Patrick Eleven: Uncertain Times

Three months had passed, I was on stage as usual, and Patrick had just performed his buried alive trick. It had been a little too long since he'd gone down though, so I was getting a little concerned. Emmanuel was behind the scenes, making sure things worked okay. All of a sudden, I heard him calling out Patrick's name in a panic. Even though it was faint, the theater director heard it too, so he closed the curtain, and did damage control with another performer, allowing me to go below stage to see what was the matter.

I opened the door to the backstage area, and was shocked to see Emmanuel crouching over Patrick, who was laying on the floor. I rushed over to them, and crouched down next to Patrick.

"I called 911, gave him CPR, so he's got a pulse, and everything, but he's not conscious."

"What the fuck happened?"

"The trapdoor opened and instead of the rail working properly, it broke. Patrick and the box fell off of it. I heard some bone breaking sounds, so I don't want to move him."

The EMTs arrived, and put an oxygen mask on him. Emmanuel and I piled into the ambulance with him, and I sent Katya a text message to let her know what was going on. When we arrived at the hospital, Patrick was rushed into the ER, and the doctors told us he had several broken ribs and a concussion, so they needed to get him into surgery to fix it and check for any other injuries. Emmanuel and I went into the waiting room and sat down. A few minutes later, I saw Katya walk in with her head in her hands. I walked up to her and helped her over to the couches. Max and Soleil came in shortly afterwards, I'm guessing because Emmanuel notified them.

"Is he okay?"

"He's in surgery now, he just went in about ten minutes ago."

Emmanuel told Patrick's parents what had happened to him, and they thanked him for handling the situation the way he did. Katya continued to cry while grabbing onto my arm. After a while, a doctor came over to us, and I pointed at Max and Soleil since they were Patrick's family. They stood up, eager to hear what the doctor had to say.

"Patrick made it out of surgery, and his vitals are good, but he hasn't regained consciousness."

"What does that mean? Is he going to wake up at all? In a few days?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you when he's going to wake up. He hit his head pretty hard when he fell, although his brain activity is good, so there is hope, but for now he's in a coma. There's no swelling or anything around his brain, but sometimes people stay unresponsive for a little while after severe trauma. Based on what we've seen so far with Patrick, we are hopeful he will wake up, but we can't be sure about a timeline."

"Oh my god, my Patrick!"

"Shh, baby, it'll be okay. He'll be all right."

Soleil fell into Max's chest when she heard the news, and Max remained strong, hugging her tightly and comforting her while rubbing her back. Katya continued to cry even harder than she was before. Max spoke up and asked if we could see him. The doctor agreed and we all went to his room, taking various spots around the bed. Seeing him laying there was so surreal, and I felt like this couldn't be happening. Even though he and I were just friends, I felt a great sadness in my heart seeing him like that. I was a tad jealous seeing his family come together like this for him. My family had strong emotions, but we seemed to be more about anger towards each other rather than love, like Patrick's family had.

"Is there anything we can do while he's unconscious?"

"They say coma patients can hear things, they just can't respond. Read him a book, or just sit and talk to him, hold his hand, that can help."

Katya was sobbing uncontrollably, and she seemed sadder than Patrick's parents. I was getting annoyed that she seemed to be making a scene, as if she was trying to show that she cared for Patrick more than the rest of us did. All of a sudden, Katya let go of me, and made a beeline for the small bathroom in Patrick's room. I wondered what was wrong with her, thinking maybe she was so sad that she made herself sick.

When she came out, she said she had thrown up and her stomach wasn't feeling well, so the doctor took her to run some tests. Everyone sat in silence for a long time until Katya came back.

"Are you okay, Katya?"

Katya shook her head and started crying again. I hugged her and let her cry on me. After a few minutes, she went over to Patrick and grabbed his hand.

"Patrick, you have to wake up, because you're going to be a father."

---

That night at the hospital when I found out I was pregnant, I was already five weeks along. I was having mixed feelings about it because I loved Patrick, but we had never said that to each other, and I was scared. I was happy as well because this little baby was a part of Patrick. Ephemera had told me that night that she thought I was trying to show off how sad I was for Patrick, but I realized it was the hormones. I'd been crying a lot more often lately, and it would be triggered by the stupidest things, like dropping something I was holding.

We all had hope that Patrick would wake up soon, and had been visiting him consistently since that night. Sometimes his parents would sleep in his room, sometimes together, and other times they'd take turns so one of them could look after me. I didn't want to be needy, but Max and Soleil insisted that I let them help me because they didn't want me to go through my pregnancy alone. Ephemera still lived with me, and she helped out too, listening to my rants and comforting me when I cried. I felt like Patrick's tragedy had helped our relationship a lot because Ephemera had been really nice to me ever since it happened. I knew she was hurting too, so part of it was because she was also sad for Patrick, but I liked to think that she was letting some of her walls down when it came to me. As much as I hated that Patrick was in this situation, I was glad that it was drawing Ephemera and I closer.

Today Max had driven me to the hospital to visit, and Soleil was already there, having slept overnight in Patrick's room. Two months had passed, and my stomach was starting to bulge out a little bit. By this time, I was three months into carrying the baby, and things were only getting more difficult. None of my clothes fit, so Soleil had taken me to get some new maternity clothes. I felt uncomfortable all the time, and dreaded to think about the time when I got even fatter. I cried a lot any time I went home from seeing Patrick because I just wanted him to be there with me, holding me, to tell me everything was going to be all right. Max and Soleil had been helping me out a lot, which I was grateful for, but it wasn't the same as having Patrick there.

I had brought a book with me to read to Patrick, while Max stayed on the couch, and Soleil went to take a shower. About an hour of me reading to him, I took a break and grabbed his hand. He looked so peaceful and serene laying there, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Dr. King had said his brain activity was normal, so there wasn't any chance of him being brain dead. Was he in complete darkness, or was he in a happy place while he healed? Soon Soleil came over, so I gave her my chair, and she held Patrick's hand.

"Patrick, honey, it's Mom. Your dad and I are here for you. We miss you, baby. Katya's here too, she's been reading to you a lot. We've been helping her out while you're away, keeping her safe till you come back."

Soleil squeezed Patrick's hand, and silent tears ran down her cheeks as she talked to him. Max instinctively went over to her, almost as if he could sense that she had started crying. My heart hurt a lot, hoping that I could have that kind of love with Patrick someday. Suddenly, Soleil gasped, and at first I thought it was because Max had surprised her, but she was looking at Patrick intently. She squeezed his hand, and gasped again.

"Max, I think he squeezed my hand! Go get Dr. King!"

Max and Dr. King came running into the room, and Dr. King shined a light into his eyes. Her face lit up with hope as she made Patrick follow her finger with his eyes.

"His eyes are responding normally. Patrick? Patrick, can you hear me? Lift your left index finger if you can."

I watched Patrick's index finger on his left hand raise up slowly, for a second, and then go back down.

"This is good news. It might take a little bit before he fully opens his eyes and begins to talk again, but he's on his way back."