Hold on Tight

I sat in my last class of the day, thank goodness. I was beat and it was almost seven thirty. It was Thursday, meaning I was done with classes for the week. Somehow I’d landed Fridays off this semester. How it happened, I don’t know, but I thank God for it because if I had to deal with a Friday class too, I’d go nuts. I didn’t need any more papers to write over the weekend. My hand reached for my right pocket where I kept my phone. For the hundredth time in the past ten minutes probably, I was checking for the time. I was surprised however when I felt it vibrated. Checking the caller ID I saw it was my mom. I smiled. I don’t think she ever picked up when my classes were because she always called in the middle of them. The phone stopped vibrating and then seconds later vibrated once indicating a message.

My satchel slung over my shoulder I stepped out into the fall air, there was a light breeze. I pulled the zipper on my leather jacket as I walked along the sidewalk on Marshall’s campus. I wasn’t a fan of the Cleveland State law school, but it had good education and it was cheaper than most. My mind drifted toward why my mom probably called. Chances were she was just making sure I was eating enough. I was, I don’ t think she believed that though.

Pulling out my phone I pushed the button for voice mail. It told me I had one new message.

“Michael, come home now. It’s your brother. He’s in the hospital.” Her voice was urgent, her tone scared. Bret was in the hospital; my little brother was in the hospital. Why was he in the hospital? I quickly hit the speed dial number for my mom’s phone.

“Hi, Mom, I’m coming home. Call me and tell me what’s going on.” I left a message.

I didn’t have enough money for a plane ticket to Portland, Maine, so that left driving. I drove straight through that night. Mom finally called right as I was stuffing the last item into my duffel bag. Bret had been shot and the doctors had taken him and thought they would have to operate. My baby brother had been shot, probably by some guy who didn’t even give a care. My brother was possibly dying in the hospital because of that guy.

Bright yellow dotted lines stared up at me, letting me know I was alone on this stretch of road, telling me I might be a lone forever. What’d the lines know huh? My brother would be fine. Bret was always pulling stupid stunts. He’d make it through this one he had to.

The hospital was bright; people were busy. I walked up to the desk.

“I’m here to see my brother.” I told the lady.

“Visiting hours are over, sir.” She told me, not even bothering to look up from her crossword puzzle

“Ma’am, my brother might be dying, I just drove for twelve hours straight to see him.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t see him right now.” She told me, her voice more stern. I could feel my blood pressure rising and before I could do or say something I would seriously regret a doctor came around the corner.

“Bret Hampden’s file.” He told the lady handing her a file. I looked straight at him.

“Did you just say Bret Hampden?” I asked him.

“Yeah, you know him?” I nodded.

“He’s my younger brother. I came from Ohio to see him.” Something soft entered his aging brown eyes.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to him. Your mom and dad went home on my request, so it’ll be just the two of you for a little bit.” He told me as he guided me down the hall. If it had been any other situation I would’ve enjoyed the look on the nurse’s face, but I didn’t, not now.

The doctor filled me in on his condition. He warned me that he was on a machine and that the machine was currently breathing for him because the bullet had punctured a lung and they’d had to operate. Even though he prepared me, I still was taken in by shock. I took a sharp breath as I saw him there, hooked up to tubes and wires. A machine rose and fell as it breathed life into him.

I’m not sure when the doctor left or when I actually sat down with my elbows leaning on my knees. I took in his face. It was pale and almost peaceful, like he was asleep. But I knew he wasn’t asleep. No, Bret slept all over the place on a bed, never in one spot. I brought a hand on top of the hand of his closest to me. Fingers didn’t grip around mine; they just lay there, lifeless.

“You can be so stupid sometimes, bro. Couldn’t you just stay away from trouble for one night, is that too much to ask?” I spoke to the air, to him. I wanted him to answer; I needed him to answer. He didn’t answer, he just lay there.

My eyes looked upward for a second before dropping. My hands held his as I spoke, not to him, but to God.

“God, I know you’re there, so listen, just listen. Don’t take him, if anything take me. I’m older I’ve done more. Just not him, not Bret. I know he can be frustrating, but you know him, you know his heart. He just needs more time. I need more time. God, don’t take my brother, my brother’s everything, you know that. No one can replace him, don’t make me find a replacement, God.” I buried my head in my hands and cried. I cried to God, I cried to Him, I pleaded with him I even attempting bargaining. Anything, just as long as he lived, as long as he made it through this. I fell asleep crying to God, fell asleep to the sound of the monitor, to the sound of the machine keeping him a live.

When I woke up Bret still lay there. I don’t think he moved once in the night. The monitor still beeped evenly, telling me he was still alive. Leaning back, I rolled my shoulders. My hand reached for his face, for the bangs that fell in over his eyes. I brushed them away gently, afraid that any move might break him.

“Please, God.” I pleaded again, this time short and simple, “Please, God.”

“Michael.” I heard my mom’s voice and turning around I saw her there, standing in the door. Instantly I was up on my feet, embracing her in a tight hug. Part of me expected him to wake up and look at us and say something like,

“Dude, get a hold of yourself.” He didn’t wake up though; he still slept on, unconscious to the world.

“Doctor says you’ve been here since last night.” I nodded

“Got in ‘bout ten, visiting hours were over, but he let me see him. What exactly happen mom?” she looked away from me for a second and looked at Bret.

“He was out with a couple friends. John, his one friend told us that some guy came up to them. Demanded their wallets, keys, everything; I guess they were ready to give it to him until Bret spoke up. He told the guy to leave them alone. Guess the man didn’t take no for an answer.” She was trying to be strong for him maybe, for me, and probably for herself. I took her hand in mine.

“He’ll be alright, he’ll just realize how stupid he was once he wakes up.” I told her as her eyes drifted to his bed. I gave her head a soft kiss before slipping past her and out of the room. Taking a deep, shaky breath I leaned the back of my head against the glass of the room’s window. “Why Bret?” I muttered to myself. With another breath, I stood up straight. After taking quick look into the room I left. I needed air, fresh October air.

“He gonna be ok?” a voice asked from below me as I stepped out. Looking down I saw a blond haired kid, about Bret’s age. I knew him only as John. I sat next to the twenty year old. He offered me a cigarette. I took it, I needed it.

“Bret will be out of there in no time.” I told him, reassuring him and myself. I sat there silently smoking the cigarette, feeling it’s calming affect. Deep inside I knew I shouldn’t, but I never smoke, this is a one-time thing and only because I was sitting outside, scared that my brother would be taken away from me. The smoke curled in front of me. I watched as it dissipated into the air.

John stood up next to me.

“I gotta go. Call when he wakes up.” He said as he stuffed his hands into his jean jacket and walked off. I watched him leave before I went back.

Mom was sitting in the same chair I’d sat in last night. I stood silently in the doorway. My hand went to a chain on my neck, my fingers felt for the cross on it.
“Please God, just let him live.” I whispered up to heaven. I stood there, watching as the machine breathed for him, as his chest rose and well with each spurt of oxygen put into his body.

“You want some coffee, honey?” my mom asked. She stood in front of me. I nodded to her that I did, barely taking my eyes off Bret. Moving to the chair, I took a seat. I grabbed his hand and just sort of looked at it, I compared it to mind, took in the youth of it, I memorized that hand. I remembered days of holding that hand.

18 Years Later

“Bret take your brother’s hand.” She told him. I held my hand out and instantly the three year old grabbed it. I was seven and the idea of holding my brother’s hand was still ok, but at the same I was starting to cross that barrier.

My hand was bigger than his, almost engulfing it. He swung his arm, keep up the movement even when we’d stopped. Mom was pushing the cart in front of us, sure I was watching Bret and I was, but then I saw it. It was the new ninja turtles action figure and I let go. It was only seconds later when I looked down, he wasn’t there though. I couldn’t find him anywhere. Soon my mom was panicked. I’d lost my brother. He was my responsibility and I’d lost him.

We didn’t have to search long though. We soon found him in the candy aisle. Instantly I took a hold of his hand, vowing to never let go.

Present Day

“I’ll hold it and I won’t lose you. All you have to do, kid, is wake up. I’m not letting go anytime soon, so you can’t get lost.” I said, holding his hand. If I didn’t let go and I prayed, maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t lose him.