Full Strength

Thirty Five-Logan 🏒

        I spent two full days in the hospital.

        It wasn't too bad. I could watch hocky on the television, or at least find old tape to review. My meals weren't terrible either. I was also allowed to go out in the hall, provided I had someone with me. Physically, I felt better. The fever was truly gone by the first afternoon, and I was able to stomach food by dinner. 

        I had plenty of visitors, too. Lillian was there almost nonstop, only leaving when visitor hours were over or when I demanded she go home and rest before she killed herself with exhaustion. Eve, Nick, and my parents visited too, giving me feel-better cards and balloons. Graham, Adam, and Harry showed up-except Harry was kicked out for trying to sneak me a six-pack of Whiteclaw. I appreciated the gesture, even though I couldn't drink and it resulted in not seeing Harry.

        Tuesday night, I was released. Lillian drove me home, along with my massive amount of medications and a freshly wrapped cast. She was silent most of the drive there, until finally I asked, "Are you okay?"

        "Yeah, of course. Just a hard week," she said, her tone much too light.

        I paused. "Because of me?"

        "No, goofball, not because of you," she laughed. 

        "Other stuff? Like your normal life?"

        Her smile faded. "Not that either."

        Another silence before I said, "If you don't want to tell me, you can just say so."

        "I'm sorry. I didn't want to say it was you, because it's not, it's just..." she trailed off.

        I guessed, "It was me."

        Lillian chewed on her lower lip, admitting, "I've just never been this worried about a patient before. Yes, when things go wrong, I'm anxious. I'm stressed. I make a lot of phone calls to Jack. I'm doing everything I can to make sure they feel better. But with you, it was different. It was like someone had their hand around my throat, threatening to choke me."

        I bit back an unhelpful comment about her being choked before saying, "I mean...I'm guessing you don't easily become friends with your patients. You've lived with me for four months now; that's a significant amount of time."

        "I guess," she said, sounding uncertain. "But it felt like I was the family member, sitting in the waiting room waiting to receive news. I've had to be the person to deliver the bad news before, and I've never really been on the other end of that."

        It finally clicked what she was saying: she cares. She wasn't expecting to, but she does. And I knew she had feelings for me, but I think this was the first time it had really hit her. Right in the gut.

        "Thank you for being that person for me," I said quietly. 

        She glanced over, surprised. "What?"

        "It's always been my parents, or my siblings," I said, clearing my throat a little. "I've been in out of the hospital dozens of times. Broken jaw. Concussion. Dislocated shoulder. Anything you can think of, I've broken it. Which you clearly know. But that person, the one in the waiting room, thinking about me and wondering if I'm okay, has always been family."

         Lillian parked the car in the driveway and briefly closed her eyes. "Logan, I don't...I don't feel this way a lot," she said, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm not very good at caring for people."

         "That's okay," I said softly. "You don't have to be." I leave the rest unfinished: she doesn't have to be because in the end, it doesn't matter.