Rhythm in Blue Page 10

  ~

  The sound of Keith’s bass drum echoed in Rick’s head, Devon couldn’t seem to find the right note on the synthesizer. They weren’t playing in the same time, and Rick’s irritation grew. Devon attacked the instrument with both hands, but all that came out was beep, beep, beep. Meanwhile, Keith’s drum beat didn’t come close to matching Devon’s beeping. Rick growled in frustration, and Devon turned to Keith, saying, “I think he’s trying to talk.” This only made Rick angrier, and he pulled his arm back to take a swing at Devon, but the movement sent waves of pain through his body and brought an involuntary scream to his throat, though the sound didn’t match the effort.

  “Did you see that? He moved his hand!” He could hear Devon, but he couldn’t see him anymore.

  “Are you sure? I didn’t see it.” The voice belonged to Erin.

  “Yeah, his hand just jerked a little bit.”

  “Should we call the doctor?” Erin’s voice asked.

  Rick tried to call to her, but his throat hurt when he tried, and a muffled moan was the best he could offer.

  “Get the doctor! I think he’s waking up!” Rick couldn’t see anything anymore. The noises and voices surrounding him floated in the darkness, and he struggled to anchor them to something. He wanted to open his eyes, but couldn’t make them do anything. Then, he felt someone holding his hand, gently caressing it, and he heard Erin, “Please Ricky, wake up.” He could hear the tears in her voice, so he worked a little harder to open his eyes. He needed to show her he was okay, because he could tell she was worried. Gradually, pieces of light began to pierce his brain, and he squeezed his lids shut to block out the pain accompanying the light. He felt a hand on his face, brushing his hair aside. His eyes opened a crack, and he could see a silhouette against the light.

  “Ricky?” Erin asked excitedly. He groaned in response and saw her form replaced by a much larger shape.

  “Let’s have a look, shall we?” said an unfamiliar voice. His eye opened, seemingly on its own, and the brightest of lights shone into it, then, the other eye. “Mr. Rowland, can you hear me?” the strange voice asked. Rick heard himself moan in reply, his surroundings coming into focus. He tried to move his head to search for Erin, but a searing pain accompanied the movement, so he stopped.

  “Okay, try not to move or to talk anymore. I’m Dr. Howard, and you’ve been involved in an accident, Mr. Rowland. You have some severe injuries, so you need to keep very still for now.” The voice came from a man in a white coat. “You have a tube in your throat to help you breathe, so you can’t talk. We will remove the tube in a few minutes, but talking will still be difficult.” Terrified, Rick didn’t remember an accident, but he could tell by the way Erin looked and the way he felt that things were bad.

  The doctor turned and left the room, and Erin returned to her post, again stroking his face and smiling through her tears. On his other side stood Devon, a fatigued look of concern on his face.

  “Ricky, we’ve been so worried about you,” Erin cried. “I thought I’d lost you!”

  Devon must have seen the question in Rick’s eyes, so he explained, “You went off the road on your way home, after we got off the bus.” Rick tried to remember, but his mind was blank. “The police couldn’t find a cause for the accident – they think you probably fell asleep.”

  The doctor returned with several other people dressed in white. “Okay Mr. Rowland, we are going to take out the tube, but you’re going to have to help. When I tell you to, you’ll need to cough, it will help us remove the tube and be less painful for you.” Rick tried to nod that he understood. He coughed when they told him to, and the tube came out. “Do you want to try and talk for me?” asked the doctor.

  “Okay,” Rick said, in an almost inaudible voice.

  One of the people in white left the room with the tubes and equipment, and another wrote on a chart taken from the end of his bed. “You are a very lucky man, Mr. Rowland,” Dr. Howard said as he checked the tubes attached to Rick’s body.

  “How long?” Rick croaked.

  “How long have you been here? You were brought in about a week ago. Your body has kindly been trying to recover without you, to save you from unnecessary suffering.”

  Devon pushed a chair to the doctor, who pulled it closer to the bed and sat down. “Ricky, you broke your back in a car accident – three vertebrae. I don’t want you to panic, it sounds much worse than it is. The good news is there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage to your spinal cord.”

  Rick could hear the doctor, but he could only focus on the man’s large teeth as he spoke. The information he imparted was lost on Rick, too much for him to comprehend.

  The doctor continued, undeterred by the look of confusion on Rick’s face. “I’ve seen people with worse recover completely, but I’ve also seen people with less not recover well at all. You’re young and strong, so we are very optimistic. Now, that’s not the only thing you broke, but it is the most concerning for right now. While I can’t say how well you will recover, I can say that you’ve got a long road ahead of you.” The doctor stood and continued, “You rest now. I’ll come back a little later, and we will talk some more about your recovery.” He turned to Erin, “Don’t let him talk much, he needs to rest.”

  Erin nodded as the doctor walked to the door, but just before he left, he turned and said, “Just call the nurses if you need anything.”

  Erin returned to his side and took his hand again, and Devon sat in the chair vacated by Dr. Howard. Rick could only speak with great effort, so he listened as they filled him in on the events of the past week. He learned a passerby saw his tire tracks in the snow going off the road. The police figured he remained trapped in his car for several hours before his rescuer summoned help. He listened for a while, but soon, his eyes began to close on their own accord, and he didn’t hear any more of the story.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Rick next awoke, Erin still sat by his bed, sleeping with her arm stretched toward him in the dimly lit room. Very thirsty, and his head throbbing in pain, he carefully reached out and pushed the red button to summon a nurse. Thirty seconds later, a nurse came bustling through the door of his room. Seeing Erin sleeping, the nurse quieted her motions and slowed her pace. In a hushed voice, she asked Rick how he was doing.

  “I’m really thirsty, and can I have something for pain?” he asked, his voice still hoarse.

  “We have you on a morphine drip, but I’ll see if we can increase the dosage. Will ice chips be okay for now? Doctor wants you to start off easy on the drinking.”

  Rick nodded in reply, as Erin began to stir in her chair. The nurse hustled out of the room, and he closed his eyes again. Why did his head hurt so bad if it was his back that was broken? But when he began to focus in on all the places he ached, he realized the pounding in his head was just the most annoying, and therefore, the most noticeable. His back did hurt – his right arm, leg, and shoulder hurt almost as bad, but his head hurt the most.

  The nurse returned and set a cup of ice chips on the table beside his bed. She adjusted his IV settings, and said the pain should be less noticeable shortly. Erin sat up in her chair and smiled, and though he tried to smile back, he knew it was more of a grimace. The nurse handed the cup of ice chips to Erin. “Did I wake you, hun? Do you want to help him with these?” The nurse wrote something on Rick’s chart while Erin pulled her chair closer to the bed. When the nurse left the room, Erin began spooning the ice chips to Rick.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “I’ve been better, I’m not gonna lie.”

  “You sound a little better than you did earlier.”

  “It hurts...”

  “I know it does Ricky. I wish I could make it go away for you.”

  She forced a fragile smile, and Rick could see she was on the verge of tears again, so he changed the subject. “So, they left you in charge of me, huh?”

  “Devon left at the end of visiting hours. While you were sleeping, K
eith and Randy were here. They stayed for a while but left with Devon. They are so worried about you – they’ve been here all week. I told them to go get some sleep and come back in the morning.”

  “What about you? Why didn’t you leave to sleep? You look exhausted.”

  “I wanted to be here when you woke up. I’m okay, I’ve been sleeping here.” Rick could tell she needed more than a few hours of chair sleep. “Kostas said to tell you he wishes he could be here for you. He sent you those flowers over there,” she pointed to a table by the window, but there were at least ten vases of flowers. “The pink and purple bouquet,” she said. The pain was lessening now, so Rick looked around the room. He hadn’t noticed before, but the place was full of flowers, stuffed animals, balloons, and cards.

  “Holy shit! Who sent all these?”

  “Friends – friends from all over. You should see all the stuff at your house! You’ve had fans sending all kinds of gifts too. We put some in your house, some at Devon’s. Once the story came out in the papers that you weren’t dead, gifts and cards have been pouring in.”

  “Weren’t dead?”

  “Well, at first they reported you were killed in the accident...”

  “But you knew I wasn’t, right?”

  “Not at first,” the tears returned to her eyes, and this time, she couldn’t hold them back. “I heard it on the news before Devon got ahold of me,” she sobbed, laying her head on his bed.

  The morphine was kicking in, and although he didn’t feel as much pain, Erin was making him very emotional, and soon he felt tears of his own pouring down his face. “I’m so sorry Erin,” he said, smoothing her hair.

  Looking up, she attempted a smile, but when she saw he was crying, she started to laugh. “You’re crying! I’ve never seen you cry before, not since you were a kid, anyway.”

  Rick felt his face flush, but his tears still fell. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop. This is humiliating,” he muttered.

  “Don’t worry Ricky, I’m sure it’s just the medicine, it won’t last forever.”

  “I hope not. I’m gonna sleep some more, Erin. I’m really tired.”

  ~

  It was mid-morning, and Erin sat on Rick’s bed reading his cards, the stack nearly a foot high. Everyone he knew, it seemed, sent a card wishing him a speedy recovery. There was even a card from Larry and Judy, but nothing about Shelby. He learned from Erin that they were back from Greece, living in the States.

  One card Erin opened, looked at, and quickly shuffled to the back of the pile. Some color drained from her face. Rick knew the card was from their father, and he hoped Erin would throw it away when they were finished.

  “Can we read the rest later?”

  “Sure, are you getting tired?”

  “Little bit...” His arm was beginning to throb again. Through the course of the morning, Rick learned he broke not only his back, but also his right arm, his right leg, his collarbone, and he had a severe concussion. He could only stay awake for a short period before becoming drowsy.

  “Why don’t you go to my place for a while? Take a nap, get in a shower, rest.”

  “I might a little later. The guys will be here after a while. Maybe when they come I’ll take off for a bit.”

  “You should,” he said, drifting off again.

  ~

  That afternoon, as promised, the guys all came to see him and Erin left not long after. Very talkative and animated, the three were obviously relieved at Rick’s improved condition, and finally seeing him awake. He felt sick at the worry he’d given them. They all sported dark circles under their eyes and looked a little gaunt, but Devon looked the worst. Through all their joking around, he never managed a full smile, and the smile he did offer seemed worn down.

  “You should see your car, man,” Keith said, shaking his head. “When you see it you’ll be as amazed as we are that we’re even talking to you!”

  “Yeah, I think you’re gonna need some new wheels. That’s if they let you drive again,” Randy said.

  Rick still didn’t remember the accident. When he tried, he could only remember the dreams he’d had on the bus and the dream where he didn’t want Erin to tell his dad he died. Goddamn news people, he thought, remembering the look that crossed Erin’s face when she opened the card from him.

  “They tell you how long you’re gonna be in here yet?” asked Keith.

  “Not really, they don’t know. I may have to have surgery on my back. They want to wait and see how well I can move. If I have to have surgery, it may be longer before I can go home.”

  “What about your arm and stuff?” Devon pointed to his own neck.

  “I guess one piece of my collarbone broke off and is pretty close to my jugular, but they think it will move back without operating. They figure it should heal up pretty well since I’ll be immobile anyway. They’re gonna cast my arm and leg in a few days – want to wait until they do some tests on the rest of me, I guess.”

  “Jesus, Ricky, you are one sorry son of a bitch.” Devon said.

  “A lucky son of a bitch, if you ask me,” Keith corrected.

  “Yeah, that too, I guess.”

  Devon had something on his mind, something he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. When Rick tried to think what it might be, it didn’t take long to figure it out. They would have to start work on the new album soon, and he knew Devon would be anxious about it. Rick figured he’d bring it up first and save Devon from having to pluck up the courage.

  “You know, you should see if you can get Todd Henderson to work on the album with you guys. He’s the best bass player I know, and we can’t afford to wait on me.”

  “No, you’re the best bass player,” Randy told him, “We can wait till you get healed up, can’t we?” He looked to Devon and Keith for agreement, but found none.

  “If we wait, it will put us behind schedule, and we already have tour dates set up for this fall,” Devon reminded him.

  “We can change some dates, they’re far enough out. I want to wait for Ricky.”

  “You guys work with Todd, he’ll do it. We have enough ready for the album that it shouldn’t take much to finish it. You guys do that, and who knows, maybe I’ll be up and around to do some shows this winter.”

  Randy shook his head. Rick knew he didn’t like the idea of bringing in someone to take his place, but he also knew Randy would eventually see the logic. “We’ve already got most of the songs,” he assured Randy, “just get Todd to help record them. He’ll do fine. I can’t focus on getting better if I know you guys are waiting on me. I need to be able to take my time.”

  Randy walked to the window, hands on his hips, visibly upset. One of Randy’s best qualities was his loyalty. He’d always thought of them as the four musketeers, but Rick knew this was the best way to go. Turning to face the others, Randy said, “I’ll go along with it, but I want my objection noted.”

  “It’s noted,” Devon said.

  “It’s really not that big a deal Randy,” Rick said.

  “It is! You guys don’t see it, but it’s like, like the beginning of the end.”

  “It’s not the end, or even the beginning of it,” Keith assured him. “It’s just a small hurdle we have to jump. It will all work out okay, you’ll see. Our boy here will be back on top in no time.”

  Randy was quiet the rest of the visit. The tension was thick, and no one could make the atmosphere any lighter. None of them liked the idea of Rick not being involved with the album, especially since it was the first album they would record locally, in their own studio. They usually traveled to Muscle Shoals, Alabama to record. While the town was famous for the music it produced, they had never been comfortable there, and the recordings always felt rushed. They finally had the resources to record where and when they wanted, and Rick would miss it.

  The visit ended abruptly when Randy announced he had an appointment to get his tires rotated. They promised to visit again the following day, and left R
ick alone with his thoughts. It was the first time he had been alone in the hospital, and he was glad for the break from visitors. Unfortunately, he was asleep within the first five minutes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So what’s the problem with Todd?” Rick asked as Randy pushed him along the hospital hallway toward the smoking lounge.

  “He doesn’t listen to anyone, he thinks he knows what’s best, but it’s our fucking track,” Randy complained.

  “You know, I don’t listen to anyone either...”

  “Yeah, but you do it right all on your own. You know how it should sound, even when we don’t.”

  “Turn left here,” Rick said. “I really don’t understand how he could be changing it that much. It’s a pretty basic chord progression.”

  “He just is. He doesn’t work well with others.”

  “He doesn’t work well with others, or you don’t want to work with others?”

  Randy chuckled. “I don’t know, I just know it would go a lot smoother if you were there.”

  “Next one, I promise. No excuses.” Rick pointed to the elevator, “It’s on the first floor.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t just quit. You went, what, a week and a half, two weeks without a smoke? Should a just stayed off ‘em.”

  “Not much to do in here. You wouldn’t believe how excited a guy can get about a trip to the smoking lounge.”

  “I’d a quit if it was me.”

  “I doubt it...”

  The elevator door opened to a different floor plan. Rick pointed to the right and Randy pushed the chair that way. He then pointed to a door at the far end of the hallway, and stenciled on the door was SMOKER’S LOUNGE. As they entered, the oppressive stench of stale cigarette smoke hit them like a wave.