by Shelly Crane
I realized Mason had stopped moving my legs at some point. He watched my face and when I looked at him, he didn't smile. I looked back at the dragonflies and took a deep breath. "I'm scared. What if I don't ever remember? What if the girl he brought dragonflies to doesn't exist anymore?"
I heard his sympathetic sigh. He wiped a tear away with his finger before leaning down and taking a hard seat into the chair next to my bed. "Emma…I know you don't feel like it right now, but you're so lucky. Your parents love the crap outta you."
I chuckled and turned to find him smirking once more. "I can see that."
"Don't worry about tomorrow so much."
"Ok, Mr. Miyagi, what's next?"
He grinned. "Well, smarty pants. Wax on, wax off." He lifted my arm and moved it up and down, side to side, and around, bending it at the elbow. I just closed my eyes and let him finish everything he needed to do. I played rag doll very well apparently.
When he said he was done, he went to get my parents, who were waiting in the waiting room. I felt worse. Gah, it was like they never went home.
They came in and he was in the process of telling them all about my schedule for doing more progressive treatment when the door to my room opened. I looked over to find a guy there. He smiled at me so sweetly and looked so relieved— I thought for sure this must be my brother, Mitchell.
So I said so. "Mitchell?" Look at me trying to be quick and smart. But no, it wasn't Mitchell.
"No," he said and looked at my parents with anger. "You didn't even tell her I was coming by today?"
"I hadn't had the chance yet," my father argued. "Besides, I already told you that I didn’t think it was a good idea."
"Bullsh-" he stopped and sighed. "Nonsense, Mr. Walker." He smiled at me and I glanced at the flowers in his hands. "I know you hate flowers, but..." He came to the bedside and leaned in…
I jerked my face to the side to avoid his lips. I felt my brow bunch in confusion, but he was even more confused. "It's true?"
"What is?" I asked and then huffed a little. "Will you please back up a bit?"
He leaned back, hurt all over his face. "You really don't remember me?"
"I don't remember anyone," I countered. "It might help if you told me who you were."
He set the flowers on the bed and crossed his arms in a pouty motion. "I'm Andrew. You used to call me Andy, everybody does. I'm your… I was your boyfriend."
I looked at his face. He was thick in the way that football players and wrestlers were. In fact, he was even wearing a letter jacket. His hair was blonder than mine and his brown eyes begged me to remember him. I got nothing.
"My boyfriend," I tested the words and swallowed that down. "Look, I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.
"Really, Emma?" he asked, almost angrily. "You don't remember me? You don't remember anything about us or your life or your friends? You don't...remember what happened the night of your accident?" I felt my eyebrows rise as he just waited. "Really?"
"Really," Mason answered. He had a scowl on his face and I wondered about it. "What part was it that you didn't get?"
"And who are you?"
"Her therapist."
"So you're not her doctor," Andrew…Andy said in a growly way. "So why don't you just get out of here and let me have some catch-up time with my girl."
"No," I found myself saying. The thought of them all leaving me alone with this guy that I didn't know was the most terrifying thing since I'd woken up.
"What do you mean 'no'?" He sulked and glared at me. "You really don't remember anything?" he asked again and seemed to be holding his breath. "Have your parents been talking to you about me?"
"What? No."
"Really?" he drawled in disbelief. "Then why are you being so cold to me, huh? You're glaring ice cubes."
"I don't know who you are!" I said loudly. "I don't remember anything!"
"I just didn't believe it," he mused and shook his head like he was disappointed. It was starting to be a running theme with the men in this room. "How could you forget everything that was us?"
Dad scoffed angrily. "You forgot pretty fast yourself, pal."
The uneasy silence that followed was telling. "What?" I questioned.
"I…" Andrew started. "I didn't think you were gonna wake up."
"What does that mean?"
"I started seeing someone else," he confessed, but continued quickly. Too quickly. "But I'm here now. I broke up with her as soon as I heard the news. On the TV, I might add, not from your parents, who should have called me. It's over now. We can pick up right where we left off," he said sweetly.
He acted like he was handing me a pretty little package instead of a heaping mess of sloppy seconds. I spoke soft and slow. "Look, like I said, I don't even remember you. I'm taking things slow, OK?"
"I understand, babykins."
I grimaced. "Babykins?" I muttered.
"That's your nickname, babe. I always called you that, especially when you..." The smile he tacked onto the little nickname had me wishing I'd never asked.
I threw up in my mouth a little bit and decided to switch gears. "Right now, I just want to focus on getting better. I can't worry about trying to remember everyone."
I thought he'd be deflated, but instead he grinned in challenge. "Oh, you'll remember me."
My dad leaned forward to…what? I didn't know, but Mason stopped him with a strong hand to his chest and nodded his head toward the door.
"I think visiting hours are just about done. Why don't you go on home and give them a few minutes." It wasn't a request.
"Listen, pal-"
"Mason will do. Or therapist if you need to get fancy."
I wanted to laugh, but didn't.
"Whatever, glorified orderly. I can see myself out, thanks."
"You do that," Mason said carefully, but hard and demanding.
Andrew looked back at me. "I'll be back tomorrow, babe, OK?" He smiled and bit the side of his lip as he leaned in to touch my chin. "I really missed you."
I didn't know what to say. His touch was warm and he looked so happy to see me. I hated to make him feel badly like I had been doing to my parents, so I just smiled a little. "OK."
"OK. Awesome," he whispered and grinned. He walked backward and pointed. "Tomorrow."
I nodded and when he shut the door, I immediately turned to the woman who was supposed to be my mother. "Was that really my boyfriend?"
Her eyebrows lifted. "He was," she answered, "though we...never really liked him." She smiled wryly. "You have been a cheerleader since you were seven years old, and Andy has been right there with you in football. You've been together since…" she waved her hand in the air, "I can't even remember how far back. He's just not the most honest guy. He's not the guy I would have picked for my daughter, but we tried to give you space and let you choose and make your own decisions."
I had a thought. "Am I… Was I shallow?"
"Shallow?" Rhett asked. "No, honey. You were just…preoccupied, as are all teenagers."
"If that guy has been my boyfriend for as long as you say…and I let him call me babykins…" Rhett and Isabella laughed, but Mason and I didn't. To me, it was anything but funny. "I just feel like… I don't know," I sighed in frustration. I did know one thing though. "Can I have a tutor?"
They both blinked. "Well…"
"I don't want to keep falling further behind," I explained. "If I'm going to be stuck here for a while, at least I can be productive while I'm doing it."
Rhett swallowed and stuck his hands into his grey suit jacket pockets. "You want to do school? You've always done anything and everything to get out of it. Puppy-dog eyes, lying about being sick, begging…literal begging."
I wanted to sigh. The discrepancies kept piling up against me. "I'd like to still graduate this year if we can find a way to make that happen," I amended. "I know it's a long shot, but I'd really rather not have to add another year of school on if it can be avoided."
Isabella
nodded, but looked at me in disbelief.
Everyone said their goodbyes and I lay there looking at those dragonflies as they glowed softly in the dark. My chest ached with all the pressure that I felt. My life piled onto me and my breaths were almost nonexistent. I needed to find the balance. I had to.
"It's all about the balance, Emma," Adeline was saying. I hadn't seen anyone that morning. Mason had not been by, nor my parents, which was a first for me to be left to my own devices all day. But I did find a book left beside my bed. It was a worn and beaten book that had seen better days. I spent all morning pouring over it, not even knowing who'd left it there. It was a book of useless facts; things that were true, but you would never actually have an opportunity where you would benefit from knowing it. I loved it immediately. Completely useless information that couldn't be turned against you. You weren't tested on it, and it didn't make you look smarter for knowing it or not knowing it. And they were funny. I didn't know if I liked to read or not, but I was in deep with this book.
I had reluctantly set it aside, only a couple of pages in, when Adeline, the mental health therapist, paid me a visit as she promised. She started her session, overbearingly standing at the bedside. She never stopped moving her pen, and her eyes never really focused on me, and now she was coaching me on the importance of balance.
"I want balance," I insisted. "I just don't know how to do that, I guess."
"Well, I think you should whole-heartedly embrace the old you."
I jolted. "What?"
That had been the last thing I would have expected.
"Yes," she said shrilly. "Embrace it! Your parents, your friends, your bedroom, all of it. Even if it feels strange, you should just go with it. I think this is the best course of action to see about getting some of your memories back."
"Even my boyfriend?"
She smiled. "Especially him. See, he's going to be an emotional connection that's not like anyone else's. Lots of times, the ones that we love are the ones who can bring us back, so to speak."
"But what if I didn't love him?" I couldn't imagine it.
"Just try," she said wryly. "Just try to be the girl that everyone wants you to be."
I gulped at the advice. That was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, but I still found myself nodding. She said she was finished for the day and that she'd see me in a few days for another session.
I lifted the book from the table and turned to the page I had stuck a napkin in to mark my place. A dragonfly beats its wings at thirty beats per second. I glanced up to look at my white dragonflies.
Unfathomable.
Useless Fact Number Four
Only one third of the people that can twitch their ears
can do it one at a time.
"Either that book is evil or the ceiling is." I turned to look at Mason at the door. He was in grey sweatpants and a long-sleeve t-shirt today.
"No, just…nothing. You didn't come by this morning," I heard myself say. I held in my blush by some miracle. My mouth just seemed to say these things. Why was he obligated to come and see me? Because his eyes were hazel enough to make me forget that I was a freak show, and he never made me feel like the girl who woke up from the coma?
He looked a little taken aback. Great. Add insult to injury. "Uh…I didn't think you'd even notice. Sorry, I had a couple of other patients this morning."
"No, it's fine." I stuttered on. "I…don't know why I said that. I've just seen you every day….so..."
The smile that he fought was an elated one. Why did he seem so happy about that? I bit my lip hard so as not to smile back. "Well…I'll remember that. Let's get started. Today I want to do some exercises with you."
"Is that why you're in sweats?"
He laughed and motioned to his pants. "You don’t like my sweats?"
"They're fine," I said softly. I was having a hard time looking him in the eye today. I felt strange after the talk with Adeline. She wanted me to be the girl I used to be, the one with a boyfriend. I licked my lips nervously. I didn't even know how to act anymore. When I looked up, he was watching me curiously and silently. "So how many tattoos do you have?"
He smiled wryly at the subject change. "More than I should to keep this job. I, uh…do some tattooing on the side."
I felt my eyebrows rise. "You're a therapist slash tattoo artist?"
He chuckled in a hesitant way. "Yeah. Long story."
I wondered—did I have any tattoos that I didn't know about? I had twelve earring holes that I had found. Who knew what I'd done to myself in my teenage rebellion.
"So," he clapped and smiled, "you can sit up today. We're just going to work on your arms, all right?"
I nodded and waited for instruction. I watched as he went to the table, taking his MP3 player from his pocket. He set it up with a little square speaker and soon, Keep Your Head Up by Andy Grammer started playing through the room.
I knew who that was! I smiled hugely. He turned to find me that way and stopped with a slow smile. "What's that for?"
"Nothing," I told him and tried to rein in my grin. "It's just...knowing that song made me suddenly giddy."
"Understandable. It's funny how the mind chooses what it wants to remember." He let the rail down on my bed and grinned at me as he bobbed his head to the music. "Ready, little puppet?" I nodded and let him take my right arm. "All right, take this first." He put a little rubber ball in my hand. "Squeeze that in your palm in a slow, but steady rhythm. Follow the beat."
I tried to do what he said. Not only could I barely squeeze the ball in my hand, but it actually hurt to try. I hissed and gave him a look. "I know," he said sympathetically. "This part sucks. In fact, the next few weeks are going to suck, but if you want to get back to normal, you've got to push through this part. I do things a little unconventionally, but if you trust me, we'll get you back to it in no time."
I squeezed harder and pretended that the pain was what I wanted.
Next, we worked on my arms. He had me lift them straight out in front of me and hold them there. He helped me lift my arms above my head and pass the ball back and forth between my hands. Then he had me push my palm against his. That hurt worse than anything else we'd done.
I sucked air through my teeth and closed my eyes, but didn't stop pushing back. First, we were palm to palm, and then he changed it to lacing our fingers and holding our arms out straight, but bent at the elbow. He gripped my other shoulder to steady me as I pushed. I still had my eyes squeezed shut. When my arm stopped straining and began to shake and wobble, I stopped pressing and rested, surprised by how labored my breaths were.
With my hand still in his, I opened my eyes and tried to catch my breath, but lost it again to find him so close to me. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, his grip on my arm the same as before. I couldn't look away. The way he watched me was so protective; I didn't really understand it.
I licked my lips nervously and when his eyes watched the movement, I knew something was different than it had been before, but when his eyes met mine once more, I saw something else.
Regret.
He slowly pulled back and swallowed loudly, removing his fingers slowly from mine. "Tomorrow, we'll focus on the legs. We'll see how you're doing with that and where we need to work most."
I nodded and looked at my lap. I felt so self-conscious. Would the old me have jumped in his lap and kissed him? Or slapped him because I apparently…had a boyfriend? I had no idea how to react. If I were being honest, Mason was on some pedestal that I never meant to put him on.
"Emma?" he whispered. When I didn't answer, I felt his fingers under my chin, lifting my head to force me to look at him. I stared silently. "Emma…you are a really great girl, but I…"
Girl…
I sighed and closed my eyes for a pause. I knew what else was coming, so I forged on to stop him. "I understand."
"Do you?" he asked softly, not even a hint of snide.
I nodded. "I'm too young, and I come with lots of baggage,
right? I get it."
He sat back, taking his hands with him. "That's not what I meant-"
"Emma?" I heard from the door. Mason growled under his breath and stood. Andrew, oblivious to Mason, was all smiles and came forward. He bent and kissed my cheek before I even knew what was happening. "Hey, babykins."
"Hey," I scowled and sighed my words softly.
"Where are your parents?"
"I don't know actually. They haven't been here all day."
Adeline poked her head in the door. "Mason, sweetie, can I see you for a minute?" She smiled intimately.
I couldn't help the glance I threw at him. He and Adeline were involved. He had been about to tell me that I was a stupid kid and even more stupid for looking at him like I had a smidge of a chance with him. I just woke up from a coma! I shook my head at myself and marveled at my naïveté.
"They're getting your sister from the airport," Mason supplied and grabbed his MP3 player. He looked back at me and I could see irritation there. I wondered if it was directed at me. "They'll be here any minute," he said and gave Andrew a look, but he spoke to me. "Are you OK in here alone with him?"
"Hey!" Andrew complained.
I just nodded. He sighed and went out to Adeline, who waited and watched from the door. I wondered if the old me would be as embarrassed as I was right then.
As soon as the door was closed, Andrew was a completely different person. He grinned and leaned down to kiss my lips. I was so startled that I didn't stop him. His lips were soft, too soft, and he smelled like the cologne he was wearing. I pushed him back a little. Oh, no...the first kiss I could remember, stolen. "Oh, come on, babe. No one's in here to see."
"I don't-"
"You can cut the act, now," he said through a smirk. "It's just me."
"What act?"
"You told your parents you couldn’t remember anything so you didn't have to go to school? Genius, babe! Genius!"
"Andrew," I said slowly. "I'm not acting. I don't remember anything."
"How can that be?" He crossed his arms and looked down at me like I was a sullen child. "Babe, look. I know you've got the whole gimmick going, but this is ridiculous. You can trust me. Unless you're angry at me for something. Or scared."
