Blink Once

by Cylin Busby

  By midmorning, I felt a little bit more normal. The dream was still haunting me, but at least it wasn’t a creepy one, and at least I didn’t really have midterms today. I was wondering about Mike, and if he had ever come by to visit me, when Olivia rolled into the room with her IV stand.

  “Hello, Prince Charming,” she said. “Good night last night, huh? I didn’t hear anything from over here, so I’m guessing you slept like a baby.”

  I looked at her hands and was bummed to see that she didn’t have the whiteboard with her. How was I going to talk to her without it? “Don’t look so sad, I know what you’re looking for.” She opened the drawer by my bed and took out the board. “Wanna chat?” she joked.

  She reached down to where her own IV went into her arm. It was attached to a piece of plastic that went under her skin and was there permanently. I’d heard the nurses call it a shunt. She capped the line and pulled it out of the needle, leaving the shunt in place, but cutting off the flow. Just like that, she wasn’t attached to her pole anymore. “Liquid nutrition has lots of calories. A lady has to watch her figure, you know.” She smiled and I noticed she had put on some lip gloss or something. Was that for me?

  “Here we go.” She undid the strap on my right wrist and put the pen into my hand. I squeezed hard and set my mind to work. I had just one question for her. She held the board close to me and I started writing. After a few lines, she took the board away. “H, and a … what is this letter? Did you write Hi again?”

  I blinked no and she looked the board more closely. “Is this someone’s name?”

  I blinked no and motioned with my hand that I wanted to write more. “Oh, is it how?”

  I blinked yes. “Okay.” She wiped the board and put it back by my hand. This word was longer, but didn’t take me as long to write because I was getting the hang of this.

  “Love?” Olivia asked and raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. Without looking at me, she got it. “How long,” she said. “A question, how long—?”

  I blinked yes.

  “How long have we been here. Gosh, I don’t know.” She looked up at the ceiling like she was thinking hard. “A year or so, I guess.”

  No, no, no.

  I dropped the pen on the floor and felt vomit roll up my throat.

  That wasn’t possible. My heart monitor started to go beep quickly.

  “Okay, oh my God, calm down, don’t have a heart attack! I was kidding.” Olivia laughed, showing her little dark-white teeth. “I’ve been here forever. You? It’s been like a month, maybe. Or like three weeks. Not long. God, I thought you would appreciate a little joke! I guess you really didn’t know, huh?”

  I could tell she felt bad, but I was also starting to realize that Olivia had a real dark streak. She could be super-sweet, but there was a hard side to her that reminded me of the girls at school I really couldn’t stand, the cheerleaders and their friends. “The Mean Girls,” Allie called them.

  “I saw that your girlfriend was here yesterday. Pretty girl.” So that’s what this was about. That’s why she didn’t come to see me yesterday after Allie left.

  Was Olivia jealous?

  “Did you guys go out a long time?”

  I blinked yes, realizing that she was putting our relationship in the past tense, probably because she had heard the whole conversation from her room. It pissed me off to think that she was sitting over there listening to Allie talk to me. It wasn’t any of her business.

  “Well, you should know, when she was checking in yesterday, the nurse asked her if she was your girlfriend and you know what she said? That you were friends. She said, ‘Well, we’re friends, we go to the same school.’ Sorry, but she seems kind of like a bitch to me. You’re better off without her.”

  When Olivia tried to put the pen back into my hand, I wouldn’t take it, instead letting it drop to the floor.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re mad,” Olivia scolded. She tried again with the pen, pushing my fingers closed around it, but I wouldn’t play along. “Look, I’m not the one who broke up with you. I’m just trying to help you.”

  When she took her hand off mine, I let the pen drop to the floor again. I wasn’t about to cooperate.

  “Fine.” She stood in a huff and shoved the board into the drawer, slamming it shut. “Call me when you get your period, okay?” She stormed out, sliding the wall shut between our rooms with a dramatic slam.

  A second later, I heard it slide open again, and her footsteps around my bed. “I forgot this stupid thing.” She snatched her IV pole and tried to make another dramatic exit but the wheels caught on the side of my bed. “Dang it!” she stopped. “This is dumb. Let’s not be mad, okay? You’re the only person I can talk to here. I don’t want you to hate me.” She fiddled with her IV tubing and reattached the shunt. She was being too rough in her anger. I saw her face flinch in pain as she pushed the tubes together. “Ouch! This sucks. This whole place sucks. I’m sorry that I joked around like that, and I’m sorry about your girlfriend. I guess I’ve sort of forgotten how to be friends with someone, I’ve been in here so long.” I didn’t move, didn’t blink.

  “Okay? See you tomorrow?” She stood defiantly in front of me, waiting for an answer. She was looking me right in the eye, not at her feet, not at the window. At me. Really looking at me. That was better than most of the other folks who came to see me in this state. Unlike Allie, Olivia only knew me like this, she didn’t expect me to be anything else. And if she was willing to be friends, I wasn’t really in a position to be choosy.

  Reluctantly I blinked yes. Olivia gave me a weak smile, then she went back to her room, closing the door softly behind her.

  Chapter 6

  This time it’s snowing all around us. I’m watching them struggle on the ground. She’s pushing him. STOP IT PLEASE. I want to help her, but I can’t. I turn to run, but I can’t move, my legs are tied together. I see him pull his fist back to punch her. I know I should stop him, but I don’t. I can’t. I can’t move. I watch and feel so sick. The thud of his fist on her face, over and over. I’m throwing up, I feel it coming up my throat. “Don’t you scratch me!” he says, punching her again. She’s not screaming now. She’s quiet. He stands, looks at her, kicks her body. She doesn’t move. He spits, then turns to see me standing there. I’m right next to him. I see his face. He looks at me like he doesn’t care I’m seeing him, seeing what he has done. “Don’t worry about her,” he says. “She’s a waste of time.” He’s right in my face now; I can see a tattoo on his hand as he brings it up. I feel his bloody fingers touching my cheek. Oh God no.

  When I woke up, the bright winter sun was pouring into the room. I was still having the dream, but I guess not having heart palpitations that would send a nurse into my room thanks to the heavy-duty bedtime drugs. As I lay there, something came to me. Why was I having this dream, the same dream, over and over again? I had never had dreams like this before I was in the hospital—I’d never even had the same dream twice. Now I couldn’t stop having this dream, about this guy. It just didn’t make sense. It must have something to do with being here, with the hospital or this room, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  I drifted back to sleep and when I awoke, the day was half-gone. I remembered the dream, a little bit, and remembered that I had a theory about it, but what was it? I was trying to sort it out, because when I had woken up earlier, it all made sense somehow, but now that I was really awake, it didn’t come together again like it had before.

  “It’s Thursday!” I heard from the accordion wall. I could hear it sliding open. “Tomorrow’s Friday, you know,” Olivia said, waltzing into my room like yesterday had never happened. “Remember? Your mom is bringing an expert doctor guy to examine you. I’m curious to hear what he’s gonna say.”

  I felt myself soften to her. Besides, it wasn’t like I could kick her out.

  “You excited? Your mom has been building this up since you got here. I heard her tell you one night that your parents
paid for this guy to fly into town, so he’s a big deal.” Olivia undid her IV tube from her shunt again and pushed the pole to the side of the room. She curled up on the other bed.

  “You’re lucky to have parents who care so much about you, you know that, right? My mom is here about once a week, if I’m lucky. And if she’s off with one of her new boyfriends, it can be more like two weeks. Last time she showed up, I wouldn’t even look at her.” She stopped for a second. “Your mom is here every day, and if she hears that you had a bad night, she’s here before she goes to work, too. So I guess you had some bad dreams last night, huh?”

  I blinked yes. Then no.

  “You did have one or not?” she asked me, sitting up on the bed.

  I blinked yes.

  “Really? So I wanted to ask you, but I think I already know the answer. Are these dreams about your accident, the bike accident?”

  I blinked no, then yes. There was one dream like that, I think, but mostly they were about the street, the guy with the bloody knuckles, the girl he was hurting. I could remember having it at least twice, but it seemed so familiar to me, I think I had it a few more times than that. When I’m walking on that street, I know I’ve been there before, seen what happens before.

  “So you’re having dreams—nightmares—about something else?”

  I blinked yes.

  Olivia hopped off the bed and pulled open the drawer, grabbing the whiteboard. “I assume we’re talking again?” She smiled.

  When I blinked yes, she quickly undid the strap on my right arm and slid the pen into my hand. “We don’t have a ton of time before the next check.”

  She held the board close enough for me to write on, but I paused. How could I get this across in as few words as possible? I started with a B and moved on from there. It took about a minute. When Olivia looked at the board, she studied it carefully. I had never had neat handwriting, but trying to write when you’re lying down, strapped in, and using just one slightly paralyzed hand is not the way to good penmanship.

  “Bad?” she finally said. “As in, you’re having bad dreams?” She looked puzzled.

  I blinked no. “More?” She wiped the board and put it back by my hand. This time I wrote just one word.

  “Man. You’re having dreams about a bad man?” I blinked yes and motioned for the board. I wrote room this time.

  “You’re having bad dreams, about a bad man … in this room?” Olivia looked terrified. “You mean, like a ghost—in here? Oh my God, I knew it! I knew this room was haunted!”

  I blinked no quickly. “What do you mean, I didn’t get it right?” She put the board back by my hand, but I was at a loss. The dreams weren’t happening in the room, but I knew the room or the hospital was somehow connected to the dreams. Hospital was too long a word, it would take forever to write. Instead I wrote not in. It took me a minute and I was feeling totally exhausted when I got done, I dropped the pen.

  Olivia picked it up without saying a word and looked at the board.

  “Not in. Not in … here? Not in the room.” I blinked yes.

  “Why did you write room then? I don’t get it. Bad, man, room, not in. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re saying.” She sounded a little exasperated with me. She glanced at the clock and quickly slid the board into the drawer. “Oh crap. To be continued,” she said, grabbing her IV pole. As she went around my bed, she quickly kissed my cheek. “I’m glad we’re friends again,” she whispered, sliding the door shut.

  About thirty seconds after she left, Nurse Norris walked in. Olivia knew the timing of the nursing checks down to the minute.

  “Good evening, sir,” Nurse Norris said, and smiled. “Now, since your mom was here this morning, she is not going to make it back over tonight, but she wanted me to remind you that you’ve got a doctor coming tomorrow. Both your parents are gonna be here.” She looked into my face and then shined her flashlight in my eyes. “You heard me?” she asked, and I blinked yes. “I know you did,” she said softly. “Okay then, let’s give you a little spin so you look good for the doctor tomorrow. We don’t want you all full of fluid, do we?”

  She pulled the strap over my forehead, something I was really starting to hate, and then rotated the bed so that I was facing the window. The sun was just setting and the sky was a salmon pink, the puffy clouds like cotton candy. It looked so cool, I caught myself wishing I could text Allie and tell her to look outside. My chest clenched up at the thought of her, and at the thought of using a phone again to text anyone. Where was my phone anyhow? Who would I call if I could hold it? Who were my friends now? I was praying this doctor tomorrow was going to have some good news for me.

  “Would you look at that sunset?” Nurse Norris sighed deeply. “I’m always thinking about God when I see something like that. It’s just too beautiful to be an accident.” She clicked the bed into place and noticed again that my arm strap was undone—Olivia had completely forgotten to redo it this time. “Your mom … got to talk to her about this,” she murmured as she redid the strap and secured my arm. “Well, I’ll be right back with your night-night cocktail, handsome.”

  She left the room and I stared at the sunset for a long time. She was right, it was too beautiful to be an accident. Especially tonight. Maybe this meant I wouldn’t have the nightmare. Maybe it meant that the doctor tomorrow was going to tell me something encouraging. I could still feel the place on my cheek where Olivia had kissed me. It felt good. I stared hard at the pink sky and recited the Lord’s Prayer in my head.

  Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 7

  When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see the sun pouring into the room. It was a new day. It was Friday. I hadn’t had the dream, I hadn’t had any dreams at all. The clock on the wall read 10:25. I hadn’t slept the whole day away in a fog. This was all good, things were looking up. I waited to see who was going to come in, what time my appointment was. When did Mom say? I couldn’t remember, or maybe she hadn’t told me.

  The day nurse came in, the one who wasn’t Norris and also wasn’t nice. Not that she was mean, but she didn’t ever talk to me, or anyone. Just did her job and left. I made eye contact with her a few times, but she always looked away. She checked my chart, adjusted some tubes, pressed a few buttons on the ventilator, and walked out. Why would someone who hates people so much go into nursing anyhow?

  By the time the clock read 11:30 a.m., my eyelids were getting pretty heavy just listening to the rhythmic sound of the respirator pumping in and out. No visit from Olivia, no Mom, no Dad, no doctor. It was Friday, right? What if it was Saturday already and I just didn’t know it? I drifted off worrying and awoke with a start, feeling like I was falling backward down a staircase. I opened my eyes, suddenly terrified—something was wrong. I wasn’t in my bed. I was on my back, staring at something white and plastic right over my head. My heart started racing. Was I dead? I could see that there was light down by my feet, like I was inside a big tube. Must be an X-ray or something. Mom’s voice was talking to me through a speaker by my head. “West, you’re okay, we’re just doing an MRI for the doctor. You’ll be out of there soon, okay? They’re almost done.” Then Dad’s voice, quietly: “Jesus, Cath, he can’t even hear you; leave it alone, would you?”

  “You don’t know that—how would you like to wake up in there, not knowing where the hell you are?”

  Divorced five years and still at it.

  “West, they are almost done, then you’ll be back in your room. Just hang tight,” Mom went on.

  “It’s going to get a little loud again, so I’m going to switch this off,” I heard someone say. Something clicked and the speaker she was talking over cut out. Then came a sound hammering all around me, a constant pounding and clicking around the tube I was in. It wasn’t hurting me, and I couldn’t feel it, but it sounded like someone was beating a hammer right over my head. Bang, bang, bang, bang. No one could sleep through that.

  The banging stopped
for a minute, then started up again in a different place, over to the right of me. Then they stopped again, and started on the left.

  “How ya doing in there?” I heard a male voice say, then some mumbling. The speaker clicked off again. Suddenly the bed I was on jerked a little and started to move forward, bringing me out of the tube. When I looked up, there were two guys standing over me, both in uniforms. Maybe they were male nurses.

  “On my count,” one of them said. “One, two, and up.” They lifted me by a sheet and put me back onto my own bed but left the wrist and arm straps undone. They moved the respirator and IV tubes from outside the MRI machine back over to the poles on my bed.

  “He’s first floor, room 201,” one of the guys said as the other one wheeled me out into the hallway. There was Mom and Dad and another guy in a suit, maybe the doctor Mom told me about. He looked older, with gray hair.

  “As soon as we can get those other test results,” he was saying, “we’ll know more, but from what I’ve seen, I suspect that he has a similar case to the one I described to you over the phone.” All of them were walking behind me as the two nurses wheeled my bed back down the hall. I couldn’t remember ever being outside of my room before. The nurses’ station on my right, then other rooms, some with open doors, some closed.

  We stopped at the first door past the nurses’ station and went in through the wide doorway. My bed was pushed against the wall, headfirst like it usually was, and the nurse put his foot on something down by the wheels, locking it into place. “Home sweet home, buddy,” he said, and attached a chart back to the foot of the bed as my parents walked in behind him. The guy kind of reminded me of Mike—bright-red hair, superwhite skin. Except he kept his hair short, not shaggy like Mike. “The nurse will be in to make sure he’s settled,” he said as he left. I guess he wasn’t a nurse, but an orderly.