by Shelly Crane
I moved my arm slowly and shakily to the buttons that made my bed sit up. It hummed softly as it lifted me. I had no strength at all and it scared me a little to think about therapy and eating and…going to the bathroom.
I groaned a little in distress at that. I was going to be solely dependent on someone for who knew how long to help me while I got myself back together. I felt so undignified and I hadn't even started yet.
The door creaked as it swung open and Mason came in with two cups of coffee in his hands. He used his hip to close the door and looked like he was about to tip toe before looking up and seeing me sitting up. He looked startled, but relieved. "Well…hey there."
"Hey," I answered, my voice still so rough. I cleared it and he set the cups down. He poured me a glass of room temperature water and lifted it to my lips with a gentle smile. I held onto his wrists while he helped me and then licked my lips before trying to speak again. The rasp of my voice was embarrassing, but it was all I had. "Thanks…Mason. Or should I call you Mr. Wright?"
"I'm only a few years older than you, Emma," he teased. "Mason is my name, so call me that."
"How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-three, but enough about me. You're the star here." He grinned and took a big swig of his coffee cup. "So…ready to get to work?"
"Work?"
"Therapy. Aren't you ready to start walking again?"
I sighed. "How long will all that take?"
"It's different for everyone. You should be feeding yourself and brushing your own hair in just a couple weeks. You could be walking as soon as a month if we work hard."
"We?"
"Yes, we," he said through a smile. "I'll be here the whole way."
"Wait, what month is it?"
"It's February."
"So the accident was in August?"
"Yep. The first game of the season."
I swallowed. It was painful, but I couldn’t deny how alive I felt today. "So I missed Thanksgiving and Christmas." He nodded. "I'm sure that must've been hard on…those two." I ticked my chin toward the woman still asleep in the chair.
"It was hard, but they were here." He pointed to the windowsill.
There were five or six small wrapped boxes there with red ribbons and Santa-in-a-sleigh wrapping paper. I just stared at it. He set his cup aside and leaned his hand on the railing of my bed. I saw a glimpse of a tattoo peek out of the rolled-up sleeves of his button up. I looked up at him. He pulled his sleeve back down and put his fingers to his lips in a 'Shh' motion while he smiled. I found myself smiling, too.
Then I looked back to the presents. "I feel guilty," I whispered. "I don't even really know why, but I do."
"You shouldn't," he assured. "They don't blame you. They just missed you."
"What if I can't be who they want me to be?"
"Then they'll just have to learn to live with that."
I jerked my eyes to his. "You mean…I don't have to be the girl who does cheerleading and likes pink?"
He laughed in a little choke. "No, I don't think so. It's understandable that you'd be different. Besides, I don't really see you as the cheerleading type."
"You and me both."
He laughed again and ruffled his hair a little as he leaned up. "You're pretty funny, Emma."
"I wonder if I was always funny," I mused.
He looked at me closely. "It doesn't matter who you were or what you've done in the past. The only thing that matters is who you are right now."
I sat stunned before finally spouting, "Are we talking about me or you?"
His lips twitched with a smile. "So not only funny, but smart, too."
"I hope you're right," I sighed.
"I usually am," he teased and winked as he turned. I found myself smiling after him. He was such a nice guy. I felt no pressure from him and that was welcomed.
He went to the window and opened the blinds. He was whistling something. Some old song that I knew I must have known, but the pinpoint escaped me. The sun came in, warm and yellow. It felt so good on my skin that I found myself leaning my head back and soaking it in.
I heard someone coughing and opened my eyes to find the woman waking up and Mason smiling at her. "Mason," she crooned. "Oh, how are you?"
"I'm great." He handed her the extra cup he'd brought in. "I brought you the usual. Black as night with two sugars."
She smiled in gratitude and I watched. She hadn't noticed me yet. She was a gorgeous lady. Her cheekbones were high and her form slight. Her light blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail that showed a slim neck that I envied even in my state. I wondered if I had inherited that neck. I couldn't even remember what I looked like even from the mirror the other day. I remembered that I kept it and turned to find it right where I'd left it on the bedside table. I picked it up and slowly turned it over to reveal myself in the shiny oval.
She was there, all blond haired and thin. Me.
I gulped and turned my head side to side. I lifted my hair on one side to see my ears. They were rounded, no points at all. Diamond stud earrings lined the lobe. I counted six and balked at that. I then looked at my nose. It was short and cute, I guess. It fit my face, but my eyes were big. They fluttered with long lashes and the color was a dark brown. My lips were normal looking. My eyebrows looked cared for, no strays in sight. I had no blemishes either and no problems that I could see at all.
I looked up to find them both watching me patiently. "You've been here every day, haven't you." I didn't ask her as a question, because I just knew.
"Of course," she answered and smiled sheepishly.
"You…plucked my eyebrows."
She laughed and Mason smiled. "I did. I didn't want you to wake up one day and find yourself…"
"A hairy beast?" I supplied.
She giggled and fiddled with her necklace. It was very endearing. "Yes, exactly."
"Thank you," I said carefully.
She caught her breath and pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop the tears. "Of course, honey."
I licked my lips and looked down at the mirror in my lap. I lifted it again in my shaky grip and looked at my neck. It was slim and defined. I had inherited it from my mother. I set the mirror aside and almost groaned at the ache in my arm. I could barely hold a mirror up by myself. The next few months were not going to be fun, but I was ready.
I looked up to Mason's watchful eyes. "I'm ready."
He smiled the biggest smile I'd seen on his face so far. "Good. We'll get started this afternoon then. Let them get all their tests over with first."
"Tests?"
"To make sure that you're all right physically. It's just a formality. I have complete faith in you."
I nodded. He really did and it was a little weird. He seemed to be so at ease with me and my parents. He had seen me every day and them as well, apparently, but I didn't know any of them. I wanted to though and I planned to embrace this 'therapy'.
I found myself nodding at my internal decision. Then the door opened to reveal a new face in the form of a young woman. She smiled at me and then at Mason, then at me and back at Mason. "Mason," she acknowledged, sultry and intimate.
Ooohh. This must be Mrs. Mason.
He cleared his throat in an odd way. "Adeline."
She smiled back at me. "Emma, Emma, Emma. So you've decided to come back to the land of the living and see us, huh?" she said sweetly, like I was a toddler.
I nodded. I didn't know what else to do. She continued.
"So, I'm going to start you on your therapy right away."
I looked at Mason. "I thought you were my therapist?"
"I am," he confirmed. "Physical and occupational. Adeline is your mental health counselor." I felt the blood drain from my face and he rushed on. "It's just a formality, Emma. It doesn’t mean anything. Every person who has been through this has to be put the wringer."
"Yeah, of course," Adeline agreed too sweetly. When I looked up, her face had changed. She wasn't nearly as warm as bef
ore. In fact, it was as if someone had taken the hot knob and given it a quick wrench to cold. I wondered at the turnaround, but forged on.
"What kind of therapy are you talking about?"
"The kind where we make sure that everything is okay in that pretty little head of yours, sweetie." I frowned at that, but she kept going. "So, for today, work with Mason. I'll see you tomorrow for our first session."
With that, she smiled and exited the room.
I stared after her suddenly exhausted, just as the man who was supposed to be my father bounded in. "Is she…awake?" He smiled. "She is," he answered for himself.
"Hey," I supplied softly. That must have been more than he hoped for because his grin was wide.
"Well, hey. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm all right. How are you?"
He laughed and came to my bedside. "I'm pretty good now." He exhaled a bit, his shoulders visibly lifting, and I realized that I had been upsetting them. I hadn't been meaning to, but if they were my parents, and clearly they were, then they would be worried when their daughter stopped eating and became catatonic right after waking from a coma. I felt guilty again and looked down at my lap.
"Well," Mason started and came to pat my…dad… on the back, "I'm going to let you guys visit. Emma, we'll start this evening, all right?"
I nodded. He leaned down and didn't stop. Like he leaned down into my personal space. Our faces were only a couple inches apart as he fiddled with some imaginary wires that needed fixing by my arm. His eyes were absolutely hazel. No way to be mistaken for green or brown, they were mixed perfectly to be both. His hair was a light brown that he had pushed back to look professional. He whispered, "It's not your fault." Our eyes locked. "It's not."
"It kind of is," I whispered back.
"No," he whispered harder. "They just need time, Emma. So do you."
I stared at him as he leaned away and smiled at my parents. "I'll come back later for our session."
"All right, Mason, thank you," my mother said before coming to kiss my father's cheek. "Did you get your proposition done?"
"Finally, yes," he said relieved. "Mitch is coming home tonight."
"Oh, good," she crooned. "Felicia said she was flying in tomorrow. Perfect timing."
"Who are they?" I asked. They both looked at me as though I'd asked something really stupid. Or crazy. Or both.
"They're your brother and sister," he supplied and gulped. "They wanted to come sooner, but we told them to hold off. In fact, lots of people have been wanting to come see you."
I licked my lips. "Like who?"
"Your friends, our family, your…" He looked at the woman with a look of irritation, but I could tell it wasn't directed at her. "Never mind. Just lots of people who miss you."
"Mitch and…" I stumbled.
"Felicia," she supplied sadly. She looked as though she might cry. I said the names over and over in my mind to remember them the next time.
"Felicia," I finished. "Where are they?"
"College," the man said. "You're the baby of the family."
"And I'm a high school senior this year?"
"Yes…" she trailed off awkwardly. I guess I'd miss half the year by now. I couldn't technically call myself a senior anymore, could I?
"OK," I said and tried to absorb that. "I'm sorry." They seemed unsettled by my sudden apology, so I hurriedly said, "I didn't mean to worry you, I just needed a little space…in my head. I'm ready now, to start trying to get better."
"Honey," he approached gently, "we aren't trying to pressure you." He may not have been trying to, but I felt pressure all right. "We just want you to be…you again."
I decided to be honest. "I don't know if that will ever happen. Right now, my focus is walking and brushing my teeth. I want to focus on one thing at a time, so can we just focus on my physical recovery? Then I'll start trying to work on remembering."
They nodded like they were the children and I was the parent. I almost sighed, but held it in. They needed to adjust, just like me. Just like Mason had said.
"So, what's the deal with Mason? You seem to know him well."
"We brought you here a couple weeks after the accident. We wanted round-the-clock care and support, something the hospital couldn't offer. Mason was here from day one. He's been helping you ever since. He's been so great." She smiled affectionately. "I figured he'd get tired of us coming here every day, but he always greeted us warmly."
I nodded. "And the boss doctor guy?"
My dad's lips pursed. "He's not the easiest man to get along with, but this was the only facility that we could drive to every day and we didn't want to risk sending you further away."
I nodded again and licked my lips. I felt tired beyond belief, but wasn't it rude to go to sleep when they'd just gotten there, and all the grief I'd put them through this past week? My mom must've known, because before I knew what was going on, she was kissing my father goodbye and he was waving and telling me he'd be back later.
She on the other hand started her primping session.
With me.
She told me to lie down and relax, go to sleep, whatever, but she didn't let anyone bathe me but her this whole time. She had even shaved my legs for me every day and painted my toenails and fingernails, clipped my nails, and brushed out my hair. I didn't know whether to be extremely grateful, especially knowing that Mason had been touching those legs, or extremely grossed out. But she was my mom, so it shouldn't matter, right?
I did what she asked and laid my head to the pillow. To my awkward satisfaction she went to the bathroom, got what she needed, and began her ministrations. I actually fell asleep as she took the soapy cloth and ran it over my legs and feet. It was nice and soothing.
I didn't fight it when sleep knocked on the door. I just let it in.
Useless Fact Number Three
Mosquitoes smell with their feet.
I woke up to movement. I opened my eyes once more to find my bed being leaned down to lie flat. Mason smiled down at me. "Finally," he complained. "I was about to get the hose."
I squinted at him. "Are you joking?"
"I am totally joking." He grinned wider. "You're gonna stay funny for me, right? I'm all about the sarcasm."
"I'll try my hardest," I said as sarcastically as I could manage.
"Yes!" he said and pumped his fist. "Finally! Someone who can keep up with my witty repertoire."
"I've got six months' worth stock piled," I pointed to my head, "right here."
He laughed harder and then leaned down to pick my head up by my neck. "OK, seriously now, I'm going to remove the pillow," and he did so, "because I find it's best to do the exercises when you're flat on your back." He looked behind him and I noticed a man there for the first time. "This is Mr. Garner. He's the physical therapist I work under." He leaned in and whispered, "But honestly, I do all the work." I found myself smiling. "They came and did the blood test while you were sleeping, so we're ready to get started."
I looked up at him. In the movement of the air around me, I realized that I smelled different. I turned my head to sniff my shirt and found it clean with a hint of peppermint. I squinted. Did I even like peppermint? And I realized I had lipgloss on. Upon tasting it, I found it was cherry. I did like that, I could tell, because my tongue sneaked out to taste it again. I moved my gaze back to Mason.
"Are you done?" he teased.
I flushed. "Sorry. My mom gave me a…sponge bath, I guess."
"She does that every day before our session."
"She does?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "No better people than those two, let me tell you. They may be strangers to you, but I guarantee you, you have their unconditional love, no matter what."
"You're so…" I could think of nothing, so I stuck to sarcasm, "wise, Yoda."
He smirked. And I'd be lying if I said it didn't make my heart, which was just as much a stranger in my chest as anything else, beat a little faster.
"Mason," Mr. Garner sa
id, looking up from his clipboard, "I've got to finish all this paperwork for the audit. Are you fine here alone?"
"Sure. Of course."
"Great." Mr. Garner looked at me. He was in his thirties, and tall and lanky. His head was quite large, which led me to hope his brain was large, too, if he was deciding my fate. "I'm so, so sorry. It was nice to meet you, but honestly, you'll see way more of Mason than me anyway. I run the entire therapy department and Mason is the best I've got so, you're in good hands."
I tried not to gulp at that statement. "No worries. Nice to meet you."
"And you, Miss Walker. Mason."
"Mr. G," Mason regarded and nodded at him before looking back at me. "All right, you, let's get to it, shall we?"
"What do I have to do?"
"At this point in the game?" He shrugged and lifted my foot in his hands. "Nothing. Little by little we'll start to add some strength exercises, but for now, I just want you to get a feel for your muscles."
He moved my foot up and down, side to side, then bent my knee in and out. At first, I watched in fascination, waiting for some miracle to burst through my skin and make me whole again. But when he switched legs, I knew that wasn't going to happen. So I lay back and was caught by something on the ceiling. "What's that?"
He glanced up to where I was looking. "Oh, that's your dragonflies. Your dad and I put those up."
"Why?"
"They were in your bedroom, so he said. He told me you loved them and if you woke up in the middle of the night, he wanted you to feel safe, like you were at home and it had all just been a bad dream."
I stared up at the dragonflies that I hadn't seen before. They glowed, I could tell. They had little sparkles on their wings. Me, a nineteen-year old girl, had dragonfly stickers on her ceiling? And my father — the man I didn't even know — had been so thoughtful and insightful to bring those up here for me…so I'd think it had all been a bad dream if I woke up in the middle of the night from my coma.
I felt the first tear slide down the side of my face and into my hairline. I didn't close my eyes, though. I just stared at the dragonflies; beautiful and silly, lovely, pointless and thoughtful.
