest a caring hand upon his tense shoulder, “I know this is hard.. It is hard for us all. I don’t want to go -”
“Then why are going?” he snaps as he looks up to show me his tear soaked cheeks before he quickly wipes the back of his sweatshirt covered arm across his face, in attempt to dry his face out of pride.
“I don’t have a choice,” I sigh tiredly as I fight for answers, “you know that…we have went over this for two weeks now. I wish you would understand. I’ll be home before you know it.”
“Not if you get shot or k-” he interrupts himself as he sniffles back more tears as I take a seat next to him. His thin chest heaves heavily under his thick hooded sweat shirt, “killed”
I draw him into a hug as I fight for words that may help comfort him in some way, to let him know everything is going to be ok. “I’ll be real careful,” I finally interrupt the silence as I am reminded of the stories once again, their horror stories, “I can’t promise anything, but I will watch myself and be real careful.”
He slowly shrugs his tense shoulders as he silently glares out over the farm house for a long moment before turning back to me to say, “I – I don’t want to lose you, Luke. I’m scared.”
For a moment a cloud of uncertainty fills his dark blue eyes before his fear joins the pain that seems to be a permanent fixture in his eyes. “I know you. If it helps you any…so am I,” I slowly admit as I follow his eyes over the farm house where we watch Jesse slowly exit the farm house with Daisy; both caring a couple of my bags. Abruptly my attention is drawn back onto Bo as he slowly begins to cough wheezily before he slowly forces the coughing to stop with a couple of sprays of his inhaler. Silently listening to his thick wheezy breathing I am reminded of how bad his illness has grown over the past couple of weeks, how much worse his asthma has gotten over the past month. Watching him, I am left to wonder if it is him we have more to worry about losing, than me. At fifteen years old he is already nine years older than his life expectancy his doctors had given him when he was only two years old. He’s strong, but how strong? “Not only for me either,” I slowly speak up, “but for you.”
“For me?” he wheezes, his weak voice filled with disbelief for a short moment before he silently nods. He knows what I am talking about.
“Yeah, you,” I slowly nod in agreement as his attention goes back over the farm house. Nervously I glance at the gold pocket watch that Jesse had given me last night as a going away gift to watch it slowly tick away the precious little time I have left at the farm, with Bo. “You are only fifteen years old and yet you spent each day of those fifteen years engaged in your own war…fighting battles along the way. A war you didn’t sign up for or any training for,” I sigh as he glances over at me, “a war that I have watched slowly eat you away, little by little. Each battle you have won so far has taken so much out of you. You have proved all them doctors wrong, I just hope you can continue to fight, continue to win them battles…and continue to prove everyone wrong. Perhaps through all the fight, you WILL win the war. You just have to remain strong…to fight it all. I know it isn’t easy, but please don’t give up.”
He watches me for a long moment with watchful eyes, dark blue eyes pleading me silently not to go, begging me not to go. “I don’t want you to go,” he finally speaks up.
“I know,” I nod as I once again draw him into a hug, “I don’t want to go, either, but I have to go…it is something I have to do. I know you understand…I love you and I will miss you very much. But I will write you as much as I can and you can write me any time you wish…I may not be able to reply right away, but I will as soon as possible. I want to hear from you.”
He slowly nods as he once again hides his face into his knees that he hugs tightly against his chest and when he slowly looks up again, tears streak down his face. “What will I do when they start to pick on me when you are gone? I need you,” he finally speaks up, talking about the bullies that I usually help scare away, a reason for them to think twice before picking on him due to his differences. He is a good half foot to a foot shorter than anyone in his grade and a lot thinner than any of them with sickly pale skin, all due to the illnesses he was born with. People don’t understand and it lends into bullying.
“I wish I could stay too, Bo, we went through this,” I sigh fighting back my own tears as Jesse points to his pocket watch down below, motioning me to come down so he can take me to the train, “you can defend yourself, Bo…don’t let them push you around. Cooter has agreed to lend another watchful eye…you turn to him, he won’t let them get away with either. OK?”
“Sure,” he slowly says as his hand clenches tightly onto his chest, his sign of his chest causing him great pain. Protectively I put a clammy hand to his forehead and he slowly shrugs my hand away and I draw him into another hug, praying silently for him to be ok, to be able to hug him when I come back home.
“I’ll be real careful,” I reassure him once again as his fear speaks loudly on his face, his fear of losing me, “and I’ll be home before you know…just watch.”
He hesitantly nods before he throws himself on me to give me a tight hug and I quickly return it as fresh tears slowly trail down my cheeks. “I miss you Lukas,” he finally says, refusing to let go of me.
“I miss you too little buddy,” I slowly answer before I pry myself away from him and he watches me through watered eyes, “I love you…don’t give up, you understand? I’ll make you a promise.”
“What?” he asks as he slowly stands up wobbly and he balances himself on the wall.
“That I’ll fight to remain safe and alive,” I pause taking him in, “if you keep up your fight against your evil disease and asthma…you keep up your fight to remain alive. Deal?”
He lends me a weak smile as his eyes grow heavy and he quickly wipes his eyes again with the back of his sleeve before he slowly nods. “Deal,” we once again hug before I slowly let go to take in my thin pale cousin, fighting to keep his image alive, “I miss you Lukas.”
“As I said, I miss you too Bo,” I slowly begin to walk back towards the ladder where I had climbed up at, “but I’ll be back before you know it. You remember our deal, OK?” He nods silently as he gives me a little sad wave, “I love you little buddy.”
“I love you too Lukas,” he says taking a couple of steps towards me as I reach the ladder. I give him a wave as I slowly climb down the thin steps, watching him until he gets out of view. Reaching Jesse at his dirty white truck I glance back to find Bo watching from the loft door waving to me slowly as I climb into the passenger seat next to Jesse. I glare out my window, waving to Bo and Daisy as I silently take everything in as memories flood my head of the good times I have had at the farm. Watching the farm disappear from eye sight tears build up in my eyes once again as I silently wonder when I will be able to return home again. . .
“Bo,” I silently whisper as I abruptly am thrown awake to find myself in the darkness of the old room I share with my cousin. Icy cold sweat slowly drips down my face and the back of my neck as I silently recall when I had left the farm for war so many years ago, wondering if I would ever make it back home alive. Glancing over at Bo’s bed, I am instantly reminded of last night’s events that had led him to the hospital, the place he had spent so much time at as a child. Fear soars silently within me as vivid pictures of Bo lying silently still in his own pool of thick red blood floats clearly in my head.
Fighting back tears of worry, I quickly climb out of bed to send a chill racing down my spine as my bare foot reaches the icy cold wooden floor. Fighting my way silently through the thick darkness that has taken over our room, I slowly find my way to the closed door where I hesitantly flip the light switch that rests a few inches to the left of the door. The darkness slowly evaporates into light as I slowly glance around our empty room, my mind slowly replaying last night’s events. Fearful thoughts rush through my mind as I slowly move through the motions of grabbing clothes to wear before I slowly get dressed. Placing the last button in the slot of my blue flannel shirt my thoughts switch from last night’s events to what today may lead to through the tests that await Bo.
I sigh warily before I slowly open the wooden door and step out into the short hall way and walk into the dark living room. Once again, I make my way through the darkness that has held the living room hostage as I follow the maze to the light that shines out of the kitchen’s entrance. “Mornin’ Luke,” Jesse says from behind the morning’s newspaper, his back facing me, “I trust you got at least a little sleep last night.”
“If that’s what you wanna call it,” I slowly answer as I step around him to grab a coffee cup from the cupboards to slowly pour me a scolding hot cup of freshly brewed coffee. I slowly sit down at the table next to him before asking, “How are you this morning?”
Hesitantly he glances over his paper at me for a short moment before he disappears behind it once again. “I’d be better if what had happened last night were just a bad dream,” he slowly answers as he takes a cautious drink of his own coffee, “I can’t help but to think that I should have gone to Doctor Applebee a couple of months, when signs had started to show. Instead I allowed my pride to steer me to believe what I wanted to believe, what Bo had wanted to believe.”
For a long moment I silently take him in as he continues to read the morning’s newspaper before I slowly take a large drink from my cup of coffee. “Guilt won’t help things Jesse,” I finally say, unsure what to say. Silence slowly begins to build amongst us as he continues to pretend to read today’s newspaper as I slowly eye a couple of magazines and a couple of CD’s piled at the far corner of the table. “Those Bo’s?” I finally speak up as I slowly stand up.
For a short moment, Jesse glances over the top of his crinkled newspaper to stare longly at the pile before silently nodding before disappearing behind the newspaper once again. “Well, I can take them to him,” I slowly speak up as I slide into my thick winter coat that I had hung on the back of the chair when I had gotten home late last night, “I am going to go see him now.”
Abruptly, Jesse sets down the newspaper to slowly fold it neatly in front of him before staring silently at me for a long moment. His crystal blue eyes shine of sadness and worry as he stares at me as he slowly speaks up, “Visiting hours aren’t open until another hour now.”
“I’ll find a way in…one way or another,” I answer as I rest against the back of the chair that lies closest to the locked and closed door, “I want to be there or want someone to be there for him when he wakes up…if he hadn’t already woken up.”
He sighs heavily as his clear blue eyes are filled with even more worry and concern as if deciding on what to do on some tough decision. “That is what I feared,” he slowly answers as he motions for me to sit down and I sigh silently before doing as I am told. “I really don’t know where to start or how to say it,” he slowly pauses once again as he eyes me, searching for some sort of reaction, “other than to say, that I haven’t told you everything that had happened when you were gone.”
Silence once again builds between us as he slowly slides his folded newspaper onto the closest chair to show me a dark blue binder, a binder I recognize from the past. Old memories flood my head of watching him slowly fill the binder full of information on Bo, from hospital bracelets he had collected through out the years, newspaper articles, along with pictures of Bo’s battle of his illness. Jesse had created the binder when Bo had been dropped off unannounced at our door step, filling in old newspaper articles that Bo’s premature birth had created along with hospital pictures. He had created the binder with the thought of the six year life expectancy the doctors had given Bo when he was born, with thought of the binder keeping Bo’s memory a live. Yet when Bo had out lived his life expectancy, Jesse continued to work at the binder with love and care. A binder that display’s each step of Bo’s life, his losses, victories, his pain throughout his battle.
My eyes remain silently locked upon the folder sized dark blue binder that sits in front of Jesse as old memories flood my head, memories that are entrapped in the thick book. I sigh back tears as I silently recall the several times of looking through the pictures and re-reading old newspaper articles at home while Bo lie in a coma or sick in the hospital to looking through it with Bo. “I haven’t seen that since I signed up with the Marines, perhaps longer,” I slowly speak up to break the silence as I continue to stare at the binder in front of him. I remember looking for it after I had gotten the letter that had sealed my fate to go to war only to come up empty on my search and receiving little to no answers about the book from Jesse.
Across the table from me, Jesse slowly nods as he glares silently down at the binder as his own flash backs flash clearly in his crystal blue eyes. Slowly he wipes at his eyes with the back of his left hand before he slowly opens it to display a bulging folder on the back of the cover, filled with different sizes of hospital bracelets. The first sheet of plastic covering holds a couple of newborn baby pictures along with a few long news article on his health, his small chance of living out of the help of monitors. My heart tightens painfully within me at seeing how small, thin, and vulnerable he had been in his baby pictures with several IV needles sticking into his arms, a small tube shoved down his throat, and a plastic tube in each nostril. His ribs seem to bulge out of his thin stomach and chest that several wires are connected to in order to send signals upon his monitors.
Looking up from the pictures, I notice a couple of tears slowly rolling down Jesse’s leathered cheeks as he slowly turns the page that displays more painful pictures and news article. A couple more pages flipped shows a pictures of Bo when we had found him in his car seat on our front door with his bag full of diapers, a few clothing items, one or two toys, and his medications along with a few instructions. At seven months he was thin and small, the sky blue one piece outfit that he wears in the picture hangs loosely on him while his bright blue eyes shine of pain as he glares curiously into the camera. A medical sheet displaying medical updates on his health covers the opposing plastic sheet and Jesse slowly looks over it before turning the page once again. Once more painful pictures glare up at us of Bo lying in the hospital of ten months of age, tubes stuck once again in nose and mouth. Another newspaper lies spread out on the opposite page.
After looking at a couple more pages of pictures and newspaper articles, we are now onto when he looks to be three or four; though to anyone looking at the picture, they would guess him to be early twos or so. His illness had always slowed down his growing, making him look a lot younger than what he really was. Pictures of his fifth birthday part spread across two pages, pictures full of smiles and hidden pain that displays clearly in his eyes. We go through a couple more pages of newspaper print and a few sad pictures of Bo before reach pictures of Bo’s first day of school where he stands in front of the old school in a pair of old blue jeans and a thin long sleeved shirt, a smile spread across his sickly pale face.
Sadness and grief escalate within me at each picture and newspaper article that goes by as flash backs of Bo’s past flash clearly and vividly within me. “There is something you didn’t tell me,” I finally say as my sadness turns into impatience at being forced to look back into Bo’s past, as if last night hadn’t been a reminder in itself of Bo’s past.
He remains silent as he stares down into a page that is full of Christmas pictures, Bo looking to be around six or seven. A couple of pictures were taken at the hospital’s annual Christmas party, a couple taken from the school’s Christmas party, to Christmas day in front of a small Christmas tree and Bo opening up presents. He goes through a couple more pages before he slowly nods and says, “Just a moment.”
I sigh silently as I sit impatiently back into my chair as he continues to slowly look through the binder, taking in each picture, newspaper articles, and a few drawings Bo had made; before turning the page. I attempt to fight back the flashbacks that the pictures and newspaper article’s create with little success. Looking back up, he is now looking at a page of pictures of when Bo looks to be nine or ten, a couple of hospital pictures, a couple birthday pictures, with a report card on the opposite side.
After a long silent moment of Jesse staring sadly into each page that he slowly turns he abruptly looks up at me and a hint of surprise shines in his eyes, as if he forgot I was sitting here, waiting on him. “Yeah…there was a few things that had happened when you were gone that I hadn’t told you about…either out of pride or fear,” he slowly pauses as he turns a few pages at a time, now looking for what he had set out to find, “A month after you left for war, Bo had a cardiac arrest in his sleep,” he pauses to look through a couple more pages before looking back up at me, “the only reason I had been alerted, was because, he had an asthma attack that had awakened me, only a few minutes before. The paramedics were able to gain a faint pulse in the ambulance before arriving at the hospital where he stayed for a few weeks.
“It had taken a long few weeks in order for his doctors and nurses to be willing to release him due to his weak pulse. . .his heart wasn’t working the way it ought to and he had a hard time breathing on his own. It had taken a lot out of him. . .the cardiac arrest, his disease,” he sighs tiredly as he stares through me for a short moment, “it all had left him weak and vulnerable.”
For a long moment, Jesse allows a thick air of silence to float between us as he silently fights back tears that shine brightly in his eyes. “By the time he left the hospital, his disease had left him so weak that he could barely walk on his own, his asthma so bad, his lungs so weak he could barely breath on his own. He was left to a wheel chair and with the assistance of an air tank most of the time, leaving us all wondering how much longer he would be with us. He spent most of his time either asleep or in pain,” he pauses as he wipes at his eyes before turning a few more pages, “He was so weak…we had to do almost everything for him, from feeding to taking a bath. Doctor Applebee had been coming by almost twice a day with check ups. . .each one, he seemed to slip away.”
He goes silent as he finally arrives at a page that is full of newspaper articles along with newspaper pictures of Bo, making it look like it is the page he was looking for. “Here’s what I was lookin’ for,” he sighs as he slowly slides the book across the table to me. “Anyway, after a month or so of that, he suffered another cardiac arrest while taking a bath. . .this time I was alone and it took the paramedics what seemed to last forever until they got here. At least longer than the last. By the time they got here, he had lost a lot of time and a lot of oxygen, but once again, they got a pulse on the way to the hospital, a very weak one.
“After a week in the critical care section of the hospital, Doctor Applebee and a few other doctors that had looked him over had declared that he most likely wouldn’t walk out of the hospital this time. They have said that before, but when Bo hadn’t awakened within a couple of weeks,” he pauses as he glares down at his shaky hands and glances up at me, “I had a feelin’ that perhaps, this time they were right. I couldn’t stand the thought of him dying in the hospital…the one place he feared, hated the most. So after a long argument with the management people of the floor and most of his doctors, I talked them into transporting him back home, so he could at least have a little comfort. They all doubted it would do any good…with him in a coma and all, they figured he wouldn’t notice. Doctor Applebee helped persuade them.
“His own bed was his death bed,” he pauses and I glance down at the newspaper black and white picture of Bo lying on his queen sized bed with several monitors lining against the closest wall, “they assigned a nurse to stay at the farm at all times and Doctor Applebee made a few trips a day to check up on him, a doctor from the hospital stopped by at least once a day.
“After a long month and a half of expecting the worse,” he sighs as he fights back more tears, “he slowly awakened while I had been reading him one of your letters that you sent him…your letters that we read him, seemed to help him a lot. His pulse grew a little stronger while reading your letters. Anyway, I looked up after reading your letter and was shocked to see his dark blue eyes glaring up at me, filled with fear and pain. I’ll let you read.” He motions towards the book and I slowly look down at the news article that reads: LOCAL HAZZARD BOY, PROVES DOCTORS WRONG; AGAIN in bold black lettering.
After glancing up at my uncle in disbelief I slowly glance down at the article that lies ahead of me and slowly begin to read through the lengthy article, reading through the events that Jesse had just told me of. Halfway through the article informs me that once again, Bo’s doctors had suggested pulling the plug, arguing that he had only a ten percent chance of waking up, if even that. Once again, Jesse refused to sign the DNR.; refusing to give up on him. My heart comes to an abrupt stop as the article simply explains the damage that his disease created with the two cardiac arrests so close together and the deep coma he had been lost in. I am filled with great disbelief as I learn how he had lost a great amount of oxygen to the brain during his second cardiac arrest due to the paramedics not getting there in time, causing what they call an emotional disorder.
“Emotional disorder?” my voice quivers as I slowly finish reading the article to glance up at Jesse who stares silently down at the old torn table cloth.
Hesitantly Jesse glances up at me for me to notice tears soaking into his thick white beard and my heart tightens in emotions that swarm thickly through me. “Yeah,” he slowly answers, “his doctors explained it by saying it is like a child trapped in a man’s body or an older person’s body. At times act childish while other times, acts their own age…the need to be comforted by the people knows and trusts.”
I allow a brief moment to pass between us as I allow the new information to slowly sink in before I finally speak up, “The reason why you and Daisy are so protective over him.”
“Yeah,” he silently nods as I silently glance back down at the binder that lays open in front of me to glance at the opposite page of the article that holds a couple of pictures lying on his bed, awake but weak. I slowly turn the page to find several pictures of Bo working with a doctor through rehabilitation, fighting to strengthen his legs once again in order to walk again. A couple of pictures show Bo falling in process of attempting to walk by himself while a few more show him walking with little help, a broad proud smile spread across his face. Turning the page a few more picture are spread across the pages, pictures of a celebration party of Bo beating the odds. “Perhaps too protective,” Jesse slowly speaks up once again as I turn another page to find a medical document reading that Bo’s tests came up negative of finding any signs of his heart disease and that his asthma has gotten better, his lungs stronger. His doctor’s promise of Bo out growing his disease, of having no chance of it returning to him.
Anger quickly corses through my body as I glare down at some extra pictures of Bo, Brodie, and Dobro around his celebration cake, smiles spread across their faces. “Why hadn’t you let me know what was going on? Wrote me a letter…sent me a copy of the news article?” I fight to keep my anger out of my voice, but fail, “Don’t you think I deserve to know?!”
“Yeah,” he slowly nods as he wipes at his eyes once again, “you do. It was just that you were off at war and I knew that most likely you wouldn’t be able to come home. I was afraid that if you knew and you weren’t able to come home, that well. . .you’d lose your concentration on fighting. I can’t afford to lose both of you.” He pauses once again as Daisy slowly walks into the room, “And when you got home from war, all of this began…his asthma started to grow worse gradually day to day and signs of him not feeling too well became apparent. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it, it was like if I didn’t say anything, it would all go away. Instead, he is now at the hospital fighting to awaken and perhaps fighting for his life.”
“Oh Jesse,” Daisy slowly hugs him from behind, her soft brown hair tickling his face before she stands up, “don’t blame yourself. . .no one wanted to admit that there was something wrong.”
I silently watch Daisy slowly make her way from behind Jesse to show her dressed in tight faded blue jeans, a pair of old white shoes, and a red long sleeved shirt, her hair neatly brushed into place. “Mornin’ Daisy,” I slowly speak up as all that I had learned about my cousin continues to rush through my head before it abruptly stops and I am reminded of last night once again. “Who’s your new guy friend?”
Pouring herself a cup of hot coffee she glares coldly at me for a long moment before she watches what she is doing. “FBI Agent Travis Lurns,” she hesitantly answers as she takes a seat next to Jesse before setting the newspaper in front of her.
“You seein’ an FBI agent?” Jesse slowly speaks up, his mind remaining stuck on Bo.
“We have a date set up for tomorrow night,” she grins proudly before she notices she is the only one smiling, “Luke is just upset because last night at the Boar’s Nest, Travis had attempted to interrupt Luke from finishing Bo’s CPR…trying to take over. He was trying to be helpful.”
“Perhaps too helpful,” I lend her a sarcastic laugh before growing serious, “I never said I was upset, all I did was ask who your new guy friend was. No harm in asking.”
***HOSPITAL***
Painful memories once again flood through me as emotions rush through me like a raging river as I step into the warmth of the hospital from the chilly winter early morning. Hugging Bo’s belonging tightly against my closed coat I walk through the brightly lit hall way where I slowly reach the medium sized waiting room. Glancing around the waiting room to only to find a couple people waiting in the bench chairs and the secretary gone, I quickly walk past the nurses station. Walking into another wide brightly lit hall that leads to Bo’s room, I slowly walk along side the brightly white painted walls while I keep my eyes down on the linoleum floor that reflects the bright lights. I sigh silently in relief as I slowly pass a couple of doctors and a nurse that stands huddled close to a closed door, talking amongst themselves.
After a short moment that seems to last an eternity, I slowly reach Bo’s closed door as a doctor’s name is called over the intercom. The cold handle slowly melts in my clammy hand as I shove the door open to be greeted by the un-rhythmatic beeping of his monitors and with the periodically dripping of the IV’s. “I’m here, Bo,” I slowly say above a whisper as I step up to his bed to find him the same as he was early this morning when I was forced to go home by his doctor. The dark bruise that surrounds his bandage on his forehead has seemed to expand and grow darker his bare chest shows dark bruising along his ribs, most likely from the one rib I had cracked during my compressions. “I’m right here, Bo,” I repeat as if expecting him to wake up and answer with repetition before I slowly set his magazines and CDs upon the night stand that lies next to his bed, “Uncle Jesse gave me a few things from home to bring to you…here they are.”
I silently glance through the CDs that Jesse had picked out before I slowly pick out a CD to slowly place it into the hospital’s CD player. “How ’bout some music?” I ask before pushing the play button and Toby Keith begins to sing, “I love this Bar”. Slowly I move from the CD player resting on the bed stand to sit down in the metal fold out chair where I had sat on before being ushered out early this morning. “Everything is going to be OK, buddy, you just need to wake up,” I silently beg as I rest a caring hand on his arm to feel it to be deathly cold, still.
Watching him silently sleep on the old hospital bed, my mind returns to all that Jesse had explained to me today, of all that happened while I had been gone. The old newspaper picture of Bo lying on his own bed with a tube stuck down his throat and in his nose, IVs dripping into each arm, his bare chest open to be hooked up to the monitors, displays clearly in my head. I sigh silently as I recall how bad I have treated him the past month and a half that I have returned from war, the impatience I shown him, the disrespect. And yet, he repaid me with his own patience and understanding towards me instead of coiling back at me in anger. I sigh as I silently wonder if I had only knew the difference he holds, that perhaps I would have treated him better with more understanding.
Outside the closed door, I hear another name being called out over the intercom as I slowly stand up and walk over to the window that lies a couple of feet away from the foot of Bo’s bed. Outside the dark sky is slowly lightening up to a shade of light blue with a few clouds floating about. Glancing down at the dusty dirt road that is covered lightly with snow and ice, I watch a couple of cars rush by, people on their way to work.
Glaring silently out through the small window, my flash back of a dream I had last night slowly and clearly begins to play in the back of my mind. My heart tightens with guilt for leaving him when I had, knowing he needed me the most. Even when I had first signed up with the Marines, I knew he needed me to be there for him, and yet I went through with it and signed up. Only to be shipped off a few months later for a few years, leaving him only my letters to remember me by, the only way of contact. I sigh thinking of the consequences my leaving him had done, perhaps almost killing him, changing him forever. “Damn it,” I mutter angrily under my breath as I force myself to think of what may have happened if I hadn’t signed up for the Marines, if I had thought of him instead of me. I couldn’t stand to watch him suffer any longer with the thought that he doesn’t have much time left to live with how weak he was before I left. I couldn’t stand watching him slowly die before my eyes with thought of losing him forever. So instead of staying with him when he needed me the most, I had chickened out and signed up for the Marines and training, thinking it would be easier to hear about his death, than to watch it.
Hearing his monitors slowly beeping behind me, my thoughts quickly avert to painful flashbacks of his past, of the pictures I had seen this morning at the kitchen table. I slowly begin to fight against the flashbacks that play vividly within me as I slowly say a silent prayer for Bo to awaken, to be OK.
A few silent moments pass of staring out the window, watching the sky slowly shift into bright blue, before I hear the sound of cheap sheets being moved. My heart races within me in premature excitement as I slowly turn around to find Bo struggling to open his eyes before he wins the fight momentarily before his eyes closes for a moment before re-opening. “Bo,” I say softly as I rush over to the side of his bed and he glares questionably up at me with pain pierced blue eyes. Struggling back my tears of worry I slowly bend down and hug tightly onto him before I force myself to gently let go of him and watch as he lies back down upon his pillow. “How you feelin’ buddy?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” he slowly answers as he glances around the room before recognition slowly hits him and panic is quick to follow.
“Shhhh it’s ok,” I comfort him as I run my hand through his thick blond hair, his skin remains deathly cold despite him being awake, “everything will be ok.” He slowly begins to nod before more pain enters his eyes and he abruptly lies still before he reaches up to touch the bandage that his tied tightly to his thick cut, “Yeah, try a sink instead of a truck.”
I receive a small smile with that before I calmly sit back down in the metal fold up chair that sits a foot away from the side of the bed. Silence slowly continues to grow between us as I take in my cousin while my mind recalls all that Jesse had told me this morning and the newspaper article I had read. “Where’s Uncle Jesse?” Bo’s weak voice pulls me back into reality.
“He’s at home with Daisy,” I slowly speak up and a wave of panic clearly washes through Bo’s thin lanky body, “they will come by in,” I glance up at the small clock that hangs on the opposite wall, “about a half hour with Doctor Applebee. They need to get some tests done and figured you’d be more comfortable with your family physician over a hospital doctor.”
Bo silently shakes his head for a brief moment before he lies still once again, glaring up at me, begging me silently to make it all go away. A large tear slowly escapes from the corner of Bo’s right eye and slowly begins it’s journey down his sickly pale cheeks as his eyes dance with fear and pain. Slowly he harshly wipes his right cheek with a trembling index finger with frustration and anger. “No,” Bo’s weak voice softly says in a half whisper, his voice trembling in feared disbelief as he glares through me at nothing in particular.
“I know…but it is needed if you want to get feelin’ better,” I search for words that my comfort him, coming up empty. He eyes me with arguementive blue eyes for a long moment before he slowly glance around once more, finally setting eyes on the few items I had taken of his from home. “Uncle Jesse sent those here for you from home.”
I slowly grab the couple magazines that he had piled up to take to Bo, a couple of baseball magazines and a couple of car magazines. I am hit with a cold and painful stare for a short silent moment before he slowly speaks up, “I wanna go home.”
Panic once again clouds in his dark blue eyes as he stares up at the roughly painted ceiling, tears slowly streak down his cheeks. My heart tightens as I silently watch him for a short moment as Jesse’s thick and saddened voice rushes through my head, of him explaining where Bo’s painful past had led him to, to his own death bed. “Uncle Jesse tol’ me this morning about all that had happened while I was away…from your first cardiac arrest a month after my departure to the emotional disorder the lack of oxygen had left you with,” I pause for a short moment as he glares over at me with hurt-filled eyes before he fights to hide his emotions once again as his eyes dart back up at the ceiling, “I just wanted to let you know, that I know. . .and to say, ” once again, I am left to silently search for the right words to say, “to say that you should feel free to be yourself, who you are. Not to hide who you really are. I know it isn’t something you talk or like to talk about, I just wanted to let you know that you can be yourself. I am here for you.”
His eyes soften a bit as he continues to glare up at the ceiling for a short moment before he gently rubs his wet cheeks before looking back over at me. Confusion is thickly spread across his face as he silently takes me in for a brief moment before he slowly nods in understanding. “OK,” he slowly answers as his eye lids slowly grow heavy and he begins to fight off sleep.
***UNCLE JESSE***
A wave of exhaustion rushes through my aging body as I silently glance up at the old clock that hangs above the nurse’s desk that is positioned in front of the small waiting room. Old memories flush smoothly through my head of all the times in the past we had spent waiting on word of Bo in the waiting room. Of all the times we were faced waiting for the worse possibilities. And yet, after five and a half years of watching him grow healthy and strong, figuring that he was out of the woods of his deadly disease; we are here, again, with the possibility of re-entering the dark forest filled with fear and pain. “Damn it,” I silently mutter impatiently as frustration and worry rushes through me, “he was suppose to be here ten minutes ago.”
“Relax Jesse,” Daisy slowly speaks up as she sets a caring soft gentle hand upon my lower right arm as she sits to my right in another bench seat. I slowly glance over at her to find her other hand stuffed deeply in the pocket of her thick pink winter coat while she looks up at me with worried dark blue-brown eyes. “He’ll be here…maybe he got called to another emergency in town or something.”
“Yeah maybe,” I sigh in resignation and she slowly offers me a small comforting smile before she returns to the crinkled magazine she had picked from the closest end table.
“Sorry I am so late,” an older gentlemen’s voice rings out after a few moments of silence and I slowly look up to find the town’s local doctor slowly walking into the waiting room, carrying his black bag. Today he wears one of his old worn dark brown suits with a white dress shirt that lies under neath and black scuffed shoes that hides under his pant legs. Doctor Applebee had always believed in dressing up as much as possible for his patients even in knowledge that he most likely would be wearing a white coat over the suit. At sixty-five years old he stands a foot shorter than me with thinning grayish blue hair and wears thin rimmed glasses that hangs loosely on his thin nose, his skin is leathered from long hours of spending time outside in the hot sun. Light brown eyes peer out through the thin glasses filled with worry and concern as he slowly reaches where we slowly stand to greet him. After shaking hands he speaks up once again, “My car had refused to start this morning…days that I am at my clinic, it is no big deal, but to come here, I am in need of my car. I waited on Cooter to come by and he took a look and fixed it within five minutes.” He shakes his head in disbelief before he motions us to follow him as glances over at me with his concerned and worried eyes, “Tell me all that had happened? When had signs started to show that something may be wrong?”
Dread and regret quickly rushes through me once again as he asks about what had happened, when I had first started to notice something was wrong. If only I had contacted him when I first seen that something was wrong, when I first realized that something was wrong, we would most likely not be here. “I started to see signs that showed that something may be wrong like a month and a half ago, perhaps two months ago. He hadn’t suffered a big attack for a few months until around then and I caught him having one or two a week or so. It all started out slow, every once in awhile, but it all steadily grew worse. As for everything else, it was obvious that Bo was in some sort of pain, some discomfort, but he would never tell us what was wrong. We asked and he would insist that he was fine. Everything just continued to grow worse and more consistent,” I sigh as I allow silence to build up between the three of us as we pass a few doctors down the wide hall way, “Then last night he went out to the Boar’s Nest with Luke and a few friends…I told him I didn’t want him to go, that he didn’t look too well. Once again I allowed him to go when he had fought to go, saying he was fine,” I pause silently as I glare ahead, “I guess one of the people he went with last night had a cigarette that had started another attack, Luke was able to ease it down a bit. Luke says he then slowly excused himself from the table to use the bathroom, a few moments later, Luke went in to check on him and found him face down on the floor; covered in his own blood.”
“That’s when he done the CPR and got help,” Applebee fills in the gaps as I slowly finish. Abruptly he stops to glare angrily at me through his light brown eyes that is normally filled with gentle understanding and caring. “Why hadn’t you called me when all of this started?” his thick southern accent is curved with an edge of anger as he glares at me.
“I – I,” I slowly stutter as I fight for answers, knowing that there is no correct answer. Applebee is right, we should have called him months ago. “After the accident last May, we don’t have any money to pay for any more medical bills. The hospital has been after us for the past few months to get another medical payment. . .we have been struggling, the farm has been struggling. With you stating clearly that you are no longer able to take IOUs and having no money -”
“Don’t give me that crap, Jesse,” he glares through his glasses to send daggers of fire shooting at me from his angered brown eyes before he forces himself to relax by glancing down the brightly lit hall. Glancing back at me he slowly continues, “you know as well as I know, that I would have been glad to see Bo. With money or no money. With the medical past he has, it is important for him to be seen by a doctor if anything is wrong, wether or not, he still has the disease. You of all people, I would think would have been the first to drag him into my office…or to call me. I still make house calls. You were always the first one to call at any little sign that something may be wrong in the past, when he was so sick. What? Now that they have announced him healthy, you don’t find it important to get medical help when something is apparently wrong? They may have said he outgrew his disease and his lungs may have grown stronger, but with his past, that he lived through, it is always important to get him medical attention at any little thing. And I know you know that.
“And my statement of not being able to take any more IOUs,” he pause for a short moment once again, “was directed towards patients coming in with simple colds, expecting me to do something, when they have no money. A cold is a cold, to a healthy normal person, a cold won’t kill them nor hurt them. Just some discomfort. Or coming in with anything small and un-harmful like a cold for that matter.” He goes silent as he glares down at the clipboard and at his black bag before he slowly looks up at me, “What Bo has is nothing like a cold and you knew that as well. No,” he glares at me and back at Daisy as he slowly begins to walk again, “the reason why you hadn’t called me is because of your stubborn pride. Your stubborn pride not wanting to admit that there could be a problem, that by chance his illness coming back,” once more silence comes between us as we reach Bo’s closed door and he lies a small hand upon the silver handle before turning back to me, “your stubborn pride almost lost you a nephew, Jesse.”
My legs seem to turn to rubber below me as his words spoken through angered concern, echo within me as I watch him slowly opening the door that leads into Bo’s small hospital room. For a short moment I watch as Daisy hesitantly follow the shorter doctor into the room, before I silently follow them and close the door behind me. Turning around to look at Bo, my heart tightens painfully in my chest as I watch him lying silently and still in the old hospital bed. His monitors show little no improvement since the early morning hours when I was last here visiting him after he had been brought in from the ER, the bruise under the thick bandage has now expanded and grew darker, the thick gauze is soaked and stained with dark red blood. A large bruise slowly builds upon his lower chest where Luke had done his compressions at, his chest lying open so the wires can connect to the monitors. I say a silent prayer before I hesitantly walk up to his bed, joining Applebee and Daisy next to Luke.
“How is he?” Applebee slowly speaks up to break the silence, looking down at Luke who remains sitting in the metal fold up chair.
Luke slowly glances up from watching Bo sleep to finally answer, “He woke up a half hour ago, but fell back asleep fifteen minutes or so ago.”
A small flame of excitement lightens up within me at hearing that he had awakened as Daisy lies a comforting hand upon my shoulder. “May I?” Applebee asks after nodding in understanding, motioning for Luke’s chair.
“Oh yeah,” Luke slowly nods before he hesitantly stands up, his eyes remaining on Bo. Joining us he asks, “How you holdin’ up?”
“Better now at hearing that he had awakened, even for a little bit,” I slowly answer as Doctor Applebee writes something down on his clipboard while watching his monitors. Placing down his pen upon the clipboard, Applebee reaches down into his black bag to grab out a small pen flash light and slowly turns it on. Silently we watch as he slowly opens Bo’s right eye and examines it with the light before doing the same to his left eye, finishing the exam he turns off the light in order to write again in his clipboard.
Except for the irritating beeping from the monitors and the hollow dripping of the IVs dripping into his stiff still arms, the room is covered in silence as we silently watch Bo sleeping, while Applebee is lost in his writing. My heart seems to rush quickly within me as Bo’s still body slowly begins to move a little at a time while a small moan of pain escapes from him. After a brief moment, his dark blue eyes slowly flutter open to stare blankly at the ceiling before he glares over at Doctor Applebee who offers him a small smile. “Uncle Jesse!” he finally says as his eyes finally are directed towards Daisy, Luke, and me.
I lend him a comforting smile as I make my way around to the other side of his bed where I slowly bend down and wrap him in my arms, thanking the Lord at his waking silently. For a brief moment I refuse to let go before Daisy cuts in to give him her own hug. “How are you?” Daisy finally asks the question that lingers on everyone’s tongue.
For a brief moment he glances up at me before looking over at Luke for some sort of help, for the right answer. “I’m fine,” he finally says stubbornly.
Applebee gives him a stern sarcastic laugh before growing serious with him, resting a comforting small hand upon Bo’s right shoulder. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have had a cardiac arrest last and wouldn’t be held up here in this hospital bed,” he slowly answers, “how do you really feel?”
Bo glares angrily at him for a brief moment before looking over at me and I slowly nod, trying to prompt him to tell him the truth. “I. . .I hurt,” Bo stutters out his answer, “everywhere.”
Applebee nods for a brief moment before jotting down something on his clipboard, looking up at Bo, he asks, “Does it hurt to breath?”
Once again he glances at me before looking back over at Applebee as he thinks through his answer. “Yeah, with every breath,” Bo slowly answers before going on, “my chest hurts and my head hurts…everything hurts.”
Applebee nods sympathetically at Bo before returning to his clipboard to write Bo’s answer down before he glances up at Bo. “Perhaps on my way out, I’ll talk them into upping your pain killers,” he gives Bo a smile, a smile you may put on for a child, “for now I want to do a couple of tests…to see all that may be wrong.”
Bo glares at him for a short moment as he bends down and picks up a breathing tube out of his bag and Bo glances over at Luke for help before looking back at me and Daisy. “It’ll be ok, Bo,” I smile at him.
He slowly nods before he glances back over at Doctor Applebee as he slowly puts together the tubing, the tubing that he tests Bo’s asthma with, with each doctor’s visit. “I think you know what to do with this test, you take a breath in and let it go when I get to three, OK?” Bo slowly nods, “One. . .two. . .three,” Bo slowly does as he is told and a harsh rattle cough escapes from him to send tears of pain to his eyes. “Good job…two more times.” I watch as Bo slowly cooperates with the aging doctor with taking a deep breath before letting it go two times, each time, the pain it causes him radiates from his ashen face. “Thank-you,” Applebee smiles at Bo before he silently reads the results and writes something down upon the clipboard.
“You’re doin’ a good job, buddy,” Luke speaks up from the foot of the bed to break the silence that had started to fill the room again as Applebee bends down to look through his black bag.
“I wanna go home,” Bo slowly replies looking down at Luke before glancing up at me, dark blue e yes pleading with me to make everything to go away, to take him home with me.
“I am going to suggest that he stays here until the blood tests comes in, for observation,” Applebee slowly answers Bo’s plea as he sits up with a sharp needle and a thick line rubber band, “the test should take three to four days to come in with any answers.”
“No,” Bo whimpers as he finally spots the large needle that Applebee holds, while glancing down at Bo, thinking of his best way to take Bo’s blood. Throughout the years of pain and fear of being poked with needles with each doctor’s visit or hospital visit, Bo has grown a deep thick hatred and fear towards needles…and the hospital. Bo glares at me demanding me to help him through fear filled eyes.
“Luke,” Doctor Applebee slowly glances up at Luke as he tightly ties the rubber band around Bo’s arm, a couple of inches above his elbow, “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
“No,” Luke slowly says with uncertainty as he walks up to Applebee on the other side of Bo’s bed, “what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to hold Bo’s arm down onto the bed,” Applebee slowly answers and Luke looks at him questionably, “otherwise it is impossible to keep his arm still enough to gather any amounts of blood…he has troubles keeping his arm still with the sight of the needle.”
“Oh ok,” Luke slowly says as guilt radiates in his bright blue eyes, guilt at having to be the one to hold Bo down in order to help the doctor do what Bo fears the most. “It’s OK Bo,” Luke slowly compensates with Bo as he places a caring hand around Bo’s tense wrist and another hand on his forearm to hold his arm down into the mattress.
“No,” Bo repeats through a quivering voice as Applebee begins to rub alcohol upon his inner elbow, where he has spotted a vein to take blood from. Bo glances over at Luke through accusatory eyes before Daisy slowly touches his left shoulder, gathering his attention away from Luke and away from the needle as Applebee carefully digs the sharp needle deeply into Bo’s elbow. Daisy says some comforting words as I watch his blood slowly filling up the clear case of the needle.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Applebee finally asks as he carefully pulls the needle out of Bo’s arm to place it carefully into a case and Bo glares angrily at him. “I need to take one more blood sample…just to make sure they both match.”
Luke continues to hold down Bo’s hand as Applebee washes his inner elbow once again with his alcohol before throwing away the cotton ball in the small garbage basket. Bo’s eyes water as he watches Doctor Applebee slowly pulling out another empty needle and slowly moving closer to him. “It’s going to be OK,” I finally speak up, placing a caring hand on his left elbow and he forces himself to look away from the needle as Applebee injects it into Bo’s elbow, “you are doing a good job, Bo. I know this isn’t easy,” I slowly say, fighting to keep his concentration away from the needle that slowly steals his blood away from him, “it’s not easy for anyone here. It’s going to be OK…you just watch and see.”
He slowly nods before he grips a tight hold of my ow arm in his pain as Doctor Applebee slowly pulls out the needle that is now full of his blood. He slowly lets go of me as Applebee slowly places the needle in the case with the other needle before placing a band-aid over the two needle marks that slowly dribble out blood and beginning to bruise and swell. “All done,” Applebee gives Bo an understanding smile as he pats Bo’s shoulder before he slowly rises, “We’ll send these into a lab and I’ll come by with the answer within three to four days. Until then, I suggest you stay here for observation.”
“I wanna go home,” Bo slowly speaks up from his bed as Applebee slowly joins Luke at the foot of the bed and Daisy and I slowly join him.
“I know, but it is in your best interest that you stay here. Your heart beat is still soft and rare, not even close to where it should be and you are having difficulties even breathing by yourself, without the help of the machines. Hopefully by the time the results come in, all that will strengthen,” he sighs as he glances down at his clipboard before looking up at me, eyeing everyone in the room before saying, “Bo’s lung test that I had first taken, has shown that Bo’s asthma has worsened by a large degree since we last had a look. It isn’t as bad as it was five years ago, but it seems to be gradually moving in that direction. I am going to prescribe him an inhaler to use whenever he suffers an attack and when he takes his asthma medications,” he pauses, “I am also going to prescribe him higher prescription for his asthma than the ones he is taking now. To be used twice daily, one in the morning and one before bed. Just like now, just a higher dose.”
My heart tightens in sadness at hearing how much Bo’s asthma has gotten worse since his last doctors visit only three months ago, a month before things started to evaporate for the worse. If only I had gotten him to see Doctor Applebee at first, Bo wouldn’t have suffered as much as he had. “OK, thank-you,” I finally say as I glance over to find Bo fighting hardly against sleep that threatens to over come him.
Applebee watches Bo for a brief moment before returning his attention back to us before saying, “If you have any questions, Dr. Hirsh should be able to answer them. If not, you know my number. I will go talk to Dr. Hirsh when I get done here, perhaps get him to higher the painkillers they are giving him as well as giving him his inhaler and his new prescription. You have any questions?”
I glare at him in disbelief as he takes a couple of steps to the door before looking over at Bo who has lost his fight against sleep. “No, we don’t have any questions at the moment,” I slowly answer, speaking up for everyone.
“Well then,” he gives us a comforting smile as he opens the door, “I will see you when the tests come in, I will call you at home or here whenever it comes in.”
“Thank-you,” I force a smile as he slowly leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I slowly take a step closer to Bo’s bed where I rest my trembling hands upon the back end of a metal railing. Silence begins to build between the three of us as we are left to think of all that Doctor Applebee had to say, to what the result of his test had came back to say, as well as with thoughts of what the blood tests may come back to say. I glance up at Bo who remains silently asleep to notice a lone tear slowly rolling down his left pale cheek and Daisy is the first one to walk over to slowly and gently wipe his cheek dry of the tear. “He’ll be fine, ” I stand up to face Luke and Daisy, “he’s stubborn and strong, he hadn’t allowed it to win him in the past, and he won’t allow it to beat him now. We just need to have faith in him…we need to show him that he has our support.”
“Yeah,” Luke finally answers as he slowly takes the chair he had lent to Applebee before he slowly runs his hand through Bo’s hair, careful not to touch the bandage.