by Cylin Busby
She wiped my forehead with a small towel. “Getting your exercise in your sleep, huh? Wish I could do that,” she said. “Instead, they got me counting my points and walking on that treadmill every day. Huh!” She smiled at me. “Now how many points do you think there are in a chicken salad sandwich? Well, you’d be surprised. A whole lot, that’s how many.” She clicked the mattress at the top, then at the bottom, and rotated the bed ninety degrees. “There, now you can look outside.” Beyond her was a big window, winter sun streaming in.
“You have a good day now,” the nurse said, and left the room. At least I think she left; they all wore such quiet shoes, it was hard to tell.
I must have drifted off again, because the next thing I heard was someone talking. “You awake?” a voice said. Olivia. The room was getting dark now, dusk settling in.
She sniffled and rolled her IV pole around the bed so I could see her. There was no chair on that side, so she just sat on the other bed that was there, pulling her knees up to her chest. She looked like she’d been crying.
“Oh, thank God you’re awake,” she said, looking at my eyes. She was quiet for a moment, just looking down. “Do you know how long I’ve been here?” After waiting a beat or two for my answer, she laughed. “I’m so desperate, I’m having a conversation with a human vegetable!” I blinked twice. I’m not a vegetable.
“Okay, you’re not a vegetable,” she said, as if she could hear my thoughts. She lay on her side, tucking her robe carefully around her skinny legs. Her modesty made me sad—like I would really try to sneak a look up her hospital gown.
“I’m just so tired of being treated like a child, you know?”
I blinked yes.
“This is not what we’re supposed to be doing at sixteen. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
I blinked twice, no—also because I wasn’t sixteen; I had just turned seventeen.
“Let’s do something,” she said slowly. “No TV until free period tonight. You obviously are not up for a game of checkers, are you?” She grinned. “I mean, we could try it—I could move your pieces based on yes-or-no blinks, but … I think maybe not.” Her sense of humor was growing on me. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. “I’ll read to you. You like it when your mom does that.” I didn’t remember my mom reading to me. How could Olivia know about it when I didn’t? Had I been unconscious that long?
She opened the bedside table and took a book out of the drawer. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. It looked like my copy of the book. But I hadn’t read that in years—it was so like my mom to bring in that book. She was always pulling out stuff from when I was little and trying to make it relevant now, like she didn’t want to let go of me at age ten or twelve or something. When Olivia opened the book and started reading, I was surprised by how quickly I slipped into the story and forgot about what was going on. I liked her voice and her pale white face, her lips so red as she formed the words.
When I discovered Harry Potter, I ripped through the books at lightning speed. I was ten and I guess I was what you would call a nerd. Actually, I had no idea how nerdy I was until I met Mike. Mike was the person who saved me from a high school career of being a complete outsider. I had to give him total credit: he sought me out, made friends with me. Of course, he did it for totally selfish reasons—he wanted someone to bike with. But I was saved from nerdom, and got a best friend in the bargain, so I’m not about to complain.
I’m not sure if Mike and I ever talked about Harry Potter. If he knew that, at one time, I was obsessed with those books. It’s not the kind of thing he and I would ever talk about—books, reading. It only took Olivia about twenty-four hours to figure it out, and I’ve never actually spoken a word to the girl. As I watched her mouth move, I couldn’t help noticing her face was really pretty, and I was hardly hearing the words. Before I knew it, I was asleep again.
When I woke, it was dark and I was facing the floor. I’d been rotated again. I didn’t know how much time had passed, or even whether it was the same day. But something woke me up. Someone was crying—Olivia, in her room?—but it was closer than that, and I could see, looking to the side, that the door to my room was now shut. Who was crying? It felt like a dream, like a dream I had had before.
That’s when I saw feet, beside my bed, by the small table. They were not in nurse’s shoes, but in sandals. Painted toenails. Little girl’s feet. She was sniffling and doing something in the drawer by my bed, pulling things out of it. Who was this person? She pushed the drawer shut and walked away, still sobbing, sniffling, but her sounds growing more distant as she left the room. I didn’t hear the door close behind her.
I tried to clear my throat, but I knew the sound wouldn’t be loud enough for Olivia or the nurses to hear. The next thing I knew, it was bright in the room, and the nurse was rotating my bed. I must have fallen asleep again.
“I heard from your mom today,” the nurse told me, dropping some liquid into my eyes. “She’s not going to be able to make it after work tonight and she wanted me to let you know. I told her that you wouldn’t be any trouble at all, so don’t make me out to be wrong, okay?” She smiled, and I noticed that she had a big space between her front teeth. Something about that made me instantly like her even more than I already did.
“All right, handsome, you have yourself a good day,” she said, hanging my chart on the foot of the bed and leaving the room.
I couldn’t really wake up. With all the sleep I was getting, you would think it would be easy to be awake, but I drifted in and out, unable to tell what time it was or what day. Sometimes a nurse went down the hall. Another time, someone in a lab jacket came into my room and looked at my chart. Maybe they were giving me some painkillers that were fogging my mind; something was going on, and I couldn’t seem to even focus. How long had I been here anyhow? Suddenly, someone leaned over me.
“Boo!” Olivia said. She was holding her IV pole beside her, and pulled over a chair. “More Potter this evening, I presume?” From the light, I could tell that it was evening already—another day had passed in a blur with no visitors, not any that I knew of, and no doctor to tell me what was going on.
I blinked once for yes.
“Really, I was thinking of something a little racier, like The Scarlet Letter, but if you want Potter,” she joked, opening the drawer. I thought about my dream—or had it been?—from the night before. A girl opening the drawer. Who had that been, in my room?
Olivia read a chapter, one that I actually remembered pretty well, and I was proud to stay awake through the whole thing. When she looked down at my face, I knew she was checking to see if I was still awake, so I blinked once. Yes, I’m still here.
“You’re doing better,” she said, her eyes opening wider. “I can tell. That’s good.” She got quiet for a second and just looked out the window at the dark. “I need a friend,” she finally said, very matter-of-fact. “I know that sounds weird, but … I just don’t have anyone to talk to. And … I probably shouldn’t even tell you this,” Olivia started to say. Then she met my eyes and smiled. “But if I don’t tell you, who will I tell?”
She closed the book and set it on her lap, holding it in both hands. After a deep breath she said, “There was a guy in this room before you … before you came here. He was very sick, I don’t know what was wrong with him. No, that’s not true.” She stopped herself and met my eyes. “I do know, or I think I know. But that’s not the point. He was here for a while, but he was in a coma or something. At first he had a lot of visitors; I watched them come and go, you know, the same way I do with you sometimes. Not spying, just bored.” She smiled and pushed her hair back. “But then, something happened: the visitors came less, even the doctors came less.” She shook her head. “By the time I really noticed, it had been weeks since anyone had come to see him. I started watching more closely during visiting hours, just to be sure. But no one came. And the weeks stretched into months. It made me really sad. But then, as time went by, it made me really angry.” Oliv
ia swallowed. “Then one day, he was gone. Just like that. We woke up one morning and he was … the room was just empty.”
She looked up at me and her eyes were watery. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I know this is a place where they stick kids that no one cares about. It’s a place where they send kids who everyone has given up on. But …”
Was Olivia trying to say that this was going to happen to me? That no one cared about me? That wasn’t true. But then a cold feeling went through me. I thought about my mom’s visit, how she stayed for just a few minutes. She didn’t even take off her coat. Then tonight, she couldn’t come at all.
Olivia went on. “Something’s just not right about the whole thing. Sometimes at night, I get a funny feeling—about him. And I mean, this was his room.” Olivia hugged the book to her chest and scanned the darkening corners. “Have you ever …” She caught herself again. “I know this sounds so creepy and morbid, but have you ever seen or heard anything … weird in here?”
I had to think hard. My reality had been blurry since I woke up here. Drifting in and out of consciousness, the weird dreams, not knowing what was real and what wasn’t. And then there was Olivia and how I felt about her. Half terrified and half captivated. I was in over my head in so many ways; how could I judge what was weird and what wasn’t?
I blinked once. Then just as a smile crept across Olivia’s face, I blinked twice. Maybe there was something. A dream I had. Or was it real? That girl. Someone crying.
“Is that a yes, no, or maybe?” she asked, and seeing me blink twice, added, “Sort of?” She leaned in close to me.
I blinked yes.
“Was it something you saw? A feeling? A dream?” she whispered.
Yes.
Her face was so close to mine, I could smell her clean scent. I felt my heart skip a beat. I was wide awake now. She held my eyes for a moment longer than she needed to. Then, suddenly, she sat back and put the book into the drawer.
“It’s probably nothing. I mean, don’t be scared to sleep in here tonight or anything. You won’t be, right?” she asked casually, like she was embarrassed by what had just happened between us. Did something happen between us?
She glanced at the clock. “They’ll be around soon with night meds, so I’d better scoot.” It sounded like she was forcing herself to be light, like everything was okay. She went to the accordion wall and slid it open, sneaking through the crack. “Night,” she tossed over her shoulder, pulling the wall shut behind her. So that’s how she was able to get in without the nurses or anyone else seeing her.
I realized all at once that, just like I could hear her mom and nurses talking to her, she could hear everything going on in my room. She must have heard everything that went on with the guy in this room before me: every visitor, every doctor, and every nurse. No wonder it freaked her out when … when whatever happened happened. But my situation wasn’t anything like that. I wasn’t in a coma. I wasn’t even really paralyzed. That wasn’t going to happen to me, so she was worried for no reason. At least that’s what I told myself as I started to drift off. I wouldn’t think about the guy who was in here before me, and what happened to him. I was going to get better and get out of here. Hang out with Allie and Mike, and go to school and be regular again. I was going to do it. No way that was going to happen to me. No way.
Chapter 3
I’m walking. It’s dusk. It’s a sidewalk I’ve never been on before. But I know this part of town. There’s a famous theater here, where they do The Nutcracker every Christmas, and a dance studio next door. I look up at the windows, all lit up, a wooden bar running along one wall and mirrors everywhere. Girls doing ballet moves are lined up along one wall. Long bare legs, pink leotards. I watch them for a second, then I look away embarrassed, like I’ve been caught doing something dirty, and stare down at my boots as I walk. When I look up again, I don’t know where I am; I’m lost. The street is no longer the same. I turn, but the theater is gone. There’s a burned-down building instead. I’m scared; something’s not right. I want to run. I hear someone in the bushes next to me; when I look, I see a couple. I can just see his back.
She’s saying GET OFF ME and he’s hissing something at her, swearing, saying horrible, sick things. I want to help her, but I look down and see that my legs are tied together, I can’t move. My arms are tied down. I’m all tied up and suddenly, this guy—he’s standing in front of me.
“You’re okay,” he says. “It’s okay now”—but his voice is ragged and mean. He reaches out to touch my cheek and I see blood on his hand, his knuckles are raw and red like he’s been in a fight, like he’s been punching someone hard. Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me, I’m screaming, but it’s like I’m underwater, I can’t even hear myself. His bloody hand touches my face, I feel a rough finger on my cheek.
“You’re okay, it’s okay now.” The nurse had her hand on my forehead. It was the same nurse I’d seen before, the super-nice one. “You’re gonna be just fine. Me, I’m not so sure.” She smiled, motioning to her uniform. “This is courtesy of you and your heart-rate monitor going off.” There was a light brown stain down the front of her white top and along one leg. “I was all ready to have myself a nice cup of tea and a couple of cookies.” She used a syringe to put something into my IV and I felt it cold in my veins. “There, that’s gonna help you calm down and rest, no more bad dreams.”
She dropped something that clanged on the floor, glass or metal, and it echoed into the empty, dark hallway beyond my room. “Sorry about that, I’m still shaking. This place is so quiet at night.” She wiped a cool cloth over my forehead and looked into my eyes. “When one of these monitors goes off at the station, I just about pee my pants!” She laughed and took a small flashlight from her pocket. She quickly flashed it into my right eye, then the other one. “Okay, heart rate looks good. Now, young man, don’t scare me any more tonight. I can’t take it.” She patted my hand and let out a sigh. “Good night, handsome,” she said, and leaned over the bed to tuck me in. “Sweet dreams now.” As she left the room, she switched out only one set of lights, leaving the other set on, which I was grateful for, and she closed the door only halfway.
When she stepped outside my door, I heard her gasp. “Oh my Lord, you all are determined to give me a heart attack tonight! I was not expecting to see you at this hour!” Her voice trailed off as she led the person away from my door. But I knew who it was: Olivia. She probably heard the heart monitor and got freaked out. The nurse would tell her I was okay, but now I would have to face her questions tomorrow. I tried to look at the clock, but the numbers and lines all floated around together, making no sense. Whatever she gave me was strong and worked fast.
I didn’t want to think about the dream, or slip back into it, like I sometimes do, so I tried to think of something else. I thought about Mom visiting me, and maybe seeing Allie. When was I going to see her again? How long had it been since I had seen her? I thought about the way her hair smelled like her shampoo, like flowers.
When she broke up with me last year, I went into a drugstore one day and actually went to the shampoo aisle to look for it. I couldn’t remember what it was called, so I kept opening bottles and sniffing them, like a total freak, until a clerk who worked there told me I wasn’t allowed to open a bottle unless I was going to buy it. I bought two bottles of random shampoo just so I wouldn’t look like a weirdo pervert who got off on sniffing shampoo. I never told Allie about that.
As I was drifting off, I thought I saw a figure standing by my bed, a shadow. For an instant, I thought it was him, from the dream, and I really was tied down, powerless. Then I blinked and I could see that it was just Olivia. She must have waited for the nurse to go back to her station and snuck out again, coming in through the room divider this time.
“You okay?” she whispered. She looked different; it took me a second with my foggy brain to figure out why. Her hair was down, long and dark around her face. It looked good. She touched my hand, and I felt her wa
rmth as her fingers traveled up my arm to rest on my shoulder, then higher, to my face. I blinked and she smiled, her face so close to mine. “I was worried but you’re okay now, right? I’ll stay with you.” Her hand on my face felt amazing, so different from the hand in my dream. Soft, warm, small. No one but the nurses had touched me in so long. How long had it been? I wanted her hand to stay on me forever. She stroked my cheek and I couldn’t even tell her how good it felt, that I wanted her to never stop.
When I opened my eyes, Olivia was still there, sitting by the bed. “You just missed your mom.” She looked up from her book and gave me a look like she was pissed at me. What happened to the sweet whispering girl from last night?
“What did they give you? You were loopy.” I noticed she had changed out of her pajamas and had her hair in a ponytail again, so she hadn’t been with me all night. I liked her hair down better, but she still looked good. It kind of bugged me that she was beautiful, probably because I was meeting her when I was like this. I didn’t stand a chance.
“While you were playing the lead role in Sleeping Beauty, I had this idea,” Olivia went on, and from the smirk on her face, I was a little concerned. “You know, when we were trying to talk last night, it was really hard to um, communicate? And then I know you had a bad dream—wait, was it about the room? Oh my God, did you see a ghost or something?” I blinked no and she was noticeably disappointed. “Well, I’m sorry if talking to you before bed made you have a bad dream or something,” she said dismissively, like she wasn’t really sorry at all.
“Look.” She brought out a small whiteboard. “It’s a wipe-off board, you know?”
I blinked yes.
“And I was thinking …” She looked from the corner of her eye to the doorway and put her hands on the straps over my right wrist. “Let’s just see …” She undid the straps, never taking her eye off the door. “I think we have about half an hour before your next check.”