Chapter 3
“He was unexpected.
I truly did not expect him
or his effect on me,
my heart,
my mind,
my feelings.
He was the calming sound
of the light, pitter-patter of drizzle
on an April Sunday morning
in my brutal, destructive hurricane.”
- s.g.
Chapter 3
The Fading of The Sun’s Rays: A Poetry Collection by Todd A. A.
Neil found it. His poetry book.
A snowstorm had hit New York and the surrounding regions on Sunday night. When Neil and Chris walked out of the hospital around nine PM, fat snowflakes had begun to drift from the darkened sky. As he traveled from Mount Sinai to his apartment in Long Island City, the snowfall had steadily become increasingly heavier and heavier and the temperature outside was teeth-chattering inducing. He had shaken the snow out of his hair when he’d entered the toasty apartment, and left his damp coat, mittens, scarf, and shoes by the doormat. He blew warm air into his cupped hands, attempting to thaw the numbness in his fingers.
“Forecast is predicting ten to twenty inches of snow,” Charlie had announced from where he and Knox were snuggled up on the sofa in the living room.
“That’s lovely,” he had replied, grumpily.
After a hot shower and dressing in flannel pajamas, he’d texted back-and-forth between Heather, Jeff, and Chris, then had joined his two friends in the living room to stream Avengers: Infinity War on Disney Plus. During the commercial breaks, Neil asked Charlie how his jazz band gig on Saturday had gone and if Knox had decided if he wanted to attend his cousin’s wedding in early April. Charlie had asked him how everything was going at the hospital, and Neil showed him the picture of Todd and Jeff that Heather had sent him earlier that morning.
“He’s cute,” Charlie commented.
“Sorry, Char, but Jeff is married,” he laughed while Knox threw a piece of popcorn in his direction.
“I’m not talking about him,” his best friend smirked.
“What? You mean Todd?” Neil furrowed his brows. “He’s covered in wires, bandages, and bruises. You can hardly see any of his features.”
“So?” Charlie shrugged, nonchalantly. “I can still tell he’s cute. Look at those nose freckles— they’re charming.”
“Hey,” Knox pouted. “You don’t tell me my freckles are cute.”
“Knoxious, you don’t have any freckles.”
“But would you if I did? Do you think Meeks and Cameron have cute freckles?”
“Shut up and watch the movie, babe.”
“Oh, so you hate me.”
“Oh my fucking god.”
Neil rolled his eyes as the two started to bicker. But he silently agreed with Charlie— Todd was cute.
When he had woken up on Monday, it had still been snowing and there had appeared to be at least thirteen inches already piled on the ground. There had been no way he could get to the hospital without busting his ass on a patch of ice, and he hadn’t been positive that the subway would be operating due to the weather, anyway. The snow had continued all of Monday and well into Tuesday, resulting in nearly four feet of snow— considerably more than the forecast had originally predicted. He had been trapped inside the house due to copious quantities of wintry precipitation for all of Wednesday and Thursday, and had become rather stir crazy.
Heather had wonderfully kept him up-to-date about Todd’s health. Dr. Kelly had to postpone her plans on weaning the blonde man off of the sedatives due to his neurological assessments not quite being where she wanted them at. Todd also gave Heather, Jeff, and the nurses quite a scare on Tuesday evening when his oxygen levels randomly dropped below eight-seven percent. After some minor adjustments and even closer monitoring, his oxygen levels had swiftly increased back to ninety-six percent. Dr. Kelly had assured them that everything was fine, but the separate phone calls he had received from both Jeff and Heather told him that it had done nothing but succeed in re-invigorating their stress.
On Friday, when the streets and sidewalks had finally been cleared enough with the help of salt, shovels, and plows while the sun started melting the snow, Neil had finally left the apartment and hiked his way to the hospital. However, he had decided to make a pit stop at a Barnes & Nobles on the way, where he landed himself in his current position.
At the front of the bookstore, under a sign that said “Best Books To Read Right Now”, was Todd’s poetry.
He picked up the closest copy he saw, and flipped open to the first page where the dedication was printed.
“To my moon and my better half— thank you for guiding me through my darkest nights.”
His moon. Jeffrey. He dedicated his book to his older brother. There was something remarkably touching about finding physical evidence of Todd’s equal adoration he had for his brother. Neil has witnessed firsthand the love and care Jeff felt vigorously for his younger brother, but to see how profoundly it was reciprocated through something as simple as a sentence at the start of a book made him weirdly emotional. Especially because the use of Jeff’s nickname was a nod to their deceased mother. He was curious about how their relationship with their late mother had been and how they felt about their absent father. But those were ponderings for another day.
He ended up purchasing Todd’s collection of poetry along with Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.
He also waltzed into the CVS store right next to the Barnes & Nobles to buy some snacks for all of them. He halted his footsteps in surprise when the cashier greeted him with a peppy “happy Valentine’s Day, sir!” when he entered through the automatic sliding door. He nodded at the cashier with a smile then checked his phone, and lo-and-behold the date ‘February 14th’ appeared on his lock screen. Ah yes, another loveless Valentine’s Day for him. Neil perused the shelves and selected chips, drinks, and candies for himself, Heather, and Jeff. And as he headed toward the checkout counter, he ultimately found himself stopping at the giant Valentine’s Day display the store had. While he loathed the capitalistic greediness, without thinking, he grabbed a few boxes of chocolates and a teddy bear. Once he exited the CVS, he shoved his purchases into his backpack then walked to the subway station.
As the hospital came into view, Neil was reminded again that it’d been almost a week-and-half since the hit-and-run. Police have yet to catch the suspect, who had recently taken to stealing cars and swapping license plates now. While Patrick Smallwood was a criminal and an asshole, he had to admit that the man was cunning. He would’ve thought that someone stupid enough to get drunk and hit a person with their car wouldn’t be able to evade the police for this long— yet, he was unfortunately proven wrong. Neil had to quit checking the news for updates with how aggravated it made him that they still hadn’t caught the man responsible for putting Todd in the hospital. While the young man has progressed, Neil still felt like his recovery was only just scratching the surface. Like they were in a long, winding tunnel and the end was nowhere to be seen.
The receptionists at the hospital recognized him now as a regular, which made signing in fast and easy. When he entered the room, Heather and Jeff were in their usual spots— Jeff holding his brother’s hand and Heather typing away on her laptop in the corner of the room. Heather was able to switch the format of her classes to be asynchronous for the spring semester, because she had the hindsight to record all of her lectures over the summer in case she ever had an emergency crop up. Unfortunately, Jeff’s job required him to be in-person, and his two week leave would be over on Monday. Jeff had gone on a long tangent and rant about how worried he was about leaving Todd all day, but Neil and Heather dispelled his fears as they promised they’d be with his brother all day while he’s at work, frequently update him, and call him if anything major happened.
“Hey, Neil,” Heather said, looking up from her laptop.
“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked, setting down his backpack and settling in the seat beside the woman.
“The same old, same old. Students not reading the syllabus or logging into their Canvas to check when due dates are. Kids asking for extensions on assignments or emailing me random memes or begging me to reopen a test because they thought this or that— yada, yada, yada.”
Neil chuckled, “sounds really fun.”
“While being a professor definitely has its perks and it’s rewarding to see my students grow and learn, but man, sometimes I wonder how some of these kids got accepted into an Ivy League,” she joked, shaking her head.
“What course do you teach?”
“BIO320, undergraduate upper-level genetics.”
“Damn,” Neil whistled, impressed. “I’m glad I never had to take anything more than general biology.”
“Todd felt the same way,” Heather snickered.
“I wasn’t aware that he went to college. Did he just go for two years for his associates?”
Jeff piped up from where was seated, “Todd started homeschooling halfway through middle school, and graduated high school when he was fifteen. He attended Boston University, graduated with his bachelor's degree in creative writing and a minor in classic literature in three years, then received his masters of arts in English literature in one year.”
Neil’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, “he graduated with a bachelors and masters by the time he was nineteen?”
“That’s right,” Jeff said proudly. “He’ll tell you he’s not all that smart, but don’t let that fool you. He’s a genius.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that when he wakes up,” he teased.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Oh, Neil,” Heather cut in. “I forgot to text you before you got here, but Jeff and I were hoping to go out on a date tonight for Valentine’s Day, and we were wondering if you’d be comfortable staying here with Todd until we get back? It’ll likely be pretty late.”
Neil blinked in surprise, and he looked over at Jeff then back at Heather, “you two trust me to stay with your brother alone?”
“Of course,” Jeff laughed. “Neil, you’ve been amazing these past two weeks since we first met you. I trust you to keep him company and I trust your judgement. I also know you’ll relay any information to us either through text or when we’re back. Either way, there’s no one else we’d rather have.”
“Not even Chris?”
“Well, Chris is on a date tonight so she was unavailable,” Jeff said, smirking. “But seriously, Neil, we have faith in you. Just sit here, hold his hand, talk to him, whatever. You’ll be fine.”
“You want me to hold his hand?”
“You don’t have to,” Heather said gently. “But the physical contact is just an additional way for him to know he’s not by himself.”
Don't overthink it, Perry.
He nodded, he could handle that, “yeah, yeah. I can do that. You two deserve a nice night out. I’ll hold down the fort, no problem.”
“Thank you, Neil,” Heather beamed, placing a quick peck on his cheek. His ears turned red.
“Thanks, Neil. We appreciate you,” Jeff echoed his wife, then returned to running his fingers through his brother’s sandy blonde hair.
Around four-thirty PM, Heather and Jeff swapped their clothes at the hospital into more formal dress wear, and reminded him to call them if anything changed or if he needed anything. He promptly reassured them and shooed them off with the wave of his hands saying,
“Get out of here, you rapscallions! Don't do anything I wouldn’t do, and have her back by curfew, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeff replied sarcastically as Heather tittered.
When the two vanished out the door, leaving him to his own devices in a hospital room with their unconscious brother, Neil took a moment to regain his bearings and ponder his next steps. What could he do for the next handful of hours? It was peculiar, he’d never been left alone to watch over Todd. It was always Heather or Jeff or Chris sitting at the head of the bed keeping a close eye on the young man. He knew there was a very little chance of messing up or doing anything wrong, but he was reluctant to go near the bed. But then again, he didn’t want Todd to subconsciously believe he’s by oneself.
He took a deep breath, rubbed a fresh layer of hand sanitizer on his hands, placed a second face mask over his first one— just to be safe— and occupied the seat at the head of the bed. With a slightly shaky hand, he reached out to the young man’s limp hand and allowed his warm hand to envelope Todd’s. He was startled at how cold the blonde’s fingers were. Initially, he wondered if he should notify the nurse about that. But then he remembered Jeff mentioning that Todd always has cold hands, even when he was a child, due to naturally having poor circulation.
He’s fine, Neil told himself. This is normal. Stop fretting.
He hoped some of the warmth from his skin would leech onto Todd’s. After a brief hesitation, Neil dove into telling his backstory to the unconscious man. He talked on and on about the shenanigans he and Charlie would get up to when they were kids. He talked about meeting Knox, then Meeks and Pitts, and lastly Cameron and attending Welton Academy with them. He talked about Mr. Keating and the Dead Poets Society. He talked about his complicated relationship with his parents— how he still loved them even after how much they’d hurt him. He talked about how he missed his mother, because she had tried to stand up for her son when his father had threatened to enroll him into military school. He talked about how he wished his mother would just divorce his father, because he knew she’d be so much happier without him. He talked about how he despised his father. He even talked about stealing his father’s gun, his therapy appointments, and the daily antidepressants he had been prescribed after his attempt.
Luckily, he was able to take breaks as he spoke for hours, resting his vocal cords, when the nurses would come in to check his vitals and ensure he’s receiving the proper medications, nutrients, and fluids through his NG tube. Sometimes they’d have him leave the room for a moment so they could clean his surgical sites and rebandage his wounds or clean out his catheter of any urine and waste.
When he grew bored of talking about himself, he decided to play some music through his phone. Heather had given him a list of Todd’s favorite artists and songs, so he had created an entire playlist on Spotify one night, when he couldn’t sleep, dedicated with music for the blonde man. He had discovered that he quite enjoyed all the artists Todd loved, as he listened to songs from Noah Kahan, Chappel Roan, Reneé Rapp, the Lumineers, Mumford and Sons, Lord Huron, Cage the Elephant, the Wallows, and of course Hozier. He also learned from Jeff that Todd was a fan of R&B music, so he also included Mary J. Blige, Frank Ocean, Stevie Wonder, Rihanna, and Usher. Todd was certainly, unknowingly, expanding his music tastes from his typical Broadway soundtracks.
Around nine PM, Neil shut off the music to charge his phone and reached for his backpack to pull out Leaves of Grass to read out loud. Just as he was about to start reading, the nurses kicked him out so they could give Todd a sponge bath and change out his sheets. Neil wandered into the hospital cafeteria and ate what he believed to be meatloaf and washed it down with a Dr. Pepper. Usually when they washed Todd and changed his sheets they ran medical exams and brain scans to keep track of how he was doing. So, Neil wasn’t allowed access into the room for a while, and around eleven PM, nurse Shayna informed him from where he was lounging in the waiting room that he was good to come back.
Once Neil re-situated himself at Todd’s head and had their hands clasped together again, he spent a solid twenty minutes just staring at the up and down movement of Todd’s chest as he watched his rhythmic breathing, while humming random show tunes and ditties. He also set the snacks, chocolates, and stuffed bear on the table next to the hospital bed. When eleven-thirty rolled around, he reached for his backpack and pulled out Leaves of Grass again to read out loud. He was mindful to not jostle the man too much as he kept one hand holding Todd’s while he flipped to the first page of the book. He cleared his throat,
““I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as
good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease…
observing a spear of summer grass.
Houses and rooms are full of
perfumes… the shelves are
crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself, and
know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me
also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere…””
That was how Heather and Jeff found them past one in the morning— Neil clinging to Todd as he read aloud Walt Whitman’s collection of poetry. He was so enraptured by the words on the page, the feeling of another hand in his, and the sound of beeping and steady breathing that he hadn’t noticed them standing in the doorway until Jeff spoke.
“Walt Whitman, eh?”
Neil nearly dropped the book with how violently he jolted in surprise. Heather and Jeff both laughed at his reaction.
“Oh god,” he closed the book and rested it on his lap. Had his other hand not been occupied, he would’ve dramatically clutched his chest. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” Heather said, as the couple strolled in. “So, Walt Whitman?”
“Yes, Leaves of Grass,” he showed her the book.
“Good choice,” Jeff smiled. He and his wife both looked far more relaxed than he’d seen them in a while. They must’ve had a good time. “Todd loves Walt Whitman.”
“My high school English teacher introduced him to me. He called him ‘Uncle Walt’,” Neil reminisced. “So, how was your date night?”
“Oh, it was lovely,” Heather gasped, beaming. “I know he doesn’t seem like it, but Jeff is quite the romantic. He had the whole night planned out.”
“Oh, really?” Neil looked at Jeff. “Mr. Casanova here, huh?”
“Watch yourself, Perry,” Jeff warned, jokingly.
“Thank you for staying so late. I’m sure you’d like to head home,” Heather pointed out. “Any news?”
“Nope, Shayna said his vitals are great, his assessments are looking positive, and his brain scan appeared promising,” he ticked off with his fingers. “And I didn’t mind hanging out here one bit. Todd is fantastic company, even though he didn’t talk much.”
Jeff laughed. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Neil, but Todd also doesn’t talk much when he’s awake.”
“What?” Neil gaped, genuinely shocked. “But you and Heather and his best friend, Chris, are all pretty outgoing.”
“He’s always been quiet. When he was a baby, our mother had worried that Todd had a speech delay. After taking him to a specialist, it turned out his speech was actually advanced for his age. The kid just didn’t feel like talking.” Jeff shrugged with a fond smile. “He’d rather his writing do all the talking for him.”
“So, you’re telling me he’s an introvert?”
“Absolutely. Did his love for books and cats not give it away?”
“Huh. I guess not.”
“Good night, Neil.”
“Good night, you two.”
—-
On Saturday, Dr. Kelly excitedly announced that she felt that Todd was ready to be weaned off of the sedatives.
Everything was looking good from a medical standpoint, and she was confident that his lungs and brain injury were healed enough for him to regain consciousness. She did warn them that they had to be careful with how gradual the process of weaning him off the sedatives needed to be, because he was at a high risk of seizures or relapsing if he woke up too quickly. She also wanted to wean him completely off his supplemental oxygen to test how strong his lungs were, but reminded them that he was still extremely susceptible to pneumonia and infections due to his complications and now that he was without a spleen. Heather, Jeff, Chris, and Neil were too ecstatic about the possibility of Todd waking soon to be deterred by the other information.
After a separate discussion with Heather and Jeff and paperwork, the nurses began weaning Todd from the sedatives around noon.
“How long until he wakes up?” Chris asked Dr. Kelly, nervously toying with her hair.
“Well, I can’t exactly say. It will take time for the medication to fully exit his system, and while some people wake up within twenty-four to forty-eight hours, Todd has been in a coma for twelve days. It could take a few days or it could take weeks, unfortunately. It’s hard to predict how his body will respond once he’s weaned, especially after his body experienced such a significant amount of trauma.”
“But he will wake up, right?” Chris prodded. He, Heather, and Jeff stared at the blonde woman and the doctor intently.
“Um,” Dr. Kelly fiddled with her pen and the clipboard. “There is a chance of him never waking up.”
“What?” Heather and Chris gasped out in unison.
“Are you telling me my brother may never wake back up?” Jeff demanded, marching up to the doctor, as his wife grabbed his arm as a silent plea to not do anything rash.
“Yes, Mr. Anderson, but that is a potential for any patient placed under a medically induced coma, regardless of severity of injury or cause,” Dr. Kelly explained, professionally— not at all intimidated by their outrage. “Your brother will likely wake up on his own at his own pace, but there’s always the tiniest chance that Todd’s body decides he is safer in an unconscious state. We’ve seen people take years to wake up, but it’s ultimately up to the family on how they move forward if the patient doesn’t regain consciousness within a certain timeframe.”
Neil watched, horrified, as Jeff staggered backwards and sharply hunched over and vomited the contents of his stomach into the wastebasket near the door of the hospital room. He couldn’t bring his feet to move as Dr. Kelly, one of the nurses, and Heather ushered Jeff out of the room to comfort the distressed man. A different nurse whisked the trash can away to dispose of the bag, and clean and sanitize the receptacle.
Chris turned to him with a melancholy expression, “I fucking hate hospitals.”
Neil heaved a weary sigh.
“Tell me about it.”
—-
Todd was fully weaned off the sedatives by Monday afternoon, and thus the waiting game began.
Neil was forced to relive the past as Jeff and Heather dissolved into an anxious pair of bundles of nerves, just as they had been the first night he’d met them while Todd was undergoing surgery. Neil had to remind the older man to eat proper meals and force Heather to take breaks from her laptop so she didn’t work herself to death. He had even asked nurse Shayna to make sure the married couple were sleeping during the night instead of fretting over their brother. Chris, bless her heart, called every day during her lunch hour just to ramble about anything and everything to help distract Heather and Jeff. If anyone had told Neil that he and Chris, as twenty-one and twenty-two year olds, would be role playing as mother and father over two thirty year olds he would’ve alerted an insane asylum.
Yet, here he was.
On Wednesday, Neil had been grateful, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, when Dr. Kelly informed them in the morning that she recommended they gather some of Todd’s belongings that would be of comfort to him for when he woke up. She had also sternly instructed them that each item they brought in had to be thoroughly decontaminated before the blonde man could touch any of it. Neil was able to convince Heather and Jeff to go together to Todd’s apartment and pick out what they thought the younger boy would appreciate having while bed-ridden in the ICU wing of the hospital. And when the two dashed off to their car, Neil sat by the bed and held Todd’s hand.
He had to admit, he cherished the peaceful moments alone— just him and Todd.
Ever since Jeff and Heather entrusted him to watch over their brother to go on a date night, they’d been much more lax about leaving him to monitor the blonde man as they focused on other tasks and dedicated time toward their jobs. Jeff was now back at his law firm full-time from eight to five, and Heather often had work phone calls to answer or zoom meetings to attend during the day. And Neil was perfectly content with playing music or reading poetry to Todd in the meantime. When Jeff and Heather were less busy in the evening, they would kindly coax him to leave and go spend time with his friends. Neil ate dinner with Knox and Charlie more frequently, and hung out with them before they all went to sleep. He’s managed to spend some quality time with Ginny, meeting-up on NYU’s campus, and exploring all that New York has to offer. He even had time to reunite with Meeks, Pitts, and Cameron and rehash to them his most recent life news.
He had missed his friends, and hadn’t realized how much time he’d spent away from them while being at the hospital every single day from sunup to sun down.
Watching over Todd and nervously waiting for him to wake up was like a full-time job. Although, it didn’t feel like a job to him. Charlie often expressed his worries about Neil making sure he took care of himself and didn’t burn himself out, but Neil quite enjoyed lounging around a hospital room all day to keep the blonde man company. While many would find it boring, he found it fulfilling to know that he was being of service. While he did yearn for stage acting and scouring for auditions, he also didn’t miss the constant rejections from agents and producers. This was a much needed break from all of that, if he were to be honest.
On Friday, Heather and Jeff declared that Neil should bask in and make the most of the gorgeous weather before another predicted snowstorm hit the area next week. He was to not visit the hospital and entertain himself away from the beeping of monitors and scents of disinfectants. So, Neil spent his weekend cozied up in his bedroom and reading through The Fading of the Sun’s Rays. He discovered that he couldn’t bring himself to put the book down. Todd’s writing was impeccable. The way he conveyed his emotions through the pages, the imagery drawn up from so few words, and the divine balance between dark tones, humorous storytelling, and sweet moments had Neil captivated from beginning to end.
There was a poem named Delilah that was obviously solely about his cat that legitimately made Neil tear up at how precious it was. There was also a sweet one named Conceived By that had to be about his late mother and referenced tender moments shared between them. A part of Neil was relieved to know that Todd (and likely Jeff as well) had a good relationship with his mom before she died. Tears to Fill Space was a painful yet powerful poem about exploring grief and coping mechanisms. Then, there was one titled Lingering Shadows that was a heavier piece than he had expected, and Apologies to Myself that had Neil’s heart constricting in his chest— both pieces clearly revolving around abuse.
There was a funny poem called Blonde to Blonde that Neil assumed was written about his friendship with Chris Noel. The tone was light and airy and whimsical, and made Neil smile wide. There were even some love poems in Todd’s book— some were saccharinely sweet, others were filled with yearning, and a few hinted at desire and lust. They left Neil wondering who was lucky enough to have caught the blonde’s attention and stolen his affections to have such beautiful poetry written about them. Was it strange for him to wish someone would write such devoted love poems about him? Though, no one could match the eloquence and articulate way Todd’s writing style conveyed.
God, he was jealous that someone could be so talented.
He ended up sending Mr. Keating a very long email, and included a link to purchase Todd’s book online since his poetry collection wasn’t being sold in the UK, yet.
And while Todd still hasn’t woken up, the police still haven’t caught Patrick Smallwood, and Neil still hasn’t built up the courage to contact his parents— life was okay. Dare he say that life was good, even.
Then, on Monday, February 24th, exactly three weeks since the incident occurred, Neil sat in Mount Sinai’s Hospital holding Todd’s chilly hand, while reading aloud a collection of Emily Dickinson’s poetry. He had finished reading through Leaves of Grass on Friday, and on Sunday, he nabbed more poetry books from Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, and Maya Angelou to read to Todd.
Heather had to hitch a taxi to Columbia for an important lecture that couldn’t be done online and Jeff had work where he’d be attending meeting after meeting all day. He had texted Neil that he may arrive at the hospital later than usual if the meetings continue to run over their set time constraints. They had both texted him earlier in their group chat talking about having pizza for dinner tonight, but they didn’t decide who would be the one to pick it up. He had recently texted them that there were no updates from the nurses or doctor.
It was two in the afternoon and Todd was still unresponsive and Neil was keeping himself entertained.
He read,
““Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can call the definition
So clear of victory
As he defeated— dying—
One whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!””
He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to squeeze Todd’s hand after punctuating the last word, but he did. It was not a hard or firm squeeze, just a gentle ‘hi, I’m here’.
But he was caught completely off guard when the hand in his grasp twitched, then squeezed back.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He used his free hand to urgently slam down on the “nurse call button”.