Page 7 of Pieces Into Place

Renee eyes my full tray and exhales noisily through pursed lips. “You need to get some food in your stomach,” she repeats for the third time. “I took out the nasogastric tube because you said you were willing to try to eat.”

“Then give me real food,” I reply.

“That is real food,” she retorts.

“Let’s just be honest with one another, Renee. Jello is hardly real food.”

She sighs and shakes her head. It’s the same song and dance we’ve been doing all afternoon. “You’ve been in a coma. You’ve been taking pain medication for days. You can’t eat anything except this until we know your digestive system is up and running.”

“As soon as I fart, you’ll be the first to know, Renee,” I joke, attempting to squash the beef between us. And it apparently does the job.

“I’ll be waiting on pins and needles,” she smiles, glancing at the machines behind me. “How are you feeling overall?” she asks.

“Stronger. Sharper,” I reply.

She nods and punches something into a machine behind me, then turns to leave.

On her way out, she glances back at me, and I scrunch my face tight to indicate I’m trying to comply with her request. She’s chuckling as she passes my parents on her way out. I exhale and relax as soon as I see them.

It’s a strange phenomenon, but children always seem to find comfort in the presence of their parents. I’m a 30-year-old man who has seen and done things that would mentally break most people, but as soon as I see my tiny blonde mother, I’m just her son, and she’s here to make things better.

Millie Hudson strides in before my father, throws her stuff on the chair next to the bed, and leans down to kiss my forehead before she even says a word. She pulls back, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, and says, “Kane Theodore Brissett Hudson, you are lucky you’re not dead. Because if you were, I’d kill you.” It’s precisely the nonsensical thing I’d expect her to say in this situation.

Behind her, my dad chuckles and leans down to hug me. “How are you feeling, Son?” he asks, the concern etched across his face.

“Better,” I reply. Although my memory is starting to become more lucid on the days prior to the accident, I still can’t get any clarity on the day it actually happened. “I don’t remember much.”

My father nods while my mother places her hand on her chest, trying to hold her emotions at bay. She knows I’m a soldier. I was recruited right out of high school. She also understands it’s dangerous, and I’m sure I’d be doing anything else for a living if she had her way. But she’s married to a detective and used to worrying about the men in her life.

“I’m still waiting to hear what’s been going on with my unit,” I tell him honestly.

“I’m sure they will contact you once they receive word that you’re awake,” he says. “I’m grateful you were stable enough to fly home.”

“Me, too,” I tell him. I realize it’s strange that I haven’t seen Kathrin since the doctor ushered her out of here a few hours ago. My still-foggy brain has yet to catch up with my current timeline. Maybe she’s out getting me a contraband cheeseburger. “Have you seen Kathrin?” I ask my parents.

There’s a moment of silence as my parents offer each other a glance. My father’s face remains passive, but my mother has never owned a good poker face. She wears her emotions right there on her sleeve for all to see, and what she’s feeling right now is anger.

“What?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know, exactly,” Dad says. “We saw her earlier, and when we tried to speak with her, she made an excuse and ran out of here.”

I’ve been with Kathrin for almost three years, and even though our relationship hasn’t been easy—long absences due to my work often keeping us apart—our love has remained strong.

Kathrin lives in the small house I bought five years ago and cares for everything, including my dog. Even though we don’t see each other as often as we’d like, she respects my love for my work, and I more than make up for time away when I see her.

“That’s weird. She must’ve had an emergency,” I tell my parents, to which my mother’s grimace becomes even tighter and hard-set. She and Kathrin have always gotten along, so her attitude and silence are doing little to put my anxiety at ease.

“Well, she’s been acting odd lately,” my mom offers. “She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“There’s nothing to make of it, Millie,” my dad tells her. “She will talk to Kane when she comes back. I’m sure everything is fine.”

My mom nods in agreement and gives my dad a soft smile.

I’ve always been amazed by the way my dad speaks to my mom. Even when they argue, his voice is low and soothing, like a lullaby. I can tell he really understands her. They have a silent language between them that communicates more than words ever could. His gaze holds loving promises that he won’t let her down, no matter what happens. Watching them fills me with hope for my own relationship, one where Kathrin and I can trust each other enough to be vulnerable and find unconditional and long lasting love.

My parents stay for the rest of the day, filling me in on everything back in California, especially with my brother and sister. The twins are good with their respective families. Even though they are a couple of years younger than me, they both seem to be surpassing me in their personal lives, at least.

My brother, Jack, is working for our cousin, Emmett. He’s a contractor and seems to be doing well for himself. He’s been married for almost two years now. I’m betting I’ll be an uncle sooner rather than later.