Page 143 of Tiny Fractures

Frank and Steve nod, and I give him a quick wave.

“Alright, let’s get this gnarly little contraption out of this young man’s chiseled chest,” Davis says, and he moves close to Ronan’s bedside. He directs Jessica to stand on the other side of the bed. “Alright Jess, I need you to tip his head back.”

Jessica moves Ronan’s head with both hands, exposing his throat. I realize I’m holding my breath and my heart is pounding audibly in my chest, while Frank wrings his hands and Steve’s jaw is tense as we all look on.

“A little further, Jess. That’s good. Hold it like that.” Davis removes the tape around the ventilator and hands it to Doctor Casteen. “Alright, Jess. I need you to hold real still while I pull this out so we don’t injure the trachea.”

Davis slowly pulls a clear tube out of Ronan’s throat. It’s thicker than I had imagined, and much longer.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve whispers next to me. Finally, the tube is all the way out.

“’Kay, Jess, you can move his head back to its normal position.”

The nurse follows the instructions.

“Good. Now breathe for us,” Davis says to Ronan.

I stare intently at Ronan’s chest, willing it to rise and fall, but nothing happens. Please, please, PLEASE! Tears threaten to blur my vision again.

Davis places his hands on Ronan’s chest, right on the sternum. Less carefully than would seem appropriate given Ronan’s injured ribs, Davis rubs Ronan’s chest, mumbling to himself and maybe Ronan. “Come on, son. In and out, in and out. There we go,” Davis says, delight in his voice.

I see the long-awaited rise of Ronan’s chest. He’s breathing on his own.

Frank laughs out loud, relieved, and Steve pulls me into a bear-hug while I laugh and cry both at the same time.

Jessica and Doctor Casteen take Ronan for X-rays, which confirm Doctor Casteen’s diagnosis of pneumonia. Jessica starts Ronan on IV antibiotics. His breathing is steady, but Jessica nonetheless puts him on oxygen. “We just want to make sure he isn’t working too hard just yet,” she says as she carefully places the clear mask over Ronan’s mouth and broken nose.

Before leaving, she takes Ronan’s right hand in hers, like she always does when she checks on him. “Ronan, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” she says, but nothing happens. “Squeeze my hand, Ronan.” Again, nothing. She discontinues her efforts and leaves the room, shutting the glass door behind her.

“Buddy, you should take Cat home now,” Frank says, his voice depleted of all energy.

The clock shows that it’s close to midnight, and although my mom hasn’t called, I know she’s probably worried. I usually try to be home around eleven.

“Okay.” Steve gives his father a hug, making him promise again to call if anything changes with Ronan. “I’ll see you in the morning, Dad.”

Steve slides the door open for me and waits while I hug Frank and finally move to kiss Ronan’s right cheek. It’s still hot, but the fact that he’s breathing on his own makes me more hopeful. I gently let my hand rest on his chest, eager to feel that natural rise and fall. A little flutter expands in my heart with each breath Ronan takes. It’s as if he’s breathing for me.

Wednesday, September 1st

Cat

I feel slightly more energized on Wednesday. Ronan’s feat of breathing on his own has me feeling more hopeful, almost chipper, as I flip through my chemistry homework. Vada is helping me with it here at the hospital this afternoon. Shane, Tori, Zack, and Summer tagged along and have been watching mindless TV for the past half hour while we’re all crammed into the small room. Frank sits by Ronan’s bedside, sending text messages and emails from his cell phone.

“So, I’ve been looking through all my footage I have from the summer,” Zack says, breaking the silence in the room.

Shane looks up from the car magazine he’s read at least five times already, and Tori blinks against the setting sun shining in through the window.

“And?” Summer urges.

“Well, I put together some footage with music and stuff, and I was thinking we could all get together, like tomorrow, and watch it. It’s pretty fun, and it’s kind of nice to see Ran, you know, like talking, and walking, and laughing,” Zack says. His eyes meet each of ours.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Frank says, his voice sounding a little less strained than it has these past few days. “We’ll order pizza and watch what you got.”

At that, Zack smiles, obviously proud of himself. “We could do it at my house if…” Zack trails off, biting his lip. He’s clearly concerned that the Soult house might still be in disarray.

“Not necessary,” Frank says lightly. “Everything’s been cleaned up,” he assures us. “But I think you should bring all the footage, not just what you put together. I’ve missed so much of my boys, I would like to know what they’ve been up to.”

Zack thinks about this for a moment, and his face drops slightly, his eyebrows knitting together. “Umm… yeah, sure.”