by Faye, Amy
“You feeling alright? Do you need anything? I can go get a nurse, or…”
She doesn’t respond, not in any visible way. I suck in a breath. Every second that passes here is another second that I don’t want to think about. I hate hospitals. I have always hated them, as long as I remember them. But I can’t leave someone behind in one, either. Not if I can avoid it.
So I sat down and reached into my bag. “Do you mind if I read to you?”
No response to that, either, but I didn’t know if I was seeing all that well any more. My head hurt, and my eyes hurt, and I just kind of wanted to leave. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t bring myself to, for a dozen different very good reasons.
For one thing, I would have to decide again whether or not I’m going to speak to Dave. He would leave, eventually. That was practically engraved in stone: “Dave Collins shall not around here.”
But I’d run away from enough things in my life. I couldn’t keep running away. If I ran far enough, if I ran long enough, I could probably figure out a way to live with myself. The way that Dave had. Whatever he’d done, he’d apparently settled down. The wild kid had cooled way down since he left. Like staying away from Woodbridge was a cure for him. Staying away from me, too.
I turned the page and kept reading aloud, my mind only halfway on the words. It was something to keep my mind off of things, and eventually, if I was lucky, I wouldn’t have to find something else. At least, I told myself that.
Eleven
Dave
I couldn’t remember what precisely happened between getting hit and waking up in a hospital bed. I assumed all the usual stuff. If I found out in a year that they had removed all my internal organs and sold them on the black market, that would qualify as a pretty big surprise, for example. But I knew that I needed to get the hell out of the bed, and I needed to get back on my feet post-haste.
Of course, as with everything, there are pluses and minuses. Problems, solutions, and benefits, for every situation. On one hand, I don’t have to think too hard about how I’m going to get treated for being in a car accident. Try getting hit by a car in the middle of the Sahara and then wonder where you’re going to get medical treatment. Here’s the answer: you aren’t. It’s going to be a very slow, very hot death for you.
On the other hand, I needed to get out of there for reasons other than just that I need to get back to my life, back to reality, and out of this hospital. For example, I need to find my mother. For example, I need to get to my father’s funeral. For example, I wouldn’t mind seeing Laura again.
So when I pushed myself out of the bed, my hip hurt so bad I thought that I might lose my footing entirely and slide down on the floor, hip first. Bad hip first, incidentally, in case that wasn’t clear.
That would be a problem, and not the kind that I solve super easily by just ignoring it. I’ve had a lot of problems like that in my life, and most of them were easily solved by pretending I hadn’t noticed the problem in the first place. A broken hip wouldn’t be one of them.
But I stayed up, and the pain diminished to a dull ache. The surprise was more worrying than the pain itself, but I just hadn’t realized it hurt until I stood. Then I forced myself to take another step. And another. There was a chair on the other side of the room and I heaved my weight down on it, forcing myself to stay upright.
If this was what I had to look forward to… well, I didn’t know what I could do. I probably should stay in the hospital. I should probably stay in the room, too, and just lay down and think about whatever else is going on in my life.
Eventually, someone would let me go, and I’d be able to get back to whatever remained after my leg healed. But I’ve had worse than this, and the truth was that I could keep walking. I would get tired eventually, but not before I managed to get a little walk in. Isn’t that what they always tell you to do anyways? Get some practice walking and make sure that you don’t just stay in bed? So really, I was just getting a jump-start on rehabilitation.
I forced myself out through the door and waited for someone to stop me. They didn’t. Someone walked right past, wearing a suit of scrubs. They gave me a sidelong glance for a moment before continuing onward.
For my part, I walked over to the nurse’s station. I didn’t recognize the woman behind it, but there had already been three nurses in my room that morning, and I don’t know any of them. This was just number four. Or number five, depending on whether or not I counted the woman who passed me a moment ago.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah,” I said. I put on my most winning smile and waited a beat before I continued, “I wanted to check on my mother? Diana Collins. She hit her head I guess?”
The woman’s eyes darted down, slid over a list somewhere out of sight, and then told me a room number. 415, on the other side of the building. But it was only the other side the short way, and I could make the walk. At least, I hoped I could.
A stream of people passed me by as I walked through the hall. Some of them were moving the same direction. Others were moving the other way. I touched my hip. It hurt to touch, so I yanked my hand away. And then I just kept leaning on the walls and making sure that I kept enough energy to keep moving.
Someone passing by, one of the dozens or hundreds of people who could actually walk properly, without a limp and without taking breaks, stopped. I stopped, too, and realized that I should have been looking at their faces, just in case I missed someone.
“What are you doing out here?”
I smiled at Laura. Always worrying about me, it seemed. Now more than ever.
“Hey. I was just thinking about you.”
She looked at me and at my smile and took a deep breath. “You don’t want to go over there.”
“Like hell, I don’t,” I said. “I have to. That’s my mom.”
“I’m serious.” Linda’s hand touched my side. Touched a few inches above the epicenter of the extreme pain in my hip. I flinched, and then had to catch myself on the railing that extended through the whole hallway.
“I’m serious, too. I don’t have a choice.”
“You didn’t come back for your dad.”
I flinched again. “That was… different.”
“I know,” she said. “But trust me. You don’t want to see her like this. Give her a few days to recover, okay? She knows you were in a car accident. Let her think that it was worse than it was if you have to, but don’t go see her until she’s better.”
I looked in Laura’s eyes. She looked tired, like she’d had all the energy wrung out of her. She’d spent ten minutes complaining to me about her bad day, last night, and she didn’t look half this tired.
“If you insist,” I agreed. “If you’d escort me back to my room, though…” I shifted my weight and took a limp back in the direction I’d come from.
“You think you need help?”
“I know I need help,” I groused. “I think I have to accept it. And besides, I want to make the nurses jealous.”
I winked at her and she touched my hip, gently, but she made sure that it was somewhere it would hurt. I yanked away from her and she reached and wrapped her arms around me, preventing me from falling.
“What’d you do that for?”
“The nurses will be extra-jealous if they see that you’re really hurt, won’t they? Sympathetic.”
I leaned hard on her shoulder. “You better be extra-sympathetic yourself after a stunt like that.”
She switched sides so that her hip was pressed against mine. My good hip, that is, thankfully.
“I’ll be as sympathetic as you want, once you’re in bed. I’ll be even more sympathetic when I’m alone, at home, and there’s nobody to keep me company. But for now, let’s get you back to bed.”
Twelve
Laura
I expected to find the room looking like any other room in the hospital. When I discovered that I was right, though, somehow it felt like I’d been wrong. Like I’d expected something else, in ways that I didn�
�t realize. Like I was expecting the place to look trashed like some kind of rock star had stayed there. Something. Anything.
Instead, there was a bag full of personal belongings on the little table by the bed, which was zip-locked shut. It contained a stack of clothes and other assorted knick knacks. The only thing that he seemed to have removed from it was his cell phone, and he had left that sitting out.
“You should get some rest,” I said softly, as he lifted himself back into the bed. “I’ll see you later.”
“Stay a minute,” he said. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get the hell out of there, because I was getting a very funny feeling. A very bad feeling.
“Stay for what?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay?”
“I’m serious.”
I took a deep breath and settled into the chair by the bed. “What’s the problem?”
“I kept asking you what had changed since I left, you know?”
“I remember.”
“You never mentioned that you had a kid.”
“I don’t see why that’s relevant.”
“You’re not in a relationship or something, are you?”
“No.” The line of questions led into a territory that I didn’t remotely want to approach, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him about it, either. That wouldn’t be fair to him. Or Charlie. Or me, for that matter.
“So what’s the story?”
I sucked in a breath. “His father’s not in the picture any more, I guess.”
“Not at all?”
I weighed the response. Was it a trap? Was he trying to hint that he’d realized that it was him, or was he still just pushing without realizing the mistake?
“I don’t know. But he’s got no strings on me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He took a deep breath. “Cause I saw you weren’t wearing a ring.”
“No, I’m not,” I agreed.
“Good.” He laid his head back. “I was worried.”
“Worried about what?”
“Worried that I’d made a mistake last night. A bigger mistake than usual, I mean.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Why don’t you try to explain?”
“I’m not ready to explain,” he said. “I could explain but I don’t think it would be very helpful, I guess.”
“You don’t say? And you think that it helps more to play the secrecy card?”
“I don’t know, Laura. Don’t try to pull that with me. Just let me think, will you?”
“Do you really want me gone that bad?”
“I’ve been on the move for a long time. I’ve been doing this so long that I don’t know if I could stop if I wanted to. It’s been my whole life. I spent so long getting ready to go, like a coiled-up spring.”
“And now that you’re back, you miss the road?”
“Now that I’m back, I’m thinking about whether or not I made the right choice. And maybe I decide I did. So I don’t want to talk about it, because I don’t know which way it’s going to fall yet, and I don’t want to do something stupid just because I’m thinking.”
I chewed on that a minute. That was a minefield. One that I hadn’t really expected. I heard something about myself in it, the commentary that he wanted me. But I’ve been wanting him to say that to me for so long that I have to be sure that’s what he means. And the truth is, I don’t want to ask him.
“Alright, well… I’ll be back tomorrow to check on your mom. If you want me to check in on you, then…”
He nodded without looking at me. “I’d appreciate that, even if it’s just a minute.”
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. There was a hint of sadness in his voice.
I gave him one last look, wanting to say something. Anything that would make him feel better. But I guessed that wasn’t likely to happen.
So instead I started heading out of the hospital and let myself mope all the way to the car. In a little while, Charlie would be getting out of school. I had about enough time to get groceries before I picked him up. I could let the bus handle it, of course. No reason that I couldn’t. But I preferred not to if I could help it.
I played the conversation back in my head as I waited outside the school. It was the only thing to do. I had a thousand things to think about. For example, there was the fact that I had to give very serious consideration to the realities of being a single parent going to school and working at the same time.
Then I had to give a second consideration to the fact that I was a well-educated woman and working nights at a convenience store, and not in my chosen field of study, and I was coming up on thirty faster than I would have liked for a woman in that position.
Then there were the slim pickings here in Woodbridge for partners. It wasn’t going to get better from here. Nobody scrapes the bottom of the barrel and then finds exactly what they were looking for. But I had been scraping for the past year and was getting exactly who I expected to find at the bottom of the barrel, really. People who weren’t worth my time or my consideration.
What were my alternatives? Just don’t do any of that? Start thinking about taking up a cat collection? Wait for Charlie to get old enough to move out and then rot away?
Never mind any of those things, though. I had to think hard about how I was even going to make it that far. My options weren’t exactly lining up, and I was going to have to give it some very serious consideration. Like… yesterday.
The way that I piled everything on, though, made it sound as if I wasn’t doing all of that already. But it’s not like I haven’t been thinking about solutions to all those problems. The real trouble wasn’t that I needed to come up with solutions to problems that I was avoiding, though I certainly was doing that.
The problem was that I had been searching for solutions for a long time, and the only answers that I’d been finding for all that time were bad. Food stamps were out of the question, for example. I wasn’t even sure where I could spend them if I wanted to. I didn’t know where to apply for them if I wanted them. And I didn’t know whether or not I’d be accepted, with my situation.
I could stop going to school, but that’s throwing the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. If I’m not going to chase down the future, then I don’t need to plan much at all. I can survive. I can make sure that there’s food on the table. I can get by. I’ve had plenty of practice.
The reality is, though, that I’m not sure that I see where I can succeed without a plan. Without something big changing, there’s no plan at all. So right now, I have to wait for something to come along.
The problem is… well, if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. I have one option, and one option only. I need something to change, and every change looks like the one that’s going to be the big one for me. If it’s nowhere close, then it fades into the background.
Dave being here at all isn’t a big change. Dave expressing any sort of interest in me is. And it’s oh so tempting to hear something in it that isn’t there. But I know better than to believe in it. At least, I tell myself I know better. But the reality is, I probably don’t. I would probably walk right back into that trap again without a moment’s hesitation, and there would be nothing stopping me except good sense.
I’ve proved twice now that I don’t have any of that. Not when it comes to Dave Collins. Because he’s my way out, in a way. If he were interested, and I know better than to believe that he is, then it would answer a lot of questions. Whatever he’s out there doing, he could do it here. Having a place to stay without needing to spend half your paycheck keeping it is a big, big margin of breathing room.
I let out a long breath. But I don’t have room for a leap of faith. I know better than to believe that’s even remotely possible. Or at least, I hope that I do. But I could be mistaken.
I could jump right back int
o it and that would be the biggest mistake of all.
Thirteen
Dave
I rubbed my head and pushed myself out of bed again. It didn’t hurt as much any more. I didn’t know if that was because I was healing, or because the last round of painkillers kicked in, but I was happy with either one, as long as I could walk without seeing God. The first stop was the reason that I put myself to the test in the first place. The bathroom. It’s on the way out the door anyways, thankfully.
The other reasons that I left made me want to take as many excuses as I could find to delay, anyways. After all, I tend to believe people when they tell me that I don’t want to go someplace. When they say that I don’t want to know. I’m inclined to buy it, even if it’s not necessarily very good.
The problem is that I don’t get to pretend that’s how it works. I ran away for my whole life. This was the first time that I had an experience that made me stand and stay. If I was going to regret it then I was going to regret it, but I wasn’t about to let myself run into that kind of trouble if I could help it.
I didn’t have to put myself away, thanks to the wonders of hospital gowns. They’re delightfully uncomfortable, but the one thing that I have to give them credit for is that they don’t leave much work to do once you get finished in the bathroom. I just adjust the underwear that I’m being allowed, wash my hands, and away I go.
The feeling in my leg was worse than I had initially realized. I wanted to ignore it. But even I sometimes make mistakes. I could just go back, though. I wanted to find an excuse not to go out more than I wanted to ignore the pain, but in spite of myself it wasn’t a choice. Not really. I had to go, and I had to be strong.
There was a little voice in the back of my mind that was telling me that none of it was important. I didn’t have to think about anything. I didn’t have any responsibilities here. I had come back for the funeral, but that didn’t mean that I suddenly owed anyone anything.
I didn’t have to prove that I could stick around through tough situations, because I was just going to leave again in a few days, once I was out of the hospital.