Revelation

When we were finally called into the surgical counseling room at the completion of my father's surgery we could hardly hold our heads up or concentrate on the words the surgeon was saying.
It was nearly noon, yet we felt like we had been in that room for days, weeks.
The surgeon motioned myself, my grandmother and my mother into the small room. This room seemed a smaller version of the emergency room in which we had been waiting just the night before. A small round table sat to the immediate right of the door, and two chairs were pulled up under the table. A small, two person sofa sat to the back wall and a tall floor lamp illuminated the room.
The surgeon asked us to take a seat. My grandmother and I sat, my mother stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders.

"I was able to remove the three clots that were present in Linwood's brain. There were two in his right temporal lobe and one in his frontal lobe," the surgeon began, as he rubbed his hands together and rolled his fingers over the tops of his hands, as if they had been chilled.
"The surgery itself was a success but because of the extensiveness of the injury, and the swelling that has occurred in his brain, I have had to remove a large portion of his skull to allow for swelling in the brain, " he paused looking at us. Testing us, to see if he could continue.
"Without removing this portion, the brain would swell against the bone and cause further brain damage..." he stated.

My mind flashed to the right side of my father's head. The side I had seen caved in the night before.
I shuddered.

"After the swelling has gone down, we can replace this portion of the skull and it will heal, with minimal scaring or deformity," the doctor stated placing his hands behind his back and looking from my grandmother to me and back again, "Additionally, we had to wire Linwood's jaw shut as the X-Rays showed his jaw is also broken in two places. The wiring should be in place for about six weeks, so we have inserted a feeding tube into his stomach and performed a tracheotomy so that he may continue to breath on the ventilator. We want to keep him as sedated as possible for the next week or so to allow his brain, and body, time to heal.," the doctor finished looking at me squarely.
I looked at my grandmother who sat staring at her hand and then up at my mother who looked ready to speak, "What will he be like when he wakes up?" I asked, half wanting, half not-wanting, to know.

"His injuries are great," the doctor said looking down, "we won't really know how he will be when he awakes...if he awakes," he continued, "unfortunately, medical science knows every detail about so many of our organs yet the brain remains somewhat of a mystery. ..I am going to be quite frank when I say he could awaken after we reduce his sedation and function somewhat, or...."the doctors voice trailed, "he may remain in a coma indefinitely."
At this last piece of news my grandmother gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth, "Oh god!" she breathed as tears formed in her eyes.
I looked down.
"I am extremely sorry about this accident," the doctor said as he moved towards the door, "my deepest sympathies go out to all of you," and with that he was gone, shutting the door softly behind him.

I sat back in my seat looking at my lap. I imagined life with my father as a vegetable. I imagined visiting him in the hospital where he lay as days, weeks, months and years passed by, unaware of what was happening around him. His beard being shaven by nurses who spoke over his body as if he wasn't there...

After a few moments my mother opened the door and I began to follow my grandmother out of the room. I shuffled towards the information desk prepared to ask when we would be allowed to see my father when I noticed a tall, handsome police officer at the desk.
"Mr. West's family..." I heard him say.
The nurse behind the desk looked startled when she saw me approach the officer, "that's them," she said motioning to myself and my mother and grandmother. I could tell she was curious as to why a police officer was looking for us, yet fearful of knowing the answer.
"Renee West?" the officer asked turning towards me.
"Um, yes?" I said glancing at my mother.
My mother's face was set. She showed many different emotions, fear, sadness, curiosity and a hint, just a small hint, of anger.
It was this hint of anger that took me back, what is going on?

"I need to speak with you about the incident involving your father," the police officer began. The nurse stepped from behind her desk and motioned us back into the small room from which we had just come.
"Um, ok..." I said looking back to be sure my mother and grandmother were following me.
When we entered the room, we returned to our respective seats and the officer pulled one of the chairs from the back of the room towards the table, "Please sit," he instructed my mother.
She sat.
The officer began, "It has come under our investigation at the Saint Clair Shores police department that your father was the victim of an assault yesterday afternoon."

An assault?
I thought he was in a car accident?
Who would assault my father?
Why?
What is going on!

"At approximately 3pm, " the officer continued looking at a leather binder filled with notes, "your father was proceeding west on Grand Avenue street towards his home at 2543 Grand. At some point your father was involved in an altercation on the road with another driver. From what we can gather your father and this other driver were yelling obscenities at each other from their vehicles, then they both decided to stop their vehicles, exit, and resume the argument face-to-face," he continued.
I looked at my mother, that emotion, anger, flashed across her face again.

"We are still unclear as to what exactly was said but we have witness testimony that at some point the other man struck your father with a fist in the face. Witnesses say your father fell backwards and struck the curb with his head," the officer paused looking up at me.

"Oh!" I exhaled feeling as though all the air had been knocked out of me, feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach. All I could imagine was my father falling back, hitting his head on the curb. I thought about the concrete he must have hit.
So cold.
So hard.
So...deadly.

"Are you ok miss?" the officer said, leaning forward and putting his hand on my arm. I looked up into the officers kind eyes and again noticed how handsome he was.
"Yeah," I said clearing my throat, "so...um...who is this guy?"
"We can't provide you with that information yet, until official charges have been brought," the officer said.
"Well, why?" my grandmother spoke up clenching her small fist as it sat in her lap, "this man almost killed my son and no charges have been brought yet!?!" she exclaimed.
"See," the officer began, looking down again,"there is a statue of limitations we are dealing with in this case. We can charge the man with two different offenses depending on the prognosis of your father's condition."
I shock my head, "I'm sorry I don't understand," I said, "Why can't you just charge him with assault or assault with intent to do harm, or something like that?" I asked.
"Because," the officer began, clearly not wanting to make his thoughts known to us, "while that is the charge we would mostly likely bring upon this man, there is a possibility of another charge, " he continued as he slowly looked up, "depending on how things go...."
"Another charge?" I asked, confused, "what other charge."
The officer closed his notebook and looked at me gently, "Depending on how things go, the other charge," he continued with great difficulty, "would be...involuntary manslaughter."

My eyes opened wide. This was it, this was what was keeping the police from pressing charges quite so soon.
They were waiting for my father to die.