Traffic Girl - Katie Ch. 08

Author's Note: The idyllic world John and his wives had came crashing down in the blink of an eye. The road back? Will be the hardest thing they've ever done. This is the start of that journey.

* * *

I could recognize I was in a dream state. But that's all there was to it. There weren't any dreams. I felt like I was in a state of suspended animation. I couldn't sense anything or anyone around me, yet I knew I was alive. It was like being trapped inside a bubble that was made out of a one-way mirror. And I was on the wrong side of it.

And then, at some point, I could open my eyes. It was like magic. I heard the beeping of monitors again. Bits and pieces of memories came back to me in a rush, but my return to engaging with my senses was interrupted by commotion.

"Oh my god! John!" a voice came.

"Baby, you're awake!" came another.

I felt warm skin on mine. I heard sobbing and crying. My sight needed to adjust to the light, which was harsh and stinging. My head throbbed, although not as badly as ... what seemed like every other part of my body.

"What happened?" I said, though the words came out only as if they were mouthed. There was hardly any sound.

"Wait! He's trying to say something!" a voice said forcefully. It was unmistakably Rita.

Quiet washed over the room.

"What happened?" I offered again with what, to me, was Herculean force. It came out as the barest whisper.

"Oh, John!" Rita said.

I blinked several more times, which brought a little bit of focus to my vision finally. There was Rita next to me, at the head of the bed to my right. I knew it was her from her voice, but her face was covered with a surgical mask and cap. Warmth radiated from her. Kat was hanging off her arm, also in mask and cap, with relief in her eyes. On the other side, Jess and Katie, masked and capped, clutched my arm, careful not to press against the IV line that was jammed into it.

Everyone spoke at once again, and I shook my head. I couldn't form the words I wanted to say. So I just repeated, "What happened?" This time, the words came out at something like a normal whisper.

"You were in a car accident," Jess said.

"A really bad one, daddy," Katie said.

"Should we tell him?" Kat asked.

"Not yet," Rita said. "You got driven into by a huge SUV, John. You've been in a medically induced coma for two days, and they just took you out of it."

"I'll go tell the nurse to bring the doctor in now that he's awake," Jess said.

"How?" I croaked.

"There will be plenty of time to fill you in, daddy," Kat said, brushing her mask-covered mouth to my hand. "Right now? You just need to rest."

"There is going to be a lot of recovery," Katie said, and I sensed something new in her voice. Her training and instincts as a nurse were coming out. "But you are so tough and so strong, you are going to make it look easy. You are past the hardest part, and you're still here with us."

"And we are here with you, baby," Jess said. "We're not going to leave you for a minute. Well, except me right now because I'm going to talk to the nurse."

She laughed with an awkward excitement. My body felt like hell, but as I slowly scanned between the two sides of the bed, seeing the relieved smiles of my wives made me feel better than anything else I could possibly imagine. Whatever had transpired, I knew I could take on the world with them by my side.

I tried to sit up, and a bolt of pain hammered through my left side, and I gave a sharp cry.

"No, daddy," Kat said. "You've got to just lie down."

I realized I couldn't move my left leg.

"It's actually a miracle you aren't dead," Katie said. "The motherfucking crazy bitch who hit you should have killed you. She was trying to. But the Bentley. Oh my god, we are so lucky it was built so solidly."

"What happened?" I offered once more.

Rita was stroking my temple. Her palm was warm, but the tips of her fingers were ice cold. I turned my head to her and gave a weak smile. She looked ravaged. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Her nose was red. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her touch had never felt better. Kat didn't appear any better off. She was just as fatigued. But Katie may have been the most run down of them all. Her cheeks looked a bit gaunt, but there was no hiding the smile she gave me. It betrayed the most ecstatic relief. And it made me wonder again -- what the fuck had happened?

I didn't get any further information for a while because, only a few minutes after Jess had gone to find the nurse, a gaggle of people in scrubs filed into the room. Reflexively, the girls stepped back from my bed.

"Mr. Cameron, welcome back to the world," a soothing, radio-quality voice said to me. "I'm Doctor Rosenberg. I didn't know if I'd ever get a chance to talk to you. I'm glad I will. I'm your orthopedic surgeon. I must say, it took some time to get you back together."

"Thanks," I offered in the same whisper as before. Talking felt like a Sisyphisian task.

"We're going to run through a few things with you, so just do your best," Dr. Rosenberg said. "You're a very lucky man. And you've obviously got a very loving family. These ladies haven't left your side at all in the past three days."

"What happened?" I repeated.

Another man in scrubs stepped forward, at the same time that two females fanned out and started fiddling with machines and prodding me to test my reflexes.

"Doctor Rosen, Mr. Cameron," he said. "I'm your neurologist. You had a little bit of swelling in your brain from the concussion you suffered, so we put you in a medically induced coma the past two days. We're going to see how you responded to that, and then, hopefully, we'll be able to chart out a map for your broader recovery."

"How are his reflexes, nurse?" Katie asked from the side.

"They're looking good," a middle aged, plump woman said to her. "Actually, very good."

"That's a relief," Katie said.

My head started spinning. It never stopped throbbing. I closed my eyes, just for a moment, to try to make it stop. When I opened them again, the room was dark, bathed only in a humming fluorescent light coming from a single long bulb that was installed above a white board at the far end of the room.

"Hey, daddy," Kat's voice came softly. I could feel her warm breath on my cheek.

"Kitty Kat," I said, my throat feeling raw.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear you say that, even just one more time," she said. Her voice cracked.

I smiled, and even that hurt. My mind was becoming less cloudy, I presumed from getting further away from being out of the coma, and I could only think of one thing. So I said it one more time.

"What happened?" I croaked.

Kat turned and gave a quizzical glance to her side. I tried to track her look, and I saw Rita and Jess sitting in chairs against the far wall. They stood up and approached the bed.

"Where's Katie?" I followed up.

Another round of silent glances passed among three of my wives. I took my mild annoyance at their silent communication as a good sign that maybe something, however small, was returning to normal. Not that I felt like I knew what normal was now. Or could be.

Rita spoke up.

"So, John, we made a group decision," she said. "That Katie should still keep up on tour with Riley and Henry."

I nodded. It made sense.

"And Riley and Henry, oh my god, they have been unbelievable," Kat said. "They let her use one of their jets to fly to and from the concerts each night. She's never gone for very long, and she always comes straight here."

"Where are they now?" I asked.

"Atlanta," Jess said. "They wrapped up in Chicago."

"Wow," I said hoarsely.

I had been laid up for a long time already.

"She'll be back just a couple hours after the show ends tonight," Rita said. "We didn't think it was right for her to stop. She's so racked with guilt ... it doesn't matter."

"What?" I prodded quietly.

"We should tell him," Jess said.

"Okay, I'm telling him," Kat said.

Rita nodded in agreement.

"Daddy," Kat said, taking my hand in hers. "The girl who hit you? She did it on purpose. She is some crazed Henry fan, and she had some kind of mental break when that picture of you and Riley showed up online. Thank god she couldn't figure out where we lived, but she staked out Petey's office because she had read you were connected to his business somehow. And she just waited for you. So when you went to lunch that day and came back? She was following you and set it up."

"The psycho bitch had this fucked up notion she was somehow saving Riley and Henry's relationship by doing it," Jess said with enmity.

"She did it on purpose?" I said. My mouth felt dry. The throbbing in my head became more pronounced.

"She's in jail," Rita said. "Uninjured, somehow, which is too bad. The cunt. But the police got her right away. They charged her with attempted murder and some other things. She's going to go away for a long time."

Worry fought through the fog in my brain. This was all going to be very, very public. This could become even more of a threat to our lives and lifestyle than the tabloid controversy. It could all be over. How could we possibly come back from it, apart from the obvious physical impairments I was going to have to get through?

"Don't worry, my love," Rita said, as if reading my thoughts. "We are already taking some very strict precautions. We'll tell you more about that later, okay? All you need to do is rest and stay on the mend."

"How bad?" I asked.

"Katie could really tell you better," Kat said, "but you have a broken collarbone and a broken hip. Four cracked ribs -- it's a miracle they weren't broken, too. The Bentley seriously saved your life."

"I bet it's in worse shape than I am," I joked weakly.

The girls laughed over-dramatically.

"You're at Cedars Sinai," Jess said. "We're so lucky it was the closest place. The doctors are absolutely incredible. John ..."

Her voice cracked, and she choked back tears. Rita squeezed my hand and spoke up.

"They had to bring you back twice," she said, and I saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "They think it was just from the force of the impact. That can happen sometimes, I guess. But ... we almost lost you."

I stared at them. This was a lot to process. How could I possibly end up being okay?

"They're going to do some more tests now that you're awake," Kat said. "And the cardiologist is optimistic because of your age. You have a concussion. And the broken bones could have been so much worse. You had a blood transfusion. But ... daddy, you're going to be okay. They said you're going to make a full recovery. They're sure of it."

I wasn't convinced there wasn't a certain amount of wishful thinking in what she said.

"And we are never going to leave your side," Jess said. "We can do this. All together. You are going to be back to the same physical John we love in no time."

"Doesn't sound like no time," I said and tried to laugh then stopped. My entire chest cavity hurt at the attempt.

"Take it easy, daddy," Kat said.

I genuinely could feel a warmth radiating from them. But I also missed Katie. Something nagged at the back of my mind. Had I been dreaming? Katie and Henry? Rita and Ryan? A chill ran up my spine, and I shuddered. They said it had been, what, five days? There was no way that could have actually happened. A metallic taste filled my mouth.

"Water?" I said.

Jess was there with it in an instant.

"Or do you want some ice chips?" Kat offered.

"This is good," I said softly. "I'm so tired."

"Time for some rest, my love," Rita said gently. "Just close your eyes."

"Sleep helps you heal faster," Jess said.

I wanted to ask if they had been home. They should get some rest themselves. But the words dried up on my tongue. Kat took the water cup from my hand. I felt a pair of lips on my forehead, and I fell asleep.

* * *

The most disconcerting part of my recovery was that I was totally oblivious to time. I didn't like not knowing what time of day it was or what day of the week it was. My biggest daily concern -- at least, I think it was daily -- was that the girls needed to get some rest. Katie, flying back and forth every night from the Stages Tour shows, in particular was running on fumes. The brutal schedule took an obvious toll on her.

But Kat, Jess, and Rita looked haggard, too. I kept telling them they should stay with me in shifts. They should go home and sleep in a real bed. The rollaway bed and window sill cushion weren't conducive to any kind of meaningful rest. Still, I had been very lucky. Even in the ICU, they bent the rules to let the girls stay with me because there was enough room to isolate us. After a week, I was transferred into a regular room. Actually, it wasn't a regular room. It was one of the Cedars Sinai suites, with a sitting area and kitchenette, and it was a huge upgrade in terms of space and comfort.

Getting out of the ICU also afforded me more visitors, and that was extremely welcome. My days were beyond boring. They were a study in tedium because I simply couldn't leave bed. I wasn't capable of it. Part of me did love the doting attention my wives gave me, and their fidelity never wavered. They finally agreed to go home occasionally.

And, I had to admit, it was soul crushing to have the kids visit. They didn't fully grasp what had happened, and it destroyed me to see in their eyes the first moment of understanding that their dad wasn't indestructible. At the same time, their innocence and lack of understanding were a joy and relief. It lent a brush of normalcy to the most trying time in my entire life.

It also helped to have friends visit. Juliet and Melanie, along with Jason, Crystal, and Bianka were my first and most frequent visitors. Riley and Henry made a point to drop in every time they got through touring a new city, and they were absolutely grief-stricken that some demented fan of theirs had done this. Of course, we all knew it wasn't their fault, but our bond seemed to grow as a result.

My hospital room teemed with get-well wishes, flowers, candy, and stuffed animals. More visitors came and went as the days went by. And, little by little, I started to feel better. I could laugh without doubling over in pain. My head didn't throb all the time, and the sensitivity to light and its accompanying nausea disappeared almost completely. The doctors made plans to discharge me after about three weeks. That, however, would only be the beginning, one hurdle of many I would have to overcome.

Getting out of the hospital felt like a gargantuan task, and not only for me. The girls swung into action planning what adjustments might need to be made to the house to accommodate my newfound lack of mobility. The inability to get around was the most frustrating thing for me. And I would have at least three more weeks staying in the most awkward cast ever created for my broken hip. It went from my left thigh, over my hip, above my stomach and around just below the waist. It was bulky, itchy, and absolutely drove me crazy. On the positive side, it wasn't as painful anymore. It still hurt, don't get me wrong, but the biggest step forward in my treatment -- at least of the pain -- was ketamine. We had tried it recreationally a couple times, but once the doctors switched me off opioids, which I despised, to ketamine, it was like night and day.

What I liked was that it was effective at numbing the pain while also making me feel a euphoria I never felt with opioids. I felt detached, like I was floating in a cloud, watching the world go by around me. Yet I didn't feel out of control, which was nice.

Because every night? My dreams were a complete nightmare. They were out of control and brutal. Each night I dreaded going to sleep because it was a replay of the torturous visions I had when I had been brought to the hospital after the accident. This was a double-edged sword because sleep was the best way for me to recover. But it haunted me, and it persisted almost every night, which made me dread the approaching nights. I thought that having the girls there with me might help, but it only seemed to make the dreams more vivid.

The lack of sleep, in turn, started to fuck with my head. The ketamine probably didn't help with that, since it made me feel detached. As my discharge target date approached, I seemed to be losing touch with reality. I didn't know what was real and what was a dream sometimes. This came into stark reality one afternoon when Kat and Jess went to grab us some lunch, and I was left with Rita alone in my room.

"You didn't fuck Ryan, did you?" I said.

"What?" Rita said, her eyes furrowing in shock.

"Ryan," I said. My throat was still sore from my earlier intubation. "I could have sworn maybe you let him fuck you."

"Baby," Rita said, jumping to my side. She took my hand in both of hers. "There hasn't been another man. Ever. Ryan loves to flirt with me and blow some lines, but I made the rules clear. And he plays by the rules. That's why I like him. He doesn't push them."

"I could have sworn," I said. "It was so realistic. I came home from the office one day. Kat was cooking dinner, and I went to kiss you hello, and you told me, 'Sorry, baby, not until Ryan finishes,' and he was right there. Behind you. Making you cum so hard."

Rita squeezed my hand tightly.

"My love," she said, "that sounds like a dream. But let me tell you something? You may have dreamed it, but that doesn't even register on my list of fantasies. You know how much pride I take in being faithful to you. You are my man. I'm your wife. Period. I love being yours and only yours."

"God, it was so realistic," I said. "Like I was right there. I could almost feel it."

"You need to get more sleep, darling," she said. "But I swear to you. That was not real. That will never, ever be real."

I smiled and believed her. My sweet Rita. She knew how to calm me down and make me feel better, but it was all still so disconcerting. That wasn't the only incident where I couldn't separate fantasy from reality. Even though it dawned on me that it should be easy to -- I wasn't at home. I couldn't see anything going on there. I should have been able to differentiate what was a real memory. So it started to drive me crazy.

The one image I couldn't shake -- because it crept up over and over again -- was Kat with Patrick and Tommy. It came to a head a couple days before discharge. I had been on the ketamine IV drip for two weeks by that time, and the dreams had started to blur with reality even more. I guess the dream-like state of the ketamine made my concussed brain confused about what ran through my mind when I was asleep and what I actually observed from my floating cloud while I was awake. It still didn't occur to me that the most fucked up images that appeared before me couldn't be happening when, for example, Kat was standing next to the hospital bed while she stroked my hair.

Still, the confusion crept in, and in a shaky voice one afternoon I asked Kat, "Kitty Kat, why do you keep going back to Patrick and Tommy?"

"Daddy? What are you talking about?" Kat said, her voice high-pitched, concerned, and conveying pain.

"You keep taking them both," I said. "All the time. Begging for more."

"John," Kat said, her voice soothing yet serious, "I think you've been having bad dreams. Like with Rita and Ryan."

"I can see it, though," I said, rubbing my eyes. "It's so clear. Both of them. Passing a primo back and forth with them. That look on your face. The one where you've gone to a place where you only want one thing and can't say no. Cum leaking down your thighs ..."

"Daddy," Kat said, and I could feel her whole body shudder, all the way through the tips of her fingers. "We will never go down that path again. My stomach feels queasy just thinking about it. There's ... I can't ... that's just completely off the table."