I Can't Believe This

My mind was racing. Thousands of ‘what ifs’ kept protruding into my brain. No matter how much I tried not to think about it, about what could happen, my brain denied me any peace.

The drive to the hospital took forever. It didn’t matter that the whole way we had been doing at least 60 mph. It hadn’t been fast enough. But we’d finally made it. The EMT’s had carried him from the ambulance into the emergency room, then disappeared with him behind some doors. When I’d tried to follow them, I’d had the door slammed in my face and a nurse tell me that only personnel were allowed beyond that point. Let me just say that resisting the urge to kill her had been a true test of my willpower.

I paced in front of the two swinging doors they’d taken Billie through for almost twenty minutes before deciding to ask the nurse at the reception desk what was going on.

“Excuse me,” I said.

The nurse didn’t even look up, she just continued to type on her computer.

“Excuse me,” I tried again, reminding myself to keep my anger in check.

“Hold on a minute,” she retorted.

“I just have one question, really. It will only take a second.” I shifted my weight a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, and waited for the nurse to look up. She didn’t. She didn’t say anything either. “Hey!” That got her attention. She looked up at me and glared.

“I told you to wait for a min–”

“Listen!” I interrupted. “My boyfriend is somewhere in this hospital and I have no idea where! I have no fucking clue if he’s okay or if he’s going to be okay or anything! Now all I want to know is where he is and what’s going on! Is that too fucking much to ask for?” I screeched.

The nurse didn’t so much as even blink. I guess she was used to hysterical people yelling at her. All she did was hand me a clipboard. “You need to fill this out before I can give you any information. Hospital policy,” she added snidely. Or, there was the chance that she was just a bitch. I was betting on the latter.

My breathing became shallow, and I could feel myself trembling, anger pulsing through me. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, then I’ll go and fill this out?” I suggested, my voice strangely calm despite the fact that I wanted to leap over her desk and choke the life out of her.

“No can do. Just fill that out, bring it back, and then I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on.” She gestured to the waiting area, then handed me a pen. “Go sit down.”

“Goddamn it! Why–” I broke off suddenly. I knew that if I said anything more that I’d just end up screaming at her and that wouldn’t get me anywhere. “Fine. I will go sit down,” I stated quietly. “But when I am finished with all of these forms I want to know what is going on with my boyfriend.” I stepped away from the reception desk and collapsed into one of the small cushioned chairs in the waiting room.

I was halfway through the first form when I felt a hand gently lay itself on my shoulder.

“Hey,” Tré said. “How is he? I was following the ambulance but you guys turned off and I got stuck at a red light. I got here as soon as I could.”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. I set the pen down on the clipboard and glanced up at him. “I don’t know. They told I need to fill all of this out before they can tell me anything, and even then they don’t know if they’ll be able to say exactly what’s wrong. You know, because they just admitted him.”

Tré nodded slightly and eased the clipboard away from me.

“I have to finish,” I told him.

“I’ll finish this in a minute okay?” He stood up and offered me his free hand. “Come on, let’s go find out what the hell is going on.”

We walked back over to the nurse’s desk and Tré cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Could you please tell us what’s going on with our friend? His name is Billie Joe Armstrong. He was hit by a car about thirty-five minutes ago. They brought him into the emergency room awhile ago?”

“I’m sorry but you need to fill out the paperwork before I can–”

“Please. Just tell us anything you can. I’ll go and finish the paperwork if you’ll just tell his girlfriend,” He paused, pointing at me, “what’s going on.”

The nurse, whose name I finally noticed was Debbie, was quiet for a moment. “I really shouldn’t…” She looked over to me and her face softened slightly. “But I will.” She typed something into her computer. “He’s in surgery right now and a room is being prepped for him.”

“Surgery? What kind of surgery? For what exactly? Is he going to be okay?” I couldn’t seem to make the questions stop. I had to know that he was going to be okay.

“We don’t have that information at this time. You’ll have to wait to speak with the doctor who’s attending to him. I’m sorry.”

I nodded slowly and looked around the hospital. The room became fuzzy around the edges. “I need to sit down,” I said to Tré.

His arm wound around my shoulders and he led me back to where we had been sitting. “Listen, I’m going to finish filling this out. Mike is here too, he’s getting you some food.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll know soon what’s going on.”

He was right. We would know soon enough whether or not Billie Joe was going to be okay. The image of Billie lying in the road, covered in blood, and unconscious came back to me. He’d looked so lifeless. And once we were in the ambulance it had been even worse. Not only had there still been blood, but they’d also stuck a few different tubes into his body. An IV they’d said. He’d lost so much blood. They’d also had to do CPR for awhile, to get him to start breathing again.

I closed my eyes, willing the images to go away, then opened them again. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear what’s going on,” I said, my voice barely audible.

***

“Billie!” I screamed. “Billie!” I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, but it wasn’t quick enough. Hordes of people blocked my way, I just couldn’t get through them. I pushed, kicked, and shoved my way through the best I could, knocking down anyone standing in front of me. “Billie Joe!” I yelled once more, hoping that people would understand that I needed to reach him before it was too late.

The crowd around me disappeared suddenly. I was alone on the sidewalk. My running slowed. I’d finally reached him. Kneeling next to his still body, I lifted his head into my lap. “Billie?” I cooed, desperately trying to break through his unconscious state. He didn’t move. “You have to wake up, okay? Come on, I know you like to sleep, but this is ridiculous.” I wrapped one arm around his back, gently shaking him. “Wake up.”

I removed my arm from behind his back and choked back a scream. It was covered in bright red blood. It was everywhere; dripping from my hands, pooling on the gray sidewalk beneath us. I looked up, trying to get someone’s attention. There was no one there. No cars on the road, no pedestrians crossing the street. None of the businesses were even open. That’s when I noticed that everything around Billie Joe and I was in black and white. Everything. Except the blood. The vibrant red swam across my vision, it began to seep out of the sidewalk and the street, quickly covering Billie’s body and my legs. I had to get us out of there. Standing up, I grabbed Billie Joe’s arms trying to drag him away from the puddle of blood surrounding us. It was no use, I couldn’t get a good enough grip on his arms; the blood was too slippery.

“Just let him go,” a voice said behind me.

“No! Now damn it, help me!”

“I can’t do that. I won’t do that.” The voice seemed closer than before.

I turned around to face the bastard who was just standing around, letting Billie Joe die. “Help me!”

“Help me,” Ethan mocked. “I’m not going to help him, Lisa. And if you were smart, you wouldn‘t either. He doesn‘t deserve to live.”

His body shimmered, then disappeared.

Pure hatred coursed through my body. Every molecule of my body felt like a livewire. I’d do it myself then. I would rescue Billie, no matter what. I turned back to where he had been lying; a gasp escaped my throat. He was rapidly sinking into a hole that was filled to the brim with blood. His eye were wide and frantically searching around him. He caught my eye and began to tread the blood. I reached out to him, our fingers almost touching, but it was too late. I was too late. A look of disbelief crossed his face as he sunk below the surface of the blood.

My eyes snapped open. I scanned my surroundings. No sidewalk. Chairs; lots of chairs, but no blood. Hospital, I recalled. I sat up, rubbing some of the sleep from my eyes. It had been a dream. Thank God. My heart was racing double time, my breath coming in short, quick gasps. “Jesus Christ,” I muttered.

“Hey, you’re awake. Good, I was going to wake you up anyway. The doctor’s ready to talk with us. Billie Joe’s out of surgery,” Tré finished.

When I didn’t answer him he gently shook my shoulder. “Lisa? Did you hear me?”

Looking up at him, I took in his worried face. “I’m, uh, I’m fine. Just tired? I think. I’ll be fine, uh,” I said, lamely. I stood up wobbling slightly. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Um, eleven hours,” he answered, after checking his watch.

“Eleven hours?” I repeated skeptically. “Eleven hours? Fuck, Billie was in surgery for eleven hours? You did say he just got out, right?” I could feel my voice rising a few pitches, preparing to go into panic mode. “I have to see him. I have to know that he–”

“We can’t see him right now. He’s, uh, we can’t see him right now,” Tré said. His gaze drifted to the floor, to the walls, to the chairs. He looked everywhere but at me.

“Tré,” I said. “What’s wrong? What happened while I was asleep?” I dug my fingers into his left arm. “Tell me what’s going on!”

He completely avoided the question, instead saying, “There’s the doctor. He’ll tell you everything. Hey. There’s Mike. Emilie showed up while you were asleep, too.”

My head turned automatically in the direction Tré was looking. Sure enough Mike and Emilie were walking toward us, both of them holding coffee.

“Hey, have you talked to the doctor yet?” Emilie asked, wrapping me into a hug.

“No, not yet.” I pulled back and gave Mike a hug also. “I was just going to. Will you guys come with me? I don’t want to…I just don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course,” Mike said.

We crossed the fifteen feet or so between us and the doctor, coming to a stop a couple feet away. “Excuse me,” I said.

The doctor, Doctor Wells, turned around to face us, a look of deep concentration on his face. His eyes darted back and forth across some piece of paper on his clipboard a couple more times before finally resting on me. “Ah, yes. You must be…”He scanned the page one more time. “Lisa Hulings?” But he pronounced my last name ‘Hullings‘, instead of ‘Hugh-lings’. A common mistake.

“Hulings,” I corrected automatically. “Lisa Hulings..”

“Right, Miss Hulings. Well I bet you’re pretty anxious to hear what’s been going on for the past eleven hours.”

I nodded solemnly.

“Yes, well. As you probably have already heard from his other friends,” He gestured to Mike, Tré, and Emilie. “He was in surgery for quite awhile. Although, it wasn’t the full eleven hours. We spent the first hour getting his body to stabilize before we prepped him for the surgery. So really he was only in surgery for around nine hours.”

My breath caught. “Nine hours?” I squeaked, unable to imagine Billie lying on an operating table for that long, or at all, really.

“Yes, we had to perform multiple procedures on him. He was badly hurt. But he pulled through magnificently.”

My entire body relaxed. “So he’s okay? Or he will be?” I just wanted to double check.

Dr. Wells’ face lost some of its composure. “Well, when I say that he pulled through magnificently, I mean that the surgery went well, all things considered.”

I stiffened. “All things considered?” I questioned. “What does that mean?”

“Well, we did everything possible, but he was in bad shape–”

“Stop talking like that,” I interjected.

His brow creased with confusion. “Like what?”

“Like he’s dead. He’s not. You keep speaking in the past tense,” I explained. “And I’d like you to quit. He’s still alive.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Hulings. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” He shook his head. “But you’re absolutely right. I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” I felt like such a bitch. All he’d been trying to do was explain to me what Billie had gone through and I had to get pissy about how he was telling me. I’m such a fucking idiot. “I’m sorry, please go on. I want to know exactly what’s happening.”

“Of course. As I was saying, the surgery went extremely well. But due to the extensive damage done from the impact of the vehicle and the medication we’ve put him on, I’m afraid that he’s slipped into a coma.” His voice became eerily quiet as he finished speaking.

Tré’s hand laced with mine, his thumb barely grazing my hand. My other hand was folded into Mike’s; his thumb also making comforting circles against my skin. I’m glad they’d both grabbed one of my hands. Without their support I probably would have crashed right to the floor. “A coma?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Tonight will be the most crucial night. If he makes it through the next ten or so hours then he should be just fine. And after some rehabilitation, he’ll be perfect.” He smiled at me. I assume he was trying to be reassuring, but it sure as hell wasn’t working.

“The next ten hours? So there’s a chance that he may not make it? Is that what you’re saying? That despite everything you’ve done, he could die anyway?” The room spun, my vision became black. “Oh, God.” I said.

Mike and Tré’s arms immediately wound around me as they led me to a chair. I could hear Emilie sit down next to me, her hand on my arm.

“Lisa, everything will be fine,” Mike said. “Billie Joe is a tough bastard. You know that. There’s no way that he would leave you.”

“Yeah, I mean God knows he’s had more than his share of near-death experiences. He can survive anything. Besides, he’s too damn stubborn to die. We’ll stay here, and keep an eye on him, and talk to him, and–”

“And it may all be for nothing.” I said calmly. “He could die anyway.” I closed my eyes and bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes. “Goddamn it!” I yelled, jumping up from my chair. As quickly as I could, so that no one could stop me, I walked away from my friends and the doctor and made my way down the hall to what I hoped would be a coffee machine.

I needed all the caffeine I could get; there was no way I was going to accidentally fall asleep while Billie Joe was fighting just to stay alive. After a few minutes I found the coffee machine and began to dig in my pockets for the $1.50 they were charging. I popped the last quarter into the machine and waited for the machine to dispense my much-needed jolt. Nothing happened. This just wasn’t my day, I thought.

“Fuck you, you fucking worthless piece of shit,” I muttered, kicking it. “Give me my fucking coffee, motherfucker,” I added, kicking it harder. “Great. Fucking swell. Now I’m insulting inanimate objects. This is a new low, even for me,” I whispered to the empty room. “Fuck. My. Life.” I let my head fall against the coffee machine and sighed heavily. The machine gurgled and coffee poured out of it and into my waiting cup. “Of course.” I laughed, shaking my head.

I grabbed my Styrofoam cup and slid down to the floor, leaning against the front of the machine. The coffee was absolute shit, but I drank it anyway. Once again I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wander. What would I do if Billie Joe didn’t make it? My teeth mashed together. “Shut the fuck up, Lisa. He’s going to be okay.” My throat felt thick as my eyes pooled with salt water. I bit my lip, willing the tears to go away, but they fell down my cheeks anyway.

“I am such a baby,” I groaned. “Here I am feeling sorry for myself when the man I love is in a coma. I’m such a fucking selfish moron. Congratulations, bitch, you have just graduated to being a royal asshole.”

“You really shouldn’t talk to yourself, it might make people think you’re crazy.”

“Go the hell away. I really don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t even want to see you, so just leave.”

“Lisa. I’m not going to leave. Not when you need a friend so much,” Ethan said.

My eyes opened slowly, focusing on the body that was towering over me. “You’re right, I do need a friend, and since you don’t fall into that category I think I‘ll go and find them.” I stood up. “So if you’ll excuse me…” I knew he wouldn’t just let me leave, but it was worth a shot.

His hand caught my arm as I walked past him. “Lisa, I’m sorry. Really. I don’t like the guy, but you love him and you’re hurting right now, so I’m sorry.”

I scoffed, my anger getting the best of me. “You’re damn right you should be sorry.” I said.

“What does that mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It means that all of this is your fault That’s what it means!” I yelled involuntarily.

“My fault? How in the hell could any of this be my fault?”

“If you hadn’t said those things to him, none of this would have happened! But you just couldn’t leave him alone; you had to antagonize him! Make him feel like shit for the mistakes he’d made. If you hadn’t done that he wouldn’t have left that store! He wouldn’t have been crossing the street, and he wouldn’t have gotten hit by that SUV!” I shoved my way past him, hurriedly striding back to the waiting room. I knew he was right behind me. I could hear his footsteps.

He caught my arm again just before I reached Emilie, Mike, and Tré. “How can you say that? None of this is my fault, you know that!” he yelled.

“All I know is that it’s your fault Billie Joe walked out of that store. What you said really got to him, just like you’d wanted.” I retorted, glaring. I shrugged off his hand and walked over to my friends.

“Lisa, that’s complete bullshit and you know it!

“Go to hell!”

Ethan shook his head, muttering something unintelligible. “Fine. I only came here to see if you were okay, but forget it. If you want to blame me for what happened, go ahead, but I’m not going to stay hear and listen to it.” He turned away and was just about to exit the waiting room when he stopped. His voice was soft. “I really am sorry though, and I hope he’s alright. He may be a bastard, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, and watched him leave. Part of me wanted to go after him. To tell him that I knew it wasn’t his fault, I just wanted to be able to blame someone. Anyone. But I stayed where I was, resting my head against Mike’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe he had the balls to show up here,” I heard Tré whisper to Emilie.

***

“Billie Joe, listen to me. You’re going to be okay. I’m here and I won’t leave, not for anything, I swear. I even had them move an extra bed in here so that I could stay all night, too.” I laughed weakly and stroked the back of his hand with my thumb again. “I had to argue with a lot of people to get it in here, but I did. They didn’t even want to give me pillows. Can you believe that? Who sleeps without pillows?”

He looked so small. I know everyone says that, but it’s true. When someone is lying in a bed, hooked up to multiple machines, and has tubes sticking out of their body, they look smaller. Vulnerable. I ran my hand through his thick hair a few times, then stroked the side of his face from hairline to chin.

His skin was unbelievably ashen and cool. His breathing was steady though; his chest rising and falling deeply each time he inhaled and exhaled. He’d been in the coma for close to four hours now. They’d finally let me see him a couple hours after he‘d gotten out of surgery, but they hadn‘t let me stay in the room until close to another hour had gone by. They’d claimed that they had still needed to finish prepping his room and then get him settled in before any visitors were allowed inside the room. More hospital policies.

My bleary eyes glanced at the small digital clock sitting on Billie Joe’s bedside table. The small display read 2:21 AM. I was incredibly tired, but I didn’t want to fall asleep. The doctors had told me that talking to Billie would be a good way to help him through the next few hours. I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I didn’t care.

Everyone else had gone home almost two hours ago because the nurses wouldn’t let more than one person stay overnight. All of them had promised to be back the minute visiting hours began the next morning. Then they’d each given me a long, soothing hug, told me to get some sleep, and departed.

The room was unbearably quiet. The only sound being mine and Billie’s breathing. And the quiet, steady beeping of the heart monitor. Carefully, so as not to disturb him in anyway, I sat forward in my chair and placed a soft kiss on Billie Joe’s cheek, then laid my head beside his on the pillow and closed my eyes, still whispering to him, although none of it made sense anymore.

***

“Lisa,” someone whispered, shattering the quiet around me. I shifted uncomfortably and pain shot through my neck. My eyes lazily fluttered open. The room around me was incredibly bright. A brilliant white. It took me a moment to remember where I was, but as soon as I did my stomach twisted into a knot. I lifted my head slowly, ignoring the aches, and looked at Billie Joe. He still looked terrible.

“Lisa,” I heard again from behind me.

“Hmm,” I answered, not really paying attention to anyone or anything but the man lying in front of me.

“The doctor wants to talk to you again. He’s out in the hallway,” Mike said, touching my arm.

I finally managed to tear my gaze away from Billie; turning it on Mike. My heart was hammering in my chest. “More bad news?” I asked quietly, bracing myself.

“He didn’t tell me either way, he wanted to talk to you first.”

I sighed. That was helpful. After placing another kiss on Billie Joe’s forehead, I exited the small room and walked up to Dr. Wells. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, thank you. We, as you know, have been keeping a close eye on Mr. Armstrong’s condition, and unfortunately, we’ve seen absolutely no change.”

The way he said that made me feel unbelievably young. “So?” I shot back. “Just because there’s been no change yet doesn’t mean that there won’t be any change at all. We’ll just have to wait longer, that’s all.”

“It’s been sixteen hours since he slipped into the coma, Miss Hulings, and we’re just not sure if he’s going to overcome all of the stress that has been placed on his body and mind.”

I opened my mouth to object, but he held up his hand. “However, this isn’t to say that he won’t wake up. But if he does, he will probably have some minor brain damage,” he said.

It was amazing to me how his voice could hold no emotion whatsoever for his patient. I knew it was his job to be calm, but it was terrible to experience it first-hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be more optimistic?” I asked, my voice rising. “Aren’t you supposed to say that you’re going to do everything in your power, no matter how extreme to make sure that he wakes up and is able to fully recover? Isn’t that your job?” Was I becoming increasingly louder as I went on? Yes. Were people beginning to stare at me? Of course. Did I give a fuck? Not particularly. Dr. Wells seemed to though, since he held up his hand and tried to lead me away from the hallway teeming with people.

“Of course we’re going to do everything possible, I’m just telling you what’s going on. And what might happen as a result. I’m telling you the facts. I wish I could say that he was going to wake up in an hour, perfectly fine, but I can’t,” he explained, frowning. “I’m sorry.” He squeezed my upper arm and walked back into Billie Joe’s room. A few seconds later Mike and Tré were ushered out, the door closing behind them.

“What did he say?” Tré asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

“Nothing good,” I replied, casting one last glance toward Billie Joe’s room before turning and walking down the hallway away from Tré and Mike. “Nothing good,” I muttered, biting my lip.