Chapter 6 - The Long Night at St. Jude's
The trauma ward of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital smelled of rubbing alcohol, floor wax, and the metallic tang of autoclaved instruments.
It was 6:40 p.m. by the time the orthopedic surgeon finally came out through the double swinging doors of the surgical suite.
Derek and I were sitting in the waiting alcove. I was still in my wrinkled dress shirt, my tie stuffed into my pocket, holding two untouched cups of lukewarm machine coffee. Derek sat beside me, his forearms resting on his knees, his knuckles slightly red but otherwise unmarked. He hadn't spoken more than ten words in three hours.
"Mr. Harris?" the surgeon asked, pulling down her paper mask.
I jumped to my feet. "How is she?"
"She’s in recovery," the doctor said, her face weary but reassuring. "The ulna had a clean transversal break, and the radius was fractured in two places. It was a classic defensive fracture—she took the brunt of the strike on the outer forearm trying to protect her skull."
The doctor paused, her jaw tightening with professional anger that she couldn't entirely hide.
"If that blow had landed on her parietal bone instead of her arm, we wouldn't be talking about an orthopedic surgery. We would be talking about an autopsy."
A cold shudder ran through my spine. I reached out, steadying myself against the wall.
"We placed a titanium compression plate and six screws along the ulna," she continued. "The radial alignment was stabilized with two pins. The soft tissue swelling is severe, and she has a grade-two concussion from an earlier strike to the head, but neurologically she is intact. She will regain full function of the arm with six to nine months of physical therapy."
"Can we see her?" Derek asked, his voice rough.
"Only for a few minutes," the doctor said. "She's heavily sedated on morphine and an anti-inflammatory drip. Room 412."
We walked down the long, dim corridor in silence.
Room 412 was quiet, save for the rhythmic, low-pitched beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the IV pump. Lena looked tiny in the oversized hospital bed, her right arm elevated on a blue foam bolster, wrapped in thick white surgical dressings from knuckles to elbow. Her face was bruised—a dark yellow-purple discoloration across her right temple and a split on her upper lip that the paramedics had cleaned.
I pulled a vinyl chair up to the bedside and took her left hand. Her skin was warm now, the shock finally receding under the influence of the hospital blankets and IV fluids.
Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy with anesthetic.
"Dad?"
"I'm here, sweetheart," I whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead, careful to avoid the bruising. "The surgery went perfectly. The doctor fixed the arm. You're going to be completely fine."
She turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting toward the foot of the bed, where Derek stood with his hands folded in front of him, silent as an oak tree.
"Uncle Derek..."
Derek stepped forward, his expression softening as he reached out with one broad, calloused hand to gently squeeze her toes through the thermal blanket.
"Hey, kiddo."
"He was so big," she whispered, a single tear leaking from the corner of her eye, tracing a path through the dried antiseptic on her cheek. "When he held that bat, he looked ten feet tall."
Derek leaned down, resting his hand beside hers on the bed rail.
"Nobody is ten feet tall when they hit women, Lena," Derek told her, his voice absolute and unyielding. "They're just small, weak men who know how to make a lot of noise. And his noise is over."
"Is he in jail?"
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"He's in the county lockup," I told her firmly. "He's been charged with felony domestic violence, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and felony intimidation of a witness. The prosecutor’s office called while you were in surgery. The judge set bail at five hundred thousand dollars with zero contact provisions. He isn't getting out."
Lena closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering sigh that seemed to release three years of hidden terror. Her grip on my fingers relaxed, and within two minutes, the medication pulled her back under into a deep, healing sleep.
