Pieces of Hope

by Carter, Carolyn

  “I can hear him!” I told Rin and Charlotte. Watching him beside the bed, I smiled as Charlotte pulled my fingers from my lips. Rin gripped my other hand.

  “Your connection may linger for a while,” Charlotte said quietly.

  “Really?” Finally, some good news. “Can Ethan hear my thoughts, too?”

  “Maybe.” Rin looked skeptical.

  “Yeah, I’m sort of hoping he can’t,” I admitted, looking over at him. “If he knew, really knew how much I loved him, he might think I’m psychotic.”

  I expected them to laugh, but when I turned, I could see that they were crying. The moment was here, pressing in on me, solid and real. I felt a ripple of fear course through me. Looking down at my nearly lifeless body, Rin worked at sounding encouraging, “You can do this, Hope. You’re braver than you know.”

  “But I’m not! I’m an enormous chicken!” I blubbered. I was so frightened I half-expected feathers to sprout from my skin.

  “Don’t let the Colonel know,” Rin sniffled. “You’ll be in huge trouble.”

  I laughed between sobs. “I’m in pretty huge trouble already, Rin.”

  “No, no . . . you’re fine,” Charlotte insisted, denying the obvious. “I mean, fine might be a strong word . . . But we’re here with you and we can help.”

  We took a huge collective breath and stared mindlessly at my body. My left leg was in the air, suspended by a frame that held it still. I looked chalky and sickly and (in the words of Rin) skeleton-skinny.

  “My hair looks good,” I said to myself. In fact, I’d never seen it look any better. I’d have to thank Claire later. She must have really worked at it.

  “Ethan said you weren’t that bad off,” Charlotte babbled on. “I’m sure you look worse than you actually feel.”

  My voice was barely a whisper. “I hope so.”

  We took another collective breath and continued staring.

  “Do you think it’s going to hurt?” I winced. Of course, it was going to hurt. It was going to royally suck. It was going to hurt like a thousand train wrecks.

  We stared another moment.

  “You’re under a lot of meds,” Charlotte went on. Rin and I looked at her as though she were making it up. “What? No, you are. I talked to Ethan for a long time at the party. We discussed a lot of things. That was one. And . . .” she added proudly, “I remembered.” Yes, the dead and their poor memories.

  Rin looked surprised. “Good for you, Char.”

  “What else did you talk about?” I asked, hoping to put off the inevitable another gut-wrenching moment longer.

  “Stuff,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Why don’t you just get back in your body and find out?” She sounded so darned spunky. I liked this new version of Charlotte.

  “Do you think I’ll feel any different?” I wondered.

  Rin thought for a moment and then said, “Heavy, I would think.” Before I could ask, she went on, “Souls tend to be light. I think a body will feel . . .”

  “Heavy,” I repeated for her, thinking what good sense that made.

  By now, Ethan was staring a hole into me as if I were about to bolt up, throw back a huge Hope Van Winkle yawn, and prance my little backless-gowned self straight out of the ICU.

  And he had everyone’s attention. Claire and Brody had gathered at the end of the bed, studying me with the same narrow focus as Ethan. Gigi, alongside Dad and across from Ethan were eyeing me with such faith—such blind, stupid, Hope-can-wake-up-from-a-coma-and-be-good-as-new faith—that I knew a more perfect moment would never arrive. If I stood here even two seconds longer, that moment would slip right past me.

  I hugged Charlotte first, squeezing her until she begged for breath, then I held onto Rin. We were all crying, wiping our noses by the time I gripped the rail, mimicking the way I’d watched Amora do it just thirteen days ago.

  Thirteen days . . . more like a lifetime, it seemed.

  “Be brave,” they said together, tears flowing freely.

  “We’ll be right here when you wake up.” Rin forced a smile.

  I tried to say something back, but couldn’t. It was the fluttering, I realized . . . It unnerved me, left me incapable of feeling anything but fear because I knew it wasn’t the good kind . . .

  The kind that made your tongue trip and your insides flip in anticipation. No. This, without question, was the kind that made you wish you were only dreaming. The kind that made you want to run screaming in the opposite direction. The kind that left little doubt in your mind that something terrifying was about to happen.

  I looked at my hand where it gripped the bedrail. It wouldn’t stop shaking.

  “You’ll stay with me?” Be brave . . . be brave . . . be brave . . .

  They nodded together, crossed their hearts. Then I crawled onto the bed, closed my eyes tight, and lay back into my body. Just before I crashed, I realized two things.

  I definitely saw a shadow in the corner of the room (and I didn’t think it was Daniel). And I’d forgotten to ask Charlotte what the big horrible but was . . .

  28 Big Buts

  Even with my eyes closed, I could smell them.

  Though I didn’t know why, there were people hovering around me. I guessed there were five . . . no, seven. Two of them I couldn’t actually smell, but I definitely knew there was seven.

  To my left, a woman—Expensive. Chanel or Prada or some other designery scent. Next to her, an older man. Homey. Soapy. And then a pair of fragrances so close that they mingled together. One, a female’s—citrus. The other, a male’s. The kind they advertise on TV that gets the girls. Then, the two I couldn’t place. The two I could only sense. The two that had no scent.

  The last person was to my right. Close. I lingered over him the longest. He had a scent that made my heart speed up. He smelled of dark woods, reminding me a little of an Oregon summer. And clean, just a hint of fabric softener. They were both my favorites. The combo was insanely intoxicating.

  Do you think she’s all right? I heard an unknown little-girl voice saying. I would have thought she’d be awake by now. Do you think she’s in pain?

  I don’t know, Charlotte. Give her a minute.

  Did I do the wrong thing? The youthful voice sounded torn. Should I have told her she might not remember . . . traveling, her mom, the Ferris wheel . . .

  You mean everything, Charlotte.

  Yes, well . . . I couldn’t break her heart like that. There’s a chance, isn’t there . . . a chance she’ll remember? The one named Charlotte was pleading now.

  Creesie would say there’s always a chance . . . the heart will find a way or something like that. Sometimes you gotta have faith . . .

  Don’t go quoting me song lyrics! You know how I love George Michael.

  There was the sound of sniffling and long, drawn-out breaths.

  Charlotte, don’t cry. You’ll make me cry. You know how I hate to do that.

  I was preoccupied with the sound of the two girls talking. I was fairly sure I wasn’t hearing them with my ears, but if not, how could I hear them? My fuzzy brain refused to think; it was as if it hadn’t been used in a while. And why did I feel so heavy? It felt like a hundred pound weight was sitting on my chest. When I attempted to exhale, it didn’t budge. It hurt. I wanted it off me.

  I should just open my eyes, I thought. Open . . . Eyes.

  WHO SUPERGLUED MY EYES SHUT? Oh, God! I can’t breathe! I can not breathe! SOMEBODY GET THIS WEIGHT OFF ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!

  Hope? The little-girl voice paused. I think you can hear me . . . right? Just take a shallow breath. You’re okay. And say something else. I heard you just now.

  I breathed in little breaths. Who . . . are . . . you?

  There was a long pause. Nobody answered.

  Um . . . hello out there . . . I don’t think I’m speaking with my mouth. Am I crazy? Oh, God! Oh, God! I’m schizophrenic, aren’t I? I’ve always known Aunt Dee was
nuts. I’VE CAUGHT SCHIZOPHRENIA!

  She doesn’t remember us! the girl wailed as she cried.

  Calm down, Charlotte. Maybe it’s just temporary.

  Hey . . . Helloooo! . . . Crazy person here!

  You aren’t crazy, Hope. Just calm down. I’m Rin. Call me, Rin.

  The one with the little-girl voice spoke again. Tell her something else.

  She can hear you, Charlotte. Just talk to her! Rin sounded testy.

  Hey, um, Hope . . . It’s me, Charlotte. I think if you calm down you might feel a little better.

  Is there something on my chest? Do you see it? Can you get it off?

  No, Hope. There’s nothing on your chest . . . By the way, it’s me again . . . you know, Charlotte.

  For goodness sake, Charlotte. She recognizes your voice. She’s not deaf!

  Stop it, Rin! I’m nervous! You’re going to make me cry again!

  Don’t cry, Charlotte, I said, calmly. There’s not a weight on my chest?

  No, there isn’t. See, you’ve been in an accident . . . a car wreck and you’ve been in a coma for thirteen days. That’s why you feel so funny.

  I sucked in a breath, a more substantial one.

  “Did everyone see that?” It was Brody’s voice. I heard him with my ears!

  Hope, are you still with us? Charlotte asked softly.

  Yes, I’m here.

  The thing is . . . this car accident . . . well, you met us during that time and you became our . . . our friend . . . and . . . She broke off, crying again.

  Then Rin took over. Charlotte is trying to say . . . well, we hope you won’t forget us. We’re not sure you’re going to be able to see us when you open your eyes . . .

  So I am schizophrenic?

  She laughed. No, it’s a little more complicated than that.

  I panicked. You tell me to be calm and then you say something like that?

  Hope, it’s nothing to be scared of, Charlotte soothed.

  Oh, good, I said, breathing in an out in an almost normal pattern now.

  There was muffled whispering in my head. It sounded like an argument.

  What is it? I finally asked as my heart raced off. Please tell me.

  Yeah, the complicated thing is . . . Rin cleared her throat. We’re dead.

  An alarm bell went off near my head. It was loud and hurt my ears. Then that boy with the woodsy scent shut it off. I smelled him as his hand went by.

  You should try to open your eyes now, Rin urged.

  I tried again. My eyelids seemed disconnected from my brain.

  “Look!” Brody shouted. “She’s trying to open her eyes!

  “Hope?” Dad squeezed my hand. “Can you open your eyes, honey?”

  Brody gave another ear-shattering shout from the end of my bed, shaking my left leg in his exuberance. I winced in pain. “Why isn’t she opening her eyes?” he cried. “Oh, God . . . is she brain-dead?”

  Dad spoke over Brody. “You’ve been in a car accident, honey. But you’re going to be all right. Can you hear us, honey?” He sounded so scared. “You’re in the hospital. Can you say something?”

  “Hope, are you brain-dead?” Brody repeated. He was such a doof, as if the brain-dead could answer him. “I’m telling you Claire, she won’t ever be the same! I just know it!” Brody’s voice was muffled now. It sounded like his hands were covering his face. I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up. I wanted to sit up and slap him.

  Hope, it’s me, Charlotte said. You might want to say something soon.

  Try using your mouth, Rin suggested a little sarcastically.

  “Hope, it’s your grand . . . it’s Gigi. For goodness sake, open your eyes. If you don’t, I’m going to give Brody all your CD’s. I know how you love them and I swear I’ll do it. Don’t test me! I’m going to count to five, young lady . . .”

  I concentrated. If they would only shut up for a second, I was sure I could manage. Open . . . Eyes. Come on! Open Open Open!

  “One . . . two . . .”

  Try again, Charlotte encouraged.

  “Three . . . four . . .”

  Concentrate, Hope! Rin demanded. Are you sure you’re concentrating?

  I’m concentrating! Just shut up, will you? I can’t think straight!

  Yeah, shut up, Rin. She’s trying to think. Go ahead and think, Hope.

  “Four and a half . . . four and three quarters . . .”

  CON-CEN-TRATE! I told myself. CON-CEN-TRATE!

  “I’m telling you she’s brai—”

  “Shut up, Brody. I’m not brain-dead . . . You are.” In my ears it sounded like I was screaming, but my mouth was so dry, I was sure it wasn’t more than a whisper. I pressed my lips together and practiced swallowing. The good-smelling boy to my right stuck something plastic in my mouth. I sucked in several ice-cold gulps of water. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I could speak. That was a victory.

  A long moment later came the laughter. At first, it was the nervous kind—the kind that bursts forth when no one’s really sure if it’s okay to laugh or not, the kind that starts off really soft and then roars off into a crazy crescendo.

  Just not from me or the great-smelling boy beside me.

  He must have stuck his finger in something gooey before he rubbed it over my eyes because at that moment I could finally open them. And he was the first person I saw. I knew I must have been hallucinating—on some powerful drugs of the best kind—because he was undeniably breathtaking, even with that big black eye.

  He had a square jaw and a wide mouth. His teeth were straight and white. It was the kind of mouth that was made for kissing. And even as I considered this, I heard that cartoon sound effect in my head—the one that the coyote’s feet makes when he comes to a grinding halt. This guy was out of my league. Way out. Yes, definitely. Maybe. It had to be from the drugs in my system. Yes, that was it. I was probably high.

  “Hello, Hope. Welcome back.” He smiled, but there was such sadness in his eyes. His voice was deep. It resonated inside me, striking a chord that was so familiar, like a voice I had heard before and loved . . .

  Yes, I was definitely high.

  I glanced around the room. My eyes didn’t move quite right; they seemed to get stuck at times, and I would have to exert effort to make them move again. I was beginning to gather how serious this was; I thought I’d heard Gigi threaten to give away my CD’s. The whole family was there: Gigi, Claire, Brody, Dad, great-looking, great-smelling boy and . . .

  Who were they?

  At the end of my bed stood a perky-looking redhead, waving so frantically I feared her arm might fall off—and a subdued-looking Asian girl, looking far less happy. I took an extra-long minute to look at them because they were so stunning. The Asian girl seemed to have black silk on her head. It flowed to her elbows in straight lines, and she had black eyes that sparkled like jewels. Both of their eyes scintillated. Only the redhead had blue eyes, slightly darker than Claire’s.

  Suddenly, I knew who they were. They were the two who had talked to me in my head, the two had walked me through my tragedy, the two who were . . .

  Oh, no . . . !

  She can see us! The copper-haired girl flashed a mega-watt smile at the Asian girl.

  “Honey,” Dad moved closer, covering my hand in his. I looked slowly his way, wincing as I did so. My neck was unbelievably stiff. “Honey, you’ve been in a coma for thirteen days. Thank God, you’re with us.”

  He paused to wipe the tears from his face, and out of my side vision, I saw several others do the same. Why was Brody kissing Claire? That was odd.

  The breathtaking stranger stared at me, his golden-green eyes on my face. He was so intense. Claire would say he smoldered. Yes, she would definitely say that. I couldn’t help myself. I stared back. Brody ran into the hallway, cell phone in hand.

  Now Gigi was saying something, but I couldn’t look away from the boy at my bedside. She had missed me; I heard that much, and then she began to cry. It was unusual for my grandmother to cry
. She thought it made her look vulnerable. Dad draped an arm around her and together they cried some more, but he never let go of my hand.

  The boy at my bedside shifted, and I looked back at him.

  Can you hear me, Hope?

  Though his mouth hadn’t moved, I nodded a little.

  Do you trust me?

  Without hesitation, I felt my head nod again.

  Your mother came to me, he said, and I didn’t blink. Why didn’t this sound odd to me? Your mother told me to do something, Hope. He groaned in my head. God, I hope she’s right.

  I just kept looking up at him, ignoring the steady yammering of my family.

  Close your eyes, he said.

  I couldn’t believe this undeniably gorgeous guy was talking to me—in my head! These were some really great drugs they had me on.

  As if he heard me, he laughed in my thoughts. I don’t know how long this will last, Hope. Please, just close your eyes.

  I did as he asked, and everything else went away—the sounds and feels and smells of the hospital room, the lumpy bed beneath me, the ache in my leg.

  Behind my eyelids, there wasn’t darkness. The wind whipped my hair and it was a warm, sunny day with nothing but blue skies. And he was there. He had his back to me as he stood on a precipice that looked out over a bluff. The shape reminded me of a pirate’s plank. I wasn’t in a hospital gown, but instead, I had on jeans, a red shirt, and my favorite matching sneakers. He turned in my direction. It must have been the lighting—he glowed pale violet. Somehow, he seemed more beautiful than he had the instant before.

  He walked closer, slowly . . . as if he could hear the heavy beating of my heart.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. When he was close, he put his arms around me. They felt strangely comforting. Then he leaned in for a kiss. My mind questioned what I was seeing and the expectation of what was about to happen. Was this really happening?

  I opened my eyes. He held onto the bedrail with a fierce grip. We were back in my hospital room. I struggled to make it all make sense.

  Trust me, he repeated more urgently, his mouth never moving.

  When I closed them again, he was right where I had left him, inches away. Slowly again, he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed me there. He looked at me once with a sort of quiet desperation before he moved his lips to mine. His mouth tasted of sweet dreams—the ones you never want to wake from. I let it lead me elsewhere . . . beyond the boundaries of my mind . . . to places I’d only imagined.