For Mac (12 page)

Liam got up and turned to leave, having said all he wanted, but then thought of one more thing. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come back in tomorrow morning, one more time and tell Mac good-bye. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I don’t want to simply not show up… just in case. Or, I guess I could explain it to him now, if you’d rather.”

That shook Branson from his stupor. “You don’t have to do that, man—”

“I know,” Liam interrupted, “I just wanted to tell him—”

“No.” Branson regained control of the conversation. “I mean, you don’t have to get reassigned.”

“Yes I do,” Liam confirmed.
“I’m the cause of keeping you away from your brother, and I won’t do that. He needs you, and more importantly, you need him. You’ve been staying away from him to avoid me, and that’s not acceptable. I won’t do anything to jeopardize a patient’s care, and I won’t do anything to hurt you. Whether you consider us friends anymore or not, you are important to me, and you need to be with your brother.”

Branson looked up with tears in his eyes. “Please don’t get reassigned. I’ll stop trying to avoid you. It wasn’t really you I was trying to avoid anyway. It was….” Branson seemed to lose his nerve to finish that sentence and dropped his head.

Liam didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure he understood the problem, and this was possibly the first positive thing that had happened in all this. But he didn’t want to push too far and have Branson back off again.

“You haven’t lost my friendship, if I haven’t lost yours,” Branson finally said. “I’ve been an ass, and it wasn’t even you I was angry at. I’d like to say it was at Andy, but I think it was more at me, and maybe at Mac, which made me feel guilty… and then angry at me again.”

Liam chanced a slight grin, though he had no idea what Branson was talking about. “Vicious cycle, that.”

“Yeah,” Branson acknowledged, then said with new resolve, “Don’t ask for reassignment. You’re great with Mac, and I know you said Barbara would be too, but… frankly, if you could forgive me… if we could go back to the way it was before… I really needed those movie sessions, and lunches away. Even the dinner out. It’s just… no one can think it’s more than that.”

“I don’t think anyone did, Branson,” Liam promised solemnly.

“Stay on as Mac’s CNA?”

Liam wasn’t sure he thought this was a good idea, but he nodded his agreement. “We can try that.” He didn’t repeat that he would not be the cause of keeping the brothers apart. He nodded again and left to go home.

Branson

B
RANSON
HAD
decided the night before Liam confronted him that he really was acting like a spoiled child, and he had to stop. He legitimately had to stay at work until after three o’clock that day, but he had decided to apologize to Liam the first chance he got. He wasn’t sure it could ever go back to the way it was, and he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with how much he wished it could, but he owed Liam an apology, if nothing else.

Liam beat him to the punch, at least about bringing things to a head. It had never occurred to Branson that Liam would ask for a transfer of assigned patients. He didn’t want that at all. The confrontation, if it could be called that, had been uncomfortable, especially since Branson knew the whole situation was entirely his fault, but it had been necessary to clear the air.

Things were still strained between Liam and Branson for a while after that, but Liam, true to his word, didn’t ask for the reassignment. He seemed to try to talk normally to Branson, but he apparently was back to being careful not to touch him. Andy and Amy both noticed, but Branson tried not to—even pretended he didn’t—for about two weeks.

“Liam, stop.” He finally called him on it one afternoon when Liam reached out to touch him but dropped his hand yet again. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells. I’m sorry I snapped at you—had a nervous breakdown there for a while, actually—but it wasn’t because of anything you did, and I’m not going to do it again just because you might accidentally touch me, or touch me on purpose for that matter.” Branson clamped down on the memories of how many times he fantasized about how he’d like Liam to touch him. “I’m okay… really. We’re okay. Can we go back to normal? I miss our movies and our lunches.”

Liam looked sheepish. “I didn’t want to presume, lad.”

“Please! Presume!” Branson tried for levity. “I brought in some really bad sci-fi B movies I thought you might like to laugh at with me. I’ve had them with me for the last several days, actually. I haven’t wanted to push the movies because… well, how can I ask you to stay after your shift? And I know you’d never do something like that on company time, but… well, I was waiting for you to suggest it, and you’re not doing it, so I am. Finally. And I’d love it if you and I could eat lunch together tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day.”

Liam grinned. “I’d like that—the movies and the lunches—but I can’t stay for the movies tonight. I promised Katie I’d sit with Aaron while she and the hubby went out on a date.” When he saw Branson’s disappointed face, he added, “We can plan on lunch tomorrow, though, and maybe the movies after shift?”

“That sounds good.” Branson was more pleased than he wanted to admit, and while he was busy trying to convince everyone, even himself, that these meetings with Liam weren’t dates, he hadn’t been this excited to see any of his friends before… not ever.

“O
H
,
MAN
.”
Branson held the lunchroom tray over his head, and he and Liam made a mad dash back inside. “So much for a beautiful day.”

“Right that, lad.” Liam smoothed back his hair, soaked from the sudden downpour. “That was out of nowhere!”

“Certainly wasn’t calling for rain, or I would never have suggested we eat so far away from the door.”

“Ah,” Liam answered. “I love eating under that old tree, though. And t’wasn’t a cloud in the sky at the time.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” Branson answered wistfully but then shook a fist at the rain. “Until the floodgates opened up!”

Liam laughed and started to brush Branson’s hair out of his face.

“Don’t,” Branson whispered.

Liam froze. “You’re giving me mixed signals, lad.” Liam seemed truly befuddled. “Can I touch you or not?”

“Yes,” Branson tried to clarify. “But nothing intimate. We’re just friends.”

Liam dropped his head in exasperation. “You have to stop taking every move I make as an overture if we’re going to work on this friendship. I brush me brother’s hair out of his eyes when it’s wet, sisters’ too, there’s nothing untoward about it.”

Branson nodded. He kept forgetting that Liam was used to touching everyone all the time. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” But Branson wasn’t at all sure, at least not all the time, that he didn’t want Liam to mean something by it. He couldn’t keep his thoughts under control. They kept straying toward wanting more with Liam than friendship, but he couldn’t have that. He didn’t want that. Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself.

“Let’s say this…,” Liam offered. “I will promise to never touch you with more than friendship, and you promise not to assume me touches mean more than that, okay?”

Branson chuckled. “I guess I can try to do that.” He wasn’t exactly sure he could do that, but he wanted to get back to being more comfortable with Liam again, so he would try.

“Good.” Liam nodded, and with that settled, he said, “Let’s get you upstairs to Mac’s room, and I’ll see if I can find you some scrubs or something while I have your shirt dried.”

Liam

T
HINGS
WERE
a little better after that. Movie nights began again, and Liam tried to monitor but not completely curtail his friendly touches. He knew they had an agreement, and Branson seemed to be trying not to take the touches to heart, but Liam didn’t want to take any chances. He came to look forward to their time together again, as he always had before, and Branson seemed to finally enjoy it again too.

On the last day of August, Branson was especially quiet, however. He had come in at lunchtime, eaten outside with Liam, but didn’t say much and begged off any movie plans.

“Andy and Amy are coming by later… around five o’clock,” Branson said out of the blue once they were back in Mac’s room.

Liam wasn’t sure why Branson was telling him that. The pair often dropped by in the evening to spend time with both brothers. He’d probably be gone by then since they weren’t watching movies. But he could tell it was important to Branson that he know. He couldn’t figure out what to say to encourage Branson to say more, so he waited him out.

“Would you stay?” Branson finally added.

“Sure, if you want me to,” Liam answered. “What’s up?”

Branson took a long time to answer. “It’s Mac’s birthday. Thirty-two today.”

Liam looked at Mac, so still in the bed, and knew that Branson didn’t feel like celebrating.

“You’re having a party, then?” Liam asked.

“Sort of,” Branson answered. “A gathering, at least.”

Branson looked more dejected than Liam had ever seen him. Liam wasn’t sure what to say or do to help. So he said the only thing he could think of. “I’ll be back here just before six. Do you need me to bring anything?”

Branson shook his head. “Just you.”

Liam smiled. “I can do that.”

L
IAM
HAD
never seen a more solemn birthday party in his life. He was from a large family, and birthdays were celebrated with gusto. Mac’s looked more like a wake. Of course, the situation was quite different than Liam had ever experienced in his family.

Amy had brought a tiny cake, and everyone had a piece out of tradition. She even used an oral sponge and wiped a small amount of icing on Mac’s tongue. He drooled it out, of course. The doctor had long since said, “nothing by mouth” because Mac couldn’t swallow, but he had also said it was okay to introduce tastes once in a while, hoping for some kind of reaction, as long as they made sure Mac could easily drool it back out or that they suctioned him right after that. The last thing he needed was to aspirate anything.

The whole thing lasted about a half hour, and Amy and Andy couldn’t seem to stand it anymore. They tried to get Branson to leave too, but he said he had promised Mac he’d stay until the end of visiting hours.

Branson looked so dejected, Liam would have done anything to cheer him up.

“Well now, what’s a birthday without presents?” He went to his coat and pulled out a brand new DVD he had picked up on the way. “You said Mac is a big western fan. Who doesn’t like the Duke?”

Branson took the DVD, apparently not knowing what to say. “
The Cowboys
?”

“One of me favorite John Wayne movies,” Liam answered. “Granted, I haven’t really seen all that many.”

Branson grinned. “It’s one of Mac’s favorites too.”

Liam took the DVD back from him. “Great! Let’s put it in.” He came back over to the bed, dragging a chair. “Do we want popcorn?”

“No.” Branson shook his head. “I think the cake was all I can handle.”

Liam hit the play button on the remote control. “Mac, me pal, I hope you appreciate the gesture here. I wouldn’t watch a western for just anyone!”

Branson smiled and gripped Liam’s knee. Liam wasn’t sure whether or not Branson realized that he left his hand there, but Liam certainly wasn’t about to say anything about it.

Branson

T
HE
NEXT
week was a struggle for Mac. He had several grand mal seizures. The last one tore the ventilator tubing where it was connected to Mac’s throat. They replaced it easily enough and tended to the abrasions, but Mac hadn’t opened his eyes or made any noise since that seizure. Branson was afraid he was falling even deeper into his coma. The fact that he’d been doing those two things kept him from having the lowest Glasgow score possible. Without those components… well, Branson didn’t want to think about that.

He laid his hand on his brother’s chest as he sat beside the bed and took in all the changes in the last nine months. Despite range of motion exercises done numerous times daily, Mac still had several contractures. His head was drawn to the right, and both arms were drawn up on his chest—“like a praying mantis,” Andy had said tactlessly once. His legs wouldn’t straighten anymore, and they had to keep pillows under them or between them, depending on his position. He had lost way too much weight and had shrunk to a size that Branson, even being the shorter brother, could lift and manipulate much more easily than he should be able to.

Mac was still on a ventilator and had all the problems that came with that. He had to be suctioned each day but still aspirated saliva and had periods where he battled to breathe, regardless of the help he received from the vent. He had contracted pneumonia several times, which the doctors said wasn’t unusual for someone on a vent that long.

There was still a constant battle with bedsores. It didn’t seem to matter how often they turned him or rearranged his weight, the dreaded bedsores showed their ugly heads anyway. And once Mac had them, it took forever for them to heal up. The staff were constantly salving and bandaging at least one part of him, trying to get rid of the dreaded things. And worse, the sores usually became infected. Mac often developed a fever from them, which sometimes caused more seizures.