Without You, I'm Just Me

It was all over the news that Rob had shot and killed himself at our house. He shot at Lewy first, missing, and then he shot Naomi, and then he shot himself in the head. He got Naomi in her back.

No one knew what happened; Lewy and Benji both refused to talk to anyone. Lewy had a broken arm, and Benji was traumatized. They said Naomi was in surgery, they weren't saying much about it.

I landed in Chicago and my dad picked me up. I told him to take me to the hospital, and he didn't refuse. My heart was still drilling against my ribcage; "What happened? When did he get there?"

My dad shook his head in disbelief, "It's...complicated. The main thing is Benji found Naomi's phone and called Ricky and told him Naomi wasn't moving. Lewy had hid in the kitchen after Rob shot at him; he's been talking to the police."

I squeezed my eyes shut, "How bad is Naomi?"

"They don't know, the bullet nicked her lung. She's...there's so much wrong with her."

"What did he do?" My jaw set.

My dad shook his head again, in disbelief, "Lewis said Rob came in when they were already in bed, and grabbed Naomi out of her room. The boys ran after him, yelling and crying; he had a knife," my dad seemed to be thinking, remembering as he spoke, "Lewis said he cut her ponytail off with the knife and then he stabbed her."

"Where?"

"Under her belly button, it's not a life threatening wound..." my dad exhaled, "and then he began to beat her up and she was screaming for the boys to hide and they did, but Lewy went out to help Naomi, and Rob pushed Lewis to the floor and he broke his hand. Naomi's got fractured ribs...so much more; Lee has been filling me in, nothing's happened, she's in surgery to stop the bleeding."

"Where's Benji? Is he okay?"

"He won't talk," my dad said, "he's with Amy and Abbey; he was just released."

"Lew only has a broken hand?"

"Yeah, that's it. He's the only one that can fill in the gaps in what happened."

I was consumed with guilt and anger. I had so many things built up inside and I wanted to scream. Most of all, I wanted to cry and I wanted my kids and Naomi.

I wanted this to be a terrible nightmare.

"How the fuck did this happen?" I cursed to myself.

"I tried," my dad muttered quickly, "it looked good in court. I don't see how the jury just...I can't even explain it."

I was silent. I had nothing but confusing thoughts swirling around my head. Any given moment I could explode with a powerful spur of curse filled rants and shouts.

"Dad," I swallowed, "do you think she's...how does it look for her?"

My dad looked at me gravely, only for a moment, "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Yeah," I spoke nearly breathlessly.

My dad took a few seconds before answering, "Speaking honestly, I never prayed so frequently before for something. I don't...the way it's been, I'm praying for a miracle, Pete."

That was enough for me to order him to stop the car. My dad pulled over on the side of the street near the hospital; I opened the door and threw up at the curb. I was physically sick with the thought of Naomi dying.

The one person in this world who doesn't deserve to die was on the verge. She was fighting it and the way she had been a few months ago, I'm afraid she'll throw her hands up. Naomi couldn't give up, she means the world to our kids and me, and we couldn't continue on without her. Not after only a few years together. All the guilt in the entire world settled itself in my mind, body and soul.


My mom and Lee were with Lewy when we got to the hospital. More guilt piled on when I saw my son sitting up in his hospital bed crying. He had tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and his voice was raspy while speaking to Lee.

When he saw me, he tried to get out the bed, so I hurried over. I carefully hugged him, minding his arm that was positioned up and wrapped. He had an IV in his arm, and he was shaking when my arms were around him. His face was flushed, pink with the red bumps from the chicken pox still present. He didn't look like he had the flu anymore, he just looked drained and tired.

"Daddy," he said tiredly.

I exhaled, holding in my tears; "Lew, are you okay?"

He nodded; he sat back once I let go of him, "I fell on my arm."

"I'm..." I swallowed the lump growing, "You'll be okay, buddy. You're amazing, you--you did a good job protecting Benny and mommy."

Lewy shook his head, "I couldn't stop him, daddy. I tried, but he's too big!"

He was going to cry again, so I quickly cooed to him, "Hey, hey, Lew, it's okay. It's okay, buddy, you did great! You helped Benji, you're a hero."

Lewy sniffed and rubbed his face with his arm; my mom grabbed a tissue and cleaned his face for him. My stomach was tangled in knots, I had no clue what to do or say to my kid. What the hell do you say to a 5 year old who witness some crazy person try and kill him, his mom and then himself?

"Hello?" An unfamiliar voice came into the room; it was a nurse. "Hi, we need to clear the room. We're going to send little Peter down to the ER now."

"What for?" I asked shortly.

"To set the pins in his hand and arm," the nurse said, "are you his father?"

"Yeah," I breathed.

"Good, the doctor wants to speak to you while we prep Peter."

"Lewis," I corrected her, "he likes to be called Lewis."

She nodded, "Sorry about that. If you all would please say a quick good luck to Lewis, I can get him ready."

Lee, my mom and dad left the room; Lee hung around with me to speak to the doctor. He didn't speak to me, Lee looked deep in thought.

The doctor came over to me and Lee; he held a white folder and chart in his hand; "I'm Dr. Jeff Copeland, which one of you is Peter's father?"

"I am," I said, "this is grandfather, Lee."

Dr. Copeland hummed and began to show us x-rays of Lewy's hand and arm; the bones in his tiny hand were shattered at the wrist and his arm had hairline fractures in the bone. They were going to put pins and rods in his hand that would be set for 8 weeks and then his and hand would remain in a cast for 16 weeks to heal.

"When will he be released?" I asked softly.

"The day after tomorrow. We'll see how he reacts to the pain medication. He isn't allergic to any medication, is he?"

"No," I answered, "he just had asthma."

Dr. Copeland nodded, filling out his chart.

"How long will surgery be?" Lee questioned.

"It's a delicate process with the tiny bones," Dr. Copeland tweaked his lips, "Give or take 2 to 3 hours. He'll be set in his recovery room, he'll be on pain medication, he'll be very sleepy and thirsty. Peter will need all the rest he can get."

I rubbed my hand over my face, "Uh, doc, call him Lewis. He hates to be called Peter."

Dr. Copeland cracked a small smile, "Sure thing. Lewis will be fine and you can see him after he's recovered some."

"Thank you," Lee and I both said.

We returned to the room where Lewy was. The nurse had already administered the anesthesia into Lewy's IV. He was drowsy and crying softly; "Daddy, I'm scared."

I let some tears fall, "I'm scared too, Lew. But, I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Promise?" His voice was hazy, slurring.

"Yeah, I promise."

He sniffed, "Tell Benji I miss him..." And then he said something in their little language.

I smiled, rubbing my cheeks free of tears, "Sure thing, buddy."

Lewy fell asleep after that. I petted his hair; the nurse, along with a few others, came in and began to wheel his bed out. Lee and I followed, watching his bed wheel down the corridor and then through double doors.

"He's tough as nails," Lee commented, "I can't believe how brave he is."

I nodded in agreement, "Yeah. He is."

Lee turned to me, "I have to check in on Benji. C'mon, Pete."

I followed him, he knew what to do. I just wanted to know what was happening with Naomi; "Is she okay?" I asked when we were in the elevator, heading down to head to the opposite wing.

"They won't let anyone see her. They said they stopped the bleeding in her lung, but they're keeping an eye on her," his voice cracked suddenly. "That motherfucker tortured her for 2 hours before he tried to kill them."

"How the hell did he get in?"

"He kicked in the door," Lee sniffed and rubbed his face with the sleeve of his paint stained coat, "he caught them off guard, it was 10, they were asleep. They were supposed to come over, but Naomi had said Lewy was too tired to leave the house, so I told them that I'd pick them up to have breakfast in the morning," the elevator stopped and we stepped out.

"Benji called me," I said, "my phone somehow captured 10 minutes of what happened."

Lee looked at me, "Of what?"

"Benji in the closet, Rob firing 3 times and then it was just Benji in the dark, crying. The iPad died right when Benji left the closet to help Lewy."

"You should give it to the police," Lee murmured as he began to lead the way to the adult recovery wing. "Maybe the police will actually believe women when they say their exes want to kill them."

"I'm sorry, Lee," I said, "I wish I had answered my phone--"

Lee stopped just as we were crossing the corridor and turned to me; "This is no ones fault but that coward's lying in the morgue. You didn't do anything, neither did Lewis, Benji or Naomi. Rob was a fucking animal and he decided to do all this; it wasn't preventable, and I'm sure if you had stayed, you'd be in a hospital bed too."

I could only nod at his stern words. Lee have a nod back and continued on, I followed him.