Page 42 of Zero Confusion

Miles barreled on. “My mom introduced me to Shanna earlier, if she’s around. She can vouch for us.”

It was a gamble. He’d never been in this situation before, didn’t know what the protocol was. Would the man ask to see their ID? Would Miles get kicked out for lying?

He held his breath, the same carefree smile still plastered on his face.

The man sighed. “Shanna’s on break.” His clipboard joined a tall stack of others. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Let me go grab him.” Miles hurried over to Ray and pulled him up by the elbow. “You’re Micah,” he whispered.

After a moment, Ray’s vacant eyes lit up with understanding. They followed the nurse through the large doors, like gates to another world, and down a hallway lined with open rooms. Miles tried not to peek inside, but the motionless bodies tethered to humming machines slipped into his vision, making every step toward Max’s room feel heavier.

Their guide pointed to a door and retreated, leaving Miles and Ray alone. Ray hesitated for a moment, then strode in with determination, while Miles trailed behind.

Max looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. Unlike the people in adjoining rooms, he wasn’t hooked up to a ventilator, though there were a lot of wires coming off him, leading to multiple machines. A thick cast wrapped around his lower leg, and the sides of his head were shaved in uneven patches that he would complain about endlessly.

Once he was well enough to complain.

Tears welled in Miles’s eyes, burning and blurring his vision until Max’s face disappeared behind a foggy veil. He blinked to clear them, but more followed, wave after wave. He’d spent all morning worrying about Max, about the distance that separated him from his family, about the terrifying implications of the phrase brain injury. Now, all those small anxieties coalesced into one overwhelming swirl of dread in the pit of his stomach. Everyone said Max would be fine, that he was slowly waking up. So why wasn’t he moving?

Ray cautiously approached the bed and, with a hitch in his breath that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, sat in one of the small plastic chairs left behind by Miles’s parents.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Miles leaned against the wall, too restless to sit. Not sure what to say, he alternated between examining Max’s still body for the slightest hint of movement and studying the machines, reaching deep inside his shallow well of medical knowledge to interpret the numbers on the screens.

Suddenly, Max’s eyelids fluttered open, his unfocused gaze sliding around for a few seconds. “What…” he slurred.

Lurching toward the bed, Miles grabbed his wrist, a small bubble of excitement rushing to the surface. “Max? How do you feel?”

As if Max hadn’t heard a word, his eyes drifted shut.

“That’s a good sign, right?” Miles asked hopefully.

“I think so.” Ray nodded absent-mindedly, his gaze never leaving Max’s face.

The same scenario repeated twice more, with the same result. Max didn’t stay conscious for long, and he didn’t respond to anything Miles said.

“Why can’t he hear me?” Miles asked in frustration. Ray wasn’t much better than Max at the moment, not saying a word, not blinking. He clutched the sheets right next to Max’s arm—close enough to touch, yet not making contact. Miles didn’t get it. If his best friend were lying there, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off. He would talk to him, probably yell at him to wake the fuck up.

Maybe Ray felt weird about touching Max in front of Miles? It wouldn’t be surprising, considering most male friendships Miles had witnessed.

“Hold his hand,” Miles instructed firmly. “And talk to him. Maybe he’ll respond better to you.”

That got Ray’s attention. His eyebrows shot up, and he hesitated as if waiting for Miles to change his mind. Then, slowly, he eased his fingers toward Max’s still hand.

“Max,” he rasped, voice rough with emotion. “You need to wake up. Everyone’s worried about you.”

He flicked a cautious look at Miles, and Miles gestured for him to keep going.

“You’ve caused quite a stir,” Ray added after a beat. “Don’t reckon you’ll be trusted with a ladder again for a good long while.”

Miles chuckled quietly. If he knew his brother, Max would be on a ladder as soon as his leg healed up. Possibly even before.

Minutes passed, but nothing changed. Miles had almost told Ray to give up, but his raspy murmurs were soothing, melodic, far better than charged silence.

“Ray.” The choked whisper scraped through the air, startling Miles. His focus whipped to his brother, whose eyes were open and fixed on Ray. “What…what’s—” Max tried to push himself up, a sharp breath breaking from him. Ray quickly steadied him with both hands.

“Easy,” he whispered in a far gentler tone than Miles thought him capable of. “Don’t move. You have some broken bones.”

Max let out a fractured sound, his head tipping weakly against the pillow. He didn’t seem to register Miles’s presence at all. Right as Miles opened his mouth to get his attention, Max tried lifting his trembling hand toward Ray’s cheek and sighed, “Baby.”