Wagering Home

by C. M. Boers

  “When will you be able to leave?” I asked.

  “Should have already. Doctors are busy dinking around. They say they’re waiting for the swelling to go down around my spine before they’ll let me go. Maybe next week, they said, but they keep saying that. I stopped getting my hopes up after the second time they said it and it didn’t happen.”

  “I’m supposed to go tomorrow.”

  Her face lit up. “That’s great. You’re going to come back and visit me, right? I mean, we’re best friends and all now.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m only kidding.”

  “I’m not. Technically, you’re the only friend I know.”

  Even though she was snarky and sarcastic, she was fun and sincere, and I liked her. She had no expectation of me. No memories to pull from. She felt safe.

  “Dude, you really took this to a mushy level.”

  I shook my head, laughing. “Sorry.”

  “See that orange fish right there, with the black dot on his head?” She pointed at the water.

  “Yeah.”

  “I named him Greg.”

  “I like it. What about that one?” I pointed to the only one that was all orange, without any other spots.

  “Oh, that’s Gingy. She doesn’t get along very well with Greg, so we don’t like her much.”

  I looked at Grace, who was trying to hold in the laughter. Eye contact was all it took to break the dam, and we both laughed loudly, scaring the fish, which sent another wave of hysterics through us. My cheek burned, and my ribs ached, but I didn’t care.

  When we finally stopped laughing, Grace’s face turned serious again.

  “Have any of your memories come back yet?”

  “No.”

  “Have you had any other visitors?”

  “My boyfriend, I guess.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “A boyfriend, eh? You’re holding out on me! Is he cute?”

  My lip curled. “He is.”

  “Oooh, lucky.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to him.”

  She put her hand up and flicked her wrist, brushing it off. “That doesn’t matter. It’s all about the lips anyway.” She smacked her lips.

  I giggled. “Well, we didn’t go there.”

  “Lame.”

  “I think he’s afraid of me. He was driving . . . you know. . . when the accident happened.”

  “Oh.” She pulled her lips away from her teeth in a grimace.

  “Yeah . . . everything is just so weird right now, with my parents, too. Nothing feels like me. I don’t even know who I am.”

  “Well, I think that’s the cool part.”

  “What? How?”

  “You get to decide who you are all over again. Maybe it’ll be the same, and maybe it won’t, but not many people can restart their lives with a clean slate. I would love to start over and not remember. Maybe I wouldn’t miss horses so much.”

  I took in what she was saying, and I totally got it. It made sense and partly sounded good. Another part of me worried I’d never get back what I had. Which would make me happier?

  “Hey, you want to get some dessert?” Grace asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Where are we going to get dessert?”

  “Come on.” She was already almost to the door. I envied how fast she was in that thing. I glared down at my crutches.

  I got up and followed behind her out of the oasis. She rolled over to a wheelchair that sat discarded by the front door. “Want to make getting around a little easier?”

  “Oh my gosh, so much.” I panted after the small walk.

  Grace laughed at me as I tried to get the hang of maneuvering myself around.

  “Let’s go!” She pushed herself into the elevator and pressed number two. I rolled myself

  back and forth in the elevator, practicing.

  “This is kinda fun,” I said.

  “Give it a day,” she grumbled. “Your arms will be so sore.”

  “Well, it beats the crutches. They should have just given me one of these from the start.”

  The elevator doors chimed, springing open on floor number two.

  “Race ya!” Grace called as she sped out of the elevator.

  “Cheater!” I shrieked, throwing the wheels forward as fast as I could, ignoring the burn.

  Our giggles bounced off the walls in the hallway, echoing back at us.

  Grace took a corner faster than I dared, losing me a great distance, then stopped.

  “I win,” she whispered and put a finger over her lips. She pressed a button, and another set of doors swung open. Bunnies and flowers covered the walls in bright colors.

  “Where are we going?” I whispered. Nerves set in. We weren’t supposed to be here; I could feel it in my bones.

  She put her finger to her lips again, telling me to be quiet. She inched along, trying not to make any noise until we came to a galley way. It looked like a small passage connecting the two corridors on opposite sides of the walls. Except in this hallway, there was a refrigerator, ice machine, and cabinets. Grace went straight to the fridge.

  “Watch out for nurses,” she hissed.

  She reached inside as my heart thundered in my chest. I looked up and down the empty hallways, while she filled her lap with two sodas and gelatin cups, then went for the freezer and pulled out two popsicles.

  “Go!” She was using only one hand to propel herself; the other held tight to the treasure in her lap.

  We raced back to the double doors as quiet as we could. When they shut behind us, we glanced at each other, and a fit of laughter overtook us.

  “Oh my gosh, my heart was racing in there!” I clutched my chest.

  “Ha! That was nothing!”

  At the elevator, she handed me half of the contraband and continued onto the elevator. This time, she pressed the button to take us to the top floor.

  At the top, she brought me over to the end of the hallway, where an enormous window let us look down at the freeway below. For a while, we sat in silence, eating our loot, watching the cars drive by below.

  “You’ve been all over this hospital, haven’t you?”

  The twinkle in her eye faded a bit. “Been here a while. Not much else to do. TV only cuts it for so long.”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t even watch it for a few minutes this morning.”

  “Hey! Where are you two supposed to be?” An older woman in scrubs stood behind us, with her hands on her hips. Her scowl was intimidating, and I didn’t much care for the angry way she spoke.

  “Uh . . .” I didn’t really know what I was supposed to say. Heck, I didn’t even pay attention to which floor we were supposed to be on. I turned to Grace.

  “All right, Warden. We’ll go quietly.” She held up her hands in surrender.

  Grace wheeled herself to the elevator. I stayed close, worried this nurse would give me a tongue-lashing if I was alone. She followed behind us and into the small confines of the elevator. Our fun was over.

  She even went as far as walking us all the way to our rooms. Grace turned off into a room four doors before mine. I gulped.

  When I turned into my room, she kept walking. I heard her loud voice at the nurse’s station, just a few paces away from my room.

  “Caught some patients wandering around upstairs. They’re back in their rooms now, in case you were looking for them. 301 and 305.”

  I couldn’t hear the response.

  After maneuvering myself into bed, I laid back and pulled the covers up to my neck.

  Soon after, a nurse came in to check on me.

  “Have a nice adventure?” she asked.

  “Umm . . .”

  “How’s your pain?”

  “I’m sore.”

  “I’ll bet. I’ll get you some pain meds. And in the future, until you’re discharged, you need to let us know where you’re going, in case something happens. It’s a safety concern, especially with your memory loss.”

  I nodded.

>   I presumed this was what a little kid went through when they got in trouble for getting out of bed, rather than the eighteen-year-old adult sitting in the hospital bed like I was.

  She brought me the medicine and turned down the lights.

  “Goodnight.”

  “‘Night,” I said.

  In the morning, tapping woke me from a deep sleep. A bird sat perched at my window, tapping its beak at the glass. I squinted against the bright sunlight.

  Rolling onto my back, stretching, I caught sight of someone sitting next to my bed. I jumped, clutching my chest.

  “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”

  Her chortle came out of nowhere, proud of getting the best of me. “Well, I’ve been waiting long enough.”

  I groaned, rubbing my eyes. “Ugh, you’re a morning person. Yuck.”

  “Yep, I am. And you are clearly not. It’s almost lunch; you missed breakfast. Don’t worry, I ate it for you.”

  “Thanks.” I rolled my eyes.

  Grace reached around the bed to press the button to make my bed sit upright.

  “Hey! I’m sleeping here!” As much as I fought it, a smile crept up on my face anyway, making Grace laugh.

  “Not anymore, you aren’t,” she said.

  “Fine! I’m up. I’m up.”

  She stopped pressing the button, leaving me in a half-sitting, half-lying position.

  “Good. I wanted to get you my number before your parents got here. They’re kind of hovery.”

  “Hovery?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you know, they hover, always watching. Sort of creeps me out.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you have a cell phone?”

  I pressed a finger to my lips. “Ah . . . I guess it broke in the crash.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “They didn’t get you a new one yet?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know how things worked with that. Did I pay for it? Did they? I’d been too shy to ask. Not that I’d even had time to consider it anyway.

  Grace grabbed the pad of paper off the counter, wrote something down, and handed it to me.

  “That’s my cell. You’d better call me.”

  “I will.”

  My parents rounded the corner, and my mom stopped short, like she thought she was in the wrong room.

  “Uh . . . Melanie?” She peeked around Grace.

  “Hi. I’m Grace.” Grace rolled her wheelchair forward, with her hand extended.

  It was my dad who took her hand, gently shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you, Grace. I’m Ted, Melanie’s dad, and this is Angie, her mother.”

  “Good to meet you, too,” Grace said. “I should go . . . I’ve got therapy.” She turned back towards me, raising her eyebrows. “See you later, Mel.” She nodded to my parents and rolled out.

  “She seems nice,” Dad said.

  “She is.”

  Mom remained quiet, her expression unreadable.

  “Are you ready to go home?” Dad asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Good.”

  For the next hour or so, I watched them busy themselves with straightening up my things, gathering them in small boxes, then finally taking them down to the car. The room slowly returned to the hospital room it once was, bare; much like my expectation for what my house looked like, or what kind of car I would ride home in.

  When they were downstairs with the last load, the doctor peeked his head in.

  “No parents today?” he asked.

  “They’re downstairs.”

  He nodded and handed me a stack of papers. “I have your discharge papers. You’ll need to follow up with your primary care doctor in two days, then again a week after that. From then on, it’s up to your doctor.” He looked at me expectantly.

  I nodded.

  “For your leg, you’ll need to see an orthopedic specialist in two weeks. Hopefully, if all is healing properly, the cast will come off in about five weeks.”

  I nodded again, this time without waiting for his sharp review.

  “Any questions?”

  I shook my head.

  “How’s the memory?” he asked.

  “Nonexistent.”

  He glanced back down at the tablet and typed a note.

  “Is that bad?” I asked.

  He turned and rested himself against the edge of the bed.

  “There isn’t really a guide for this. With all head injuries, everyone reacts differently. I’ve seen it all; some remember as soon as the next day, while some it takes months, or years.”

  “Years?”

  “That was a rare case,” he said.

  “But that could be me. I could be the rare case.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  My parents walked in, ending our conversation. My stomach twisted. Years? How could anyone live like this for years?

  “Oh, hello, Doctor. Is everything set for our little girl to come home?” Mom asked.

  “She’s all set. Good luck, Melanie, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I never have to see you again.” He winked and strutted out of the room.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Dad said, his eyes twinkling. He stepped over, holding out his hand to help me up.

  I’d just gotten to my feet when Wendy appeared with a wheelchair.

  “Hop in, Pumpkin.”

  She locked the wheels as I turned to sit, then pushed me down to where my dad pulled the car up to the curb. Part of me wasn’t surprised to find a luxury car waiting. It shined like it just came from a fresh car wash, but I’d be willing to bet it hadn’t.

  I had more help than I needed getting in, arms and hands held out for me to take. I sat in the front seat, giving me more room for my cast. Mom got in behind me. The smell of rich leather almost overwhelmed me in a good way.

  Dad stuck my crutches into the trunk before he clambered behind the wheel. Hints of his cologne and Mom’s perfume filtered through the air, relaxing me, despite the nerves that grew more and more the closer we came to a home I lived in but didn’t know.

  The car stayed quiet. None of us seemed to know how to behave around each other.

  Before long, the car turned into a rounded drive that sat at the base of an enormous two-story house, with four windows across both the top and bottom floors. It appeared huge for just the three of us.

  I opened my door, preparing myself to get out.

  I gaped at the monstrosity. “Have we always lived here?”

  My dad handed me the crutches. “Since you were three.”

  * * *

  I spent the better part of the first week home learning the layout of the huge house, and the rest of the time hiding in my room. Mom always seemed to be close by as I roamed, like she was watching my every move, waiting for something to happen.

  Was this normal for her? Maybe she was trying to make herself available if I needed her.

  It was clear to me now that Grace was right. The hovering was stifling.

  For weeks I tried to find my place, but nothing seemed right. I hobbled around with my crutches, counting down the days till the cast was removed and the doctor cleared me to do anything I wanted. My dad was gone more often than not, working. And Jeremy kept his distance, but I could tell it was killing him. Not much I did seemed right. Even at dinner, Mom looked at me strange most often.

  “What?” I asked her one night.

  “Oh, nothing.” Her eyes flitted to my plate.

  “No, what?” I demanded.

  “You don’t like lima beans,” she said.

  I looked down at my plate, where I’d heaped a large pile of lima beans and already eaten half. “They tasted fine.”

  Mom nodded, her mouth set.

  I pushed them to the side, unable to bring myself to eat the rest, knowing she thought it was wrong.

  * * *

  Jeremy came over at least once a week when he didn’t have to work, like today. I stood, balancing on one leg in front of the mirror in my b
edroom, staring at myself, trying to memorize every feature. My blue-gray eyes, which weren’t overly large, though they couldn’t exactly be called small either. My hair, the blonde arrow-straight locks, I think was my favorite thing about the way I looked. As I continued brushing it long after it was tangle-free, I heard the doorbell.

  I knew Mom would answer it and I could take my time getting downstairs. My armpits were bruised from the crutches, and I moved as slowly as I could to save myself from the pain.

  At the top of the staircase, I decided I just didn’t have it in me to hobble down them again. I sat down on the top step and laid the crutches next to me. Like a child playing on the stairs, I scooted down on my butt, one step at a time, my broken leg extended out in front of me.

  Jeremy, followed by my mom, appeared at the base of the stairs when I’d almost made it to the bottom. He raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms across his body. His button-up white Oxford shirt tightened against his arms.

  His lips went tight as he tried to suppress a smile. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Going down the stairs. My arms hurt.”

  He helped me to my feet. “Are you up for going out? If not, we could just stay here, like we’ve been doing –”

  “Out,” I blurted, then blushed. “Let’s go out.”

  Jeremy turned to my mom. “Is that okay?”

  “Um . . .” She paused.

  “I’m eighteen. It’s not up to her.” I headed to the door.

  I wasn’t sure what transpired behind me, but I had to get away from this house. Get away from their sad eyes. I was suffocating under my parents’ scrutiny. I didn’t remember anything, and their constant presence was just a reminder of that.

  Jeremy jogged to catch up with me. He held the car door and my crutches for me to get in.

  I breathed in deep. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I watched out the window as he drove, hoping to guess where we were going, but the truth was, nothing looked familiar. I may as well have been on Mars.

  “I’ve never seen you act like that before,” Jeremy said.