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When Jack first swam into consciousness, the first thing he noticed was how cold the room was. Did he forget to turn on the heat last night? The next thing was how scratchy the sheets were. Was he on a roadie? That didn’t seem right. He could’ve sworn they were playing the Aeros at home today. He opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness and wincing. He must’ve forgotten to set his alarm. How unlike him.
“Jack?” a tentative voice called out from his right.
“Maman?” he croaked, thoroughly confused. He turned towards her and winced when his shoulder protested the movement. He didn’t remember injuring it in the last game.
“Try not to move your left side, you’re pretty banged up.” She stood and moved so he could see him.
“I’m hurt?” he asked as she cupped the side of his face. The answer was obvious, seeing as he was in a hospital bed and his arm was lightly pulsing with his heart. But he wanted more information.
“You got a moderate concussion, a broken arm, and some internal bleeding, along with some scrapes and bruises.”
“It must’ve been a brutal check.” His head was already pounding.
Maman took in a soft, sharp breath before letting it out. Tears gathered in her ice blue eyes, and Jack couldn’t help but think about how much they reflected his own. “This wasn’t from a game.”
“Oh.”
“There was an accident.” Tears fell down her face, and she hastily wiped them away. “I should get the doctor. She can explain everything better than me.” Maman brushed back his hair and kissed the crown on his head. “I’ll be right back.”
Jack watched her weave around his bed. He felt like he was forgetting something. No, someone. Right before his mom opened the door to his room, he called out, “Where’s Bitty?” She barely paused before continuing on. She probably hadn’t heard him. Meanwhile, he turned away from the window and closed his eyes to try and relieve the throbbing in his head. And if he fell asleep, oh well. The short conversation with maman took a lot out of him.
When he awoke next, his head didn’t hurt as much. It was also later in the day, if the darkened shadows and weak light of the setting winter sun were any indication. Alas, it was still cold in the room. He turned, slowly this time, aware of his injured arm, to see if his maman was still keeping watch.
Jack couldn’t help but break out into a grin. “Hey, Bits,” he whispered to his boyfriend, who was curled up in the visitor’s chair. His Southern upbringing was on full display with him still wearing his coat and toque.
He startled before unfurling. “Oh, honey!” he shakily exclaimed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Bitty waved a hand dismissively. “You didn’t. I promise.”
“It’s so good to see you. I asked maman earlier for you and I thought she didn’t hear me. Did you finally convince them to go shower or a meal?”
Bitty gave him a sad smile. “They are helping to make arrangements.”
“Do I get to go home soon?”
“I don’t know the doctor’s exact timeline for you, but I believe in the next few days.”
Jack nodded. That was good. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday evening.” He knew he lost time based on what his maman said earlier. Still, he was surprised.
“What about your classes and practices?”
“You’re more important,” Bitty fiercely told him. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Besides, everyone is worried about you. They understand why I can’t be there.”
“Have you been keeping the group updated?” Jack glanced around but he didn’t see his boyfriend’s phone anywhere. It was surprising, seeing how he sometimes teased how it was glued to his hand.
“They know all the important parts.”
“Like how I ended up here?”
“Jack…”
“I can’t remember what happened.”
“I know. The doctor said you might have some memory issues due to the concussion.”
Jack reached over with his good arm and held it out for Bitty to take. He grasped his hand gently, mindful of the IV, and Jack forced himself not to shudder at how cold his boyfriend’s skin was. He mentally added a better pair of gloves to his Christmas gift list. “Can you tell me, please?”
Bitty gave a small nod. “Of course. We were getting dinner on Saturday night—“
“You were with me when it happened?” He immediately began scanning Bitty for injuries, but didn’t see any.
“Jack, please try and save all your questions until the end. It’s… difficult for me to talk about.”
“Sorry. Of course.” Bitty’s face was looking a bit pale.
“We were walking to dinner at that new Thai place that opened up next to Georgio’s. You offered to drive due to the cold, but I insisted we walk because it wasn’t that bad out. You were shocked since I don’t handle the cold well.” He paused and gestured towards his current outfit of wearing a hat and coat indoors for emphasis.
“I can’t help but think none of this would’ve happened if I agreed to let you drive.” Jack wanted to say something to provide comfort, but heeded Bitty’s previous request. Instead, he gave his hand a light squeeze of encouragement.
“We were a block away and crossing the street. We had the right of way, but someone in a truck decided to run a red light. They hit us. I don’t remember much after that, but you were pretty injured. It was touch and go for the first day or so. The surgeons had an issue finding and stopping one of the lacerations that was causing internal bleeding. But things have been looking up since they got you stabilized.” Bitty gave him a smile. “And you left the ICU yesterday.”
“I almost died again,” Jack stated matter of factly. He felt calm at the proclamation, although he would probably have a panic attack about it later. No wonder maman was crying earlier. “I need to apologize to my parents.”
“What?” Bitty squawked. “Why?”
“I scared them. Again. I didn’t mean to, though.”
“Oh, honey.” Bitty leaned in closer and looked him directly in his eyes. “You listen to me, Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” he began with an intensity usually only seen when ranting about his family’s jam feud. “You have nothing to apologize for, okay? Not to your parents, and especially not to me. It was a terrible accident, but it wasn’t your fault. Promise me you’ll remember that.”
“I-I promise.”
“Good.” He patted Jack’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “I’m going to make sure you’re held to it.”
“And you’re okay, Bits?”
“As much as I’ll ever be, Mr. Zimmermann. Don’t you worry about me.” He removed his hand and stood from where he sat at the edge of the bed. “You should get some rest.”
“But I want to keep talking to you.”
“You’re tired, sweetie. Rest so you can go home sooner. Close your eyes, and I’ll tell you stories until you fall asleep. Does that sound good?”
Jack’s eyes slipped shut and he hummed. “Sounds great, Bits. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He could hear the fondness in his boyfriend’s voice. “Okay! Let me tell you a story about one of the kids at the camp I used to work for…”
The next time Jack awoke, it was daytime. His papa sat in the visitor’s chair, frowning at something on his tablet. And for once, he wasn’t cold. Someone must’ve turned up the heat or given him an extra blanket.
“Papa,” he called out. His dad set the tablet down and moved closer to him.
“Jack! I’m so glad to see you awake.”
“Yeah, Bits mentioned I was in the ICU for a few days.” His papa’s face briefly spammed before smoothing over into his placid but open look he typically used with the media. “Say, when did you relieve Bits of guard duty?” He joked.
“When did you speak with Eric?” his dad carefully questioned.
“Last night. He told me about the accident and how I had internal bleeding and then told me about how one of his campers last year vaulted over a picnic table because they didn’t notice its existence. He then launched into a story about two girls who hated each other and I think were also sisters but I fell asleep before he finished.”
“Jack.” His father said his name, filled with anguish and heartbreak. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he was going to say.
“No.”
“Jack—”
“No! It can't be true. I spoke with him last night! He was fine then!”
Papa shook his head, tears falling freely. “I’m so sorry, son. Eric died on the way to the hospital.”
The tears that were welling up tracked down Jack’s cheeks, and he let out a sob. He curled in on himself, not caring that it hurt his injured arm. Bitty couldn’t be gone. Through his spiral he heard his father standing up, and soon felt his arms drape carefully around his shoulders. He continued to cry as papa whispered a litany of sorries and other condolences.
Jack thought that waking up in the hospital after he overdosed would be the worst day of his life. Oh, how naive he was.