Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to wait,” Janus growled out. “I want to see my brother.”
“Just chill a sec,” I said to him. If he threw a shit-fit here, we wouldn’t get any information.
And a couple of minutes later—right before Janus’s top was about to blow—a skinny middle-aged doctor came out of a door and walked up to us.
“You are the brother?” the man asked in heavily accented English.
Janus nodded. “How is he? How did the surgery go? What was the surgery even for?”
“Give him space to take a breath.” I knocked Janus in the side.
He looked at me and I could see how frustrated he was. But the doctor soon began to speak. “His leg is broken in two places.” He rapidly reeled off a bunch of jargon I couldn’t follow, likely even if half of the terms weren’t Italian—but I got the jist that Janus’s ankle was seriously broken.
“We operated and put in a rod and three screws,” he summarized helpfully at the end.
“Holy shit,” Milo swore.
“Is he gonna be okay?” I asked.
The doctor smiled, but it was gentle. “He is put back together again, but he is in pain.”
“Will he be able to walk?” Janus asked.
The smile left the doctor’s face and he held up his hand in a so-so gesture. “With time. Fisioterapia.”
“Physical therapy?” Janus repeated, features going tense. “How much? How long?”
The doctor again didn’t seem to want to make promises. “Eight weeks. A few months.”
“Months?” Janus said, eyes popping wide. “We don’t have months! He’s supposed to start shooting a movie tomorrow.”
“Hey, we just found out he’s okay,” Milo said, reaching out a hand to Janus’s shoulder. “Let’s focus on that.”
“Can we see him?” Janus shrugged Milo off.
The doctor shook his head. “He woke up once after surgery but then fell asleep again. And he needs his rest. But when he wakes, a nurse come for you.”
“Can’t we just sit with him?” I asked, taking a tiny step towards the doctor. “Please? Then he’d at least be able to wake up to friendly faces.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes at me. Not unkindly, just with professional curiosity. “You are—?”
“Family,” Janus said. “And this is my other brother.” He slapped Milo on the back and then stared down the doctor. “Your hospital administrator talked do you, right? Tommaso? Because he said he would take care of whatever we needed.” Janus leaned in, eyebrow lifting significantly. “Considering how we might be feeling generous to the hospital in response? With our charity donations?”
The doctor listened to all this warily, then looked towards the small reception area. He spoke in rapid Italian to the receptionist, then nodded back at us. “Come. I will show you his room.”
And so began our hours-long vigil at Leander’s bedside, long into the night. His face was angelic in spite of a nasty bruise on the right side of his jaw. He’d obviously fallen hard on that side; it was his right leg he’d broken too. It was wrapped in a plaster cast up to his thigh and lifted high in traction.
An IV line pierced his arm and he was so pale…so ghastly pale compared to his usual vibrant glow. For once, he and Janus didn’t look like twins. Or if they did, Leander seemed a ghostly echo of his hale and healthy brother. Janus was standing beside Leander’s bed but wasn’t touching him.
I sat on a chair on the opposite side of Leander, clutching his cold hand. I didn’t understand how Janus could simply stand there like he was keeping guard, cold and aloof. I wanted to yell at him to take Leander’s other hand.
Milo had spent the last forty-five minutes talking Leander’s ear off—no matter that he was unconscious—before finally de-camping to go get some coffee for all of us.
But Janus hadn’t said a single word to his brother.
My irritation finally spilled over. “Say something,” I prompted. “It will do him good to hear your voice.”
But Janus just scoffed mirthlessly. “It’s his own voice. Why the fuck would he want to hear his own voice? You talk.”
I shook my head at him in frustration but started talking anyway. I wanted Leander to have a voice to walk towards through the darkness.
Maybe we ought to let him sleep, but I figured we all just needed to see that he was okay firsthand. Then I could let myself try to catch a nap on the little cot they’d arranged for us to take turns sleeping in. Because none of us were leaving Leander alone until we had a better handle on the situation. Janus’s promised donation had at least gotten us an exemption from visiting hours, thank God. I didn’t like how wealth opened doors, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t grateful in this situation.
“Leander?” I said, my voice coming out rough from worry and the quiet crying I’d been doing all afternoon and evening. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back this morning. And maybe it’s shit to say it here while you aren’t even conscious…”