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The first thing Nick became aware of when he drifted into consciousness was a rhythmic beeping sound. He recognized that sound. He’d heard it all his life, every time he followed his dad through the hospital since he was little and thought his dad was a superhero, saving lives. But why was he hearing it now?
The second thing he became aware of was how much his head hurt . It was like he’d fallen down the stairs of Grey House and hit his head on each one. He groaned and it reverberated through his skull, making it throb and ache even more . He tried to raise his hand to rub his forehead, but it was caught in something. Someone else’s hand, big and warm around his own, suddenly squeezing tight.
“Nick- Nick, are you awake?”
Nick knew that hand… Nick knew that voice.
He slowly opened his eyes, stopping and groaning again when he was assaulted with bright white light flooding through his cracked eyelids.
“It’s okay, buddy,” his dad was saying, gently rubbing circles into the back of Nick’s hand. “You’re okay.”
Finally, encouraged by his dad’s voice, Nick managed to open his eyes all the way and take in his surroundings. Bright lights, white walls, terrible scratchy sheets, an IV bag and a needle through his arm alongside the wires connected to a heart monitor…
Yep. A hospital room.
And his dad, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed, holding his hand.
“Dad…” his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Nick tried to sit up, to ask what was going on, even though his body screamed at him not to. He somehow could feel every bone in his body and they were all bruised, his every muscle throbbing in agony. His teeth clenched, a soft hiss of pain escaping - masking the whimper he had almost made. His dad quickly held his other hand out and pushed Nick back down onto the bed. It didn’t take much effort. Nick had only made it maybe two inches off his pillow. Two inches and everything in his body felt like it had taken a beating. He couldn’t help but release that little whimper he’d tried to hide before.
His dad kept rubbing circles into Nick’s hand. It was like when Nick was little and came down with the flu, his dad taking off work for the day and staying home to make him soup and watch cartoons with him…
“Don’t move, you’ll be okay,” his dad said gently. He sat back down in his chair, groaning a little as he did. Nick knew he hated the chairs. It was a universal truth that hospital chairs sucked.
Nick looked at him. His dad was wearing his glasses, but underneath, if he squinted, Nick could see the shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Nick looked a little lower and spotted his dad’s pajama shirt under his jacket.
“Y’look like shit,” he mumbled.
His dad gave a weak laugh. “You’re no Sleeping Beauty either, kid.”
“What…” what happened? He was trying to remember, but his head was all muddled and fuzzy.
“You got in a car crash,” his dad said, sounding much older than he was. “You went out, said you’d be back and to not wait up, and the next thing I know I’m getting a call in the middle of the night saying my son’s car skidded on some black ice and I needed to come to the hospital.”
“Oh… right.” He’d gone out for a drive, to go to Blairsville and meet up with some friends from high school. He’d been on his way back, and the last thing he remembered was spinning across the street. He hoped his friends had all made it home okay. Once he got his phone back he could call them and find out.
“Yeah, ‘oh, right’.” His dad sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. “You got pretty lucky, you know. Just a light head wound and some cracked ribs. They’re keeping you here for a day to make sure you don’t have a concussion or internal bleeding, but you’re looking good so far. It could have been a lot worse.”
Worse than this? Nick wanted to say. His whole body felt like one big bruise.
But looking at his dad’s face… Nick knew not to say it.
“Sorry, dad,” he said instead.
His dad sighed again, giving him a weary smile. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Move me to a small town so I learn my lesson?”
It was the clearest sentence he’d managed since waking up. He was glad he’d managed it, especially when it got the desired result - his dad giving an honest smile and even starting to laugh despite himself, covering his mouth and everything so he wouldn’t laugh too loud. It wasn’t even funny, but it was worth it. Nick smiled himself, even though it pulled something in his face - the stitches, probably - and nearly made him wince.
“I think if we find a town any smaller than this,” his dad said, still chuckling, “I’ll end up operating on myself just for something to do.”
“Darn, we’re stuck here.”
“Looks like it. Can’t say I’m disappointed.” His dad gave his hand another squeeze. “You should get some more sleep, alright? It’s good for you.”
Even as he tried to fight it, so he could keep talking to his dad, Nick could feel his eyelids getting heavier. “‘Kay.”
“I’ll be here when you wake up, Nick. Promise,” his dad said, his voice getting further away.
“Love you, dad,” was the last thing he managed to say before his eyes closed.
The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him again was his dad’s voice, soft and small for the first time in Nick’s memory, saying “I love you too.”