By now you know the drill, right?
This one is from a book I titled: Chrysalis
*not edited*
Give me a shout if you like it.
I was dismissed. Her mom, rosy faced with great purple
crescents under her eyes, stood in front of her room in that cold hospital
hallway and told me it was best if I left—per her wishes. And as they cowardly snuck back into her
room, stark white and sterilized, I caught a glance of her. She was clad in that thin diamond patterned
patient gown with way too many ties and loops—refusing to look at me. And too many bandages—and more tears than
I’ve seen her shed in our whole lives. And
I felt like I was on the cusp of collapse.
I took the few steps to the other side
of the hallway and let myself slip down it until my butt hit the cold, bleach
smelling floors. My feet sprawled out in
front of me, a hazard to those who passed me, on trails to visit those who
would actually accept their presence. My
presence in her room was negated. But it
felt like my presence in her life was in the real state of limbo. Doors opened and closed around me, family and
friends, flowers and balloons entered and exited with promises of the next
time. But her door stayed sealed.
I heard a familiar rhythm of footsteps
and looked up for the first time since facing her parents. My father sat beside me in silence. And I knew he would remain silent as long as
I needed.
“She won’t—she won’t let me see
her. She won’t even talk to me.”
He heaved a heavy breath through his
mouth and banged his head against the boring khaki wall behind him. He wiped
his hands on his business suit slacks hoping they’d help him with a fatherly
response.
“Give her some time. She’s been through a lot. But you two have been through so much
together. She’ll come around. Don’t give up on her. Posey needs you more than ever right now,
whether she admits it or not.”
“Please don’t make me leave Dad. Tomorrow is Sunday. I don’t have school. Don’t make me leave her yet.” I was ready to get on my knees and beg if I had to.
“I’ll make you a deal. I promised your mother that I would at least
make sure you ate something. So don’t
make a liar out of me. Let’s go
downstairs, get something in your stomach and then I’ll leave you here.”
I didn’t answer immediately and he knew
that as my silent protest. I never
talked back to my parents, I just stayed quiet.
“Bridge, she’s gonna need to lean on
your strength to help her get through this.
If you’re not taking care of yourself, then you won’t be any use to
anyone. You’ve been here since ten
Friday night and I bet you haven’t eaten since dinner Friday night. Am I right?”
I shrugged, too stubborn to admit how
correct he was. It was now seven on
Saturday night. But how could I eat when
she couldn’t. Hell, I had a hard time
sitting here talking, because she couldn’t talk to anyone for more than a few
seconds.
“I’m not really asking, Bridge.” He got
up and waited. My stomach betrayed me by
growling in agreement with him.
“Fine, but can I get it to go? I need to be here, Dad. I can’t be gone if they come out, or if
something happens to her. What if she
needs me?”
He put his arm around my shoulders and
squeezed. “Son, she’s on so much pain
medication. She barely has minutes of
lucidity, much less time to miss you.”
I pushed away from him. “Don’t tell me
that. Somewhere in that burned body
she’s there. She doesn’t like to be
alone. She hates the dark. Don’t tell me she’s not missing me. She’s my
best friend and I…”
“I’m sorry. You’re probably right. Come on, I promised your mother I’d make you
eat.”
As we passed the rooms, some doors wide
open, some ajar, the nausea peaked and then subsided, waves of health and
sickness. She was worse than any patient
that I’d laid eyes on in the whole burn unit. And the burn unit here in Minton,
Kansas was the only one in the state. So I knew all the bad cases had been sent
here. I’d paced the halls for nearly six
hours the night before, waiting for someone to tell me something, waiting for
some word of hope. And then Posey’s mom
came out and told me she was in bad shape but she’d recover, simple, cold
words, all the while carrying a face that told me she didn’t think me worthy of
an update, much less an explanation of said update. It wasn’t me, per se, it was her. They were beside themselves with worry and it
animated itself through icy words.
We got in line with the nurses and
doctors, all pretending to be the experts on health while they filled their
trays with cheeseburgers, chili fries and pie.
My dad slapped a tri-slotted plate on my tray. It was filled with fish sticks, peas and
mashed potatoes that looked like they’d been brought forward in time from a
1970’s TV dinner.
He grabbed an orange juice from the
standing refrigerator and put it on my tray.
“Don’t.
Just don’t. I know you’ve only
drunk your precious Dr. Pepper all night.
You’re probably wired as all get out.”
He was right. I’d even had to bum
a dollar from an old man for the last one.
All I had was a debit card.
“Ok.”
We brought our trays to sit down at a table and suddenly I realized I’d
been hood winked. I’d wanted to get the
meal to go. But here I was; real
silverware in hand, no Styrofoam plate in sight.
I stuffed the food in my mouth and went
through the motions of chewing. But it
all tasted the same to me. It tasted
like time wasted. It felt like missed
opportunity. Halfway through the peas, I
realized I didn’t even eat peas. I
chugged the orange juice in one pull and slammed it down, contest won.
“Just calm down, Son. Let me eat and then you can go back up.”
I loved my dad, I did. He was always there for me. He took off work for my swim meets and my
water polo matches, even the out of town ones.
He paid attention when I was down and when I was up. He was what most people wished for in a
father. But right now he was royally pissing
me off.
“I ate.
The deal was—eat and then back to her.
We made a deal.”
“Ok,” he relented. “Let me give you some cash in case you need
it. And tomorrow, early, I want you
home. You have to go to school. I won’t compromise on school.”
“I promise I will Dad. Thanks.”
I hugged him quick and got back upstairs to my girl or her room, since
they wouldn’t let me in. But I didn’t
believe for one flat second that she’d wished me away. It just wasn’t possible.
I sat.
I paced. I crossed and uncrossed
my legs. The nurses spoke to me. I spoke back.
I watched trays of food go in for her parents and empty trays come out. Her Dad came out and looked at me with
pity.
“Bridger, I thought we asked you to go
home. She doesn’t want you here.”
I stood up to defend myself, “Sir, she’s
my best friend. Please.”
His next few words were spoken without
any emotion and his eyes stared at some fleck on my shoulder, some crease in my
collar. They were shifty and
uncertain.
“Bridger, go home. I’m gonna go use the restroom and get
something to drink.” He wrangled with his collar before continuing, “If you’re
here when I get back, I’m calling security.”
I stared after him as he stomped away
from me. I touched her name on the
placard outside the room and told the raised plastic letters goodbye and that I
loved her. It was all I could do.
