“Hey pal, wrong way, the bed’s back here,” the orderly spoke again more forcefully. Strong arms turned him inexorably away from Sarah’s bed.
“Please,” he choked out. “Let me see her first. I need to know she’s all right.”
The orderly deftly maneuvered Steve back to the edge of the third bed. “Just take it easy, then. That girl’s going to be fine. The doctor just had to set her shoulder -dislocated it skateboarding, second time this year!” She screamed when the doctor set it, but he just gave her a sedative. She’s sleeping now.” The orderly chatted in an easygoing cheerful manner.
Steve frowned. Skateboarding? He had it wrong. “Not skateboarding,” he corrected the man. “We were in a wreck.”
The orderly gave him a strange look, but he appeared to decide to humor him. “A wreck, huh? Well, if that’s true, you know you both need to rest. You smacked your head pretty hard, and trying to go visiting just now is not helping you any. You lie back down and let us take care of your friend.”
Steve’s wobbling knees collapsed under the orderly’s determined pressure on his shoulders. The man guided his head gently back to the mattress. “Now just stay here and let us do the worrying, okay?” He checked the IV needle and the beeping machine, to make sure the needle was still in place and the monitor was on the proper settings.
Steve tried to lift his head to peer back toward Sarah’s bed, but the pain once again blurred his vision. He took a deep breath and licked his dry lips. “You sure she’s okay?” Steve queried fretfully. “I couldn’t get her to wake up. I tried, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn't answer me.”
“She’s sleeping. That’s all I know.”
“But she will get better; she will wake up?” Steve insisted, trying to hold onto the orderly.
The orderly sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, when the sedative wears off, she will wake up.”
“I was going to marry her,” Steve tried to explain. “I was going to propose tonight.” One more time he tried to peer across the room to Sarah’s bed. He blinked. It was moving! They were moving Sarah! Steve felt panic welling up inside of him.
“Wait!” He called at the receding figures. “Where are you taking her?”
The orderly had reached the end of his patience. “Mr. Williams, lay back down or I will have to put you in restraints.” All pretense of cheerfulness had disappeared.
But Steve became even more agitated, certain that if he let her out of his sight he would never see her again. “Sarah! Sarah!” He struggled uselessly against the orderly’s arms. “Make her wake up!” He pleaded.
A girl appeared at the door, and hurried to where Steve struggled with the orderly.
“Steve? Steve, it’s me, Deborah. Calm down, Steve.” She placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Talk to me! I’m sure we can fix it, just lie still before you do more damage!”
The voice was familiar and soothing, but the face was as strange as it was familiar, older in some way. He frowned. How could that be? Yet she was the only familiar face in this room of strangers, so he seized upon the tenuous thread of reality.
“Deborah? Help me! They’re taking Sarah away and they won’t let me see her! Please stop them. I have to see her, please help me! Please!” The last plea was a moan of despair.
Deborah sucked in her breath as she listened to Steve and looked around the room in confusion. Sarah? What was going on? But she squeezed his arm, and attempted a reassuring smile.
"It’s okay, Steve. You’re too hurt to move. I’ll go check on her and take you to her room. Just don’t move any more!”
Steve tensed for a moment, as if to make another attempt to rise from the bed, but he was nearly exhausted from struggling with the orderly. At last, he nodded wearily and lay still on the bed.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” she reassured him again. She pulled the curtain around the bed, and followed the orderly into the hall. “What brought that on?” She asked him in consternation.
The orderly was only too pleased to fill her in. He told about the girl with the dislocated shoulder, and how she had cried out when the doctor had set it. “The next thing we know, your friend is out of bed and trying to reach her. Started calling her ‘Sarah’, and even said he was going to ask her to marry him,” the orderly recounted with an amused shake of his head.
Deborah’s eyes widened. She hadn’t’ known that part of the story. “Marry? Who was the girl, and where is she now?” She asked, looking around the room.
The orderly laughed. “Her name is Brittney and they just took her to her room. I don’t think she’s out of junior high yet.”
Deborah smiled sadly. “He was in a wreck a few years ago,” she explained. “He lost his girlfriend. He must be reliving that night.”
“Rotten luck,” the orderly acknowledged, a little more sympathetically. “But someone needs to set him straight and quick. I was about to put restraints on him when you walked in.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” she said sincerely. Then she looked down the hall to the bank of elevators, and waved at a man just getting out of a car.
“Here’s Steve’s friend. He’s calmed down enough now that I think he will listen to Pete.”
The orderly looked at the approaching man dubiously. “Well, I will leave you two to sit with him, then. Just hit the button if he gets agitated or tries to walk again. The nurses will let you know when they have a bed ready upstairs.”
“Oh. They want to keep him overnight, then?” Deborah asked, as Pete joined them.
“Yeah. The doc will be around soon, and you can talk to her about it, but it’s a nasty concussion. They’ll watch his vitals and make sure he gets plenty of rest tonight, then probably send him home tomorrow, assuming the swelling goes down and he quits hallucinating.”
Pete did a double take. “Hallucinating? What’s this all about?”
Deborah took Pete by the arm and led him back toward Steve’s bed. “Come on, I’ll explain it to you,” she said firmly. She waved her thanks at the orderly, and then quickly filled Pete in on Steve’s behavior when she had first arrived.
Steve was not resting quietly, as Deborah had hoped. As soon as she and Pete stepped back behind the curtain, Steve launched a barrage of questions at them.
“How is she? Is she awake?” Steve demanded. Then he frowned, looking at Deborah in puzzlement. “Deborah. ARE you Deborah? You’re – different, somehow.”
Deborah bit her lip and blinked at the tears blurring her vision. Her heart broke for Steve. How often did he relive this nightmare?
Pete stepped forward. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, Steve. That was a nasty knock on the head.”
Steve stared at Pete. Confusion and uncertainty flitted across his features. “Who are you?”
Pete hesitated and glanced at Deborah.
“We’re friends,” he replied after a moment. Steve blinked. He looked around the hospital emergency ward and back at the two people standing by his bed. Nobody spoke. After a minute or two, Steve sighed.
“This isn’t Jacksonville,” he stated in a flat dull voice.
“No,” Pete answered softly. “This is Danbury. I work as a ranger at Hanging Rock.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “You do, too. And Deb. It’s been over five years since you and Sarah had the accident.”
Steve pondered Pete’s explanation for a moment. “Sarah isn’t here, either. She’s still in a coma. In Wilmington.” He added the facts bitterly.
Deborah nodded confirmation and tried to take his hand. Steve pulled it back, as if he’d touched fire. He turned his face away.
“You must think I’m nuts,” he mumbled to the wall.
“No more than I usually do,” Pete quipped lightly.
Pete and Deborah stood awkwardly, waiting for Steve to acknowledge them in some way. Finally, Deborah couldn’t be quiet any longer.
“Steve, it’s okay. Really! It’s understandable that you’d – remember –
what happened, and be confused at first. It was terrible, what happened to you and Sarah.”
Steve finally turned his head back to face Deborah and she startled at his angry expression. His vibrant blue eyes were flat and icy. “She’s not alive, but she can’t die. It still IS terrible. It’s a living hell for both of us!” He said vehemently.
“I know, Steve, I’m so…”
He cut her off. “What can you know? You were only a sophomore. She was everything!" He turned his face toward the curtain. "We should have a life together,” he muttered. “We should be married!”
Deborah’s eyes welled up again. “I didn’t know, you’re right,” she answered quietly. “But I pray every day that God will release you from the pain and guilt.”
“Guilt?” Steve spat, his voice rising in helpless anger. “Why should I feel guilty? It was an accident. Everyone says so! I don’t want your prayers, so you can quit wasting your breath. What good have they done me? Prayer didn’t bring her back or make her better. It didn’t give me back my best friend. That night took everything away!”
Deborah had shrunk back against Pete as if Steve’s words had been physical blows. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Pete’s big hands rested on her shoulders as if he was about to step protectively in front of her. His eyes, though, were not angry or upset by Steve’s diatribe. Instead they remained soft and understanding. Suddenly Steve felt ashamed and incredibly tired.
“Go home,” he growled. “Take your prayers and leave! Just get out of here.”
Pete nodded. “I need to take Deborah home, but I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow. Just call me when they release you. And get some rest, huh?”
Embarrassed and further ashamed by Pete’s calm acceptance of his behavior, Steve could say nothing. He turned his head away. When he finally looked back, they were gone and he was alone. Well, he reflected, that’s the way it should be. The way it had been since that night. It’s what he was used to.
Despondently Steve reached for the insulated water cup on the table by the bed. Attached to the straw was a sticky note, like a little flag blowing bravely in a breeze.
‘Sleep in peace tonight. God bless, Pete’
Steve read it twice, incredulously. “Stupid jerk,” he muttered in irritation. “He gets dumped on, and doesn’t have enough sense to walk away!” Steve crumbled the note and tossed it at the trash can. The little square of paper missed. Somehow, that fact made Steve angry all over again. He felt more helpless than ever.
A few minutes later, a couple of orderlies and the doctor returned. The doctor checked his vitals, and his pupils, then asked him a few questions. At last, she smiled. “Looking good so far, Mr. Williams. We’re keeping you overnight, though, just to be safe.”
The orderlies unlocked the bed breaks and rolled him down the hall to a semi-private room. They transferred him carefully to the far bed, next to the window, and left. The nurse came in moments later, carrying his water pitcher and mug. “No more attempts at walking alone tonight, Mr. Williams,” she warned in a stern voice. “You need to go to the restroom, you ring this buzzer and wait. Got that?”
Steve nodded dutifully. She settled his things on the new table, a carbon copy of the last one, and left him alone.
Steve was glad to have the window, and even more pleased that the blinds had been left partially open. From here, he could make out the Sauratown Mountains, their peaks like worn broken teeth, black against the paler night sky. It will be daybreak soon, Steve reflected. I’ll be able to see the sun rise.”
The thought gave him a strangely peaceful lift to his moody spirits. He lay drowsily in the bed, content to watch the night stars fade as dawn approached. But he did not see the sunrise. When he awoke hours later, it was almost eight o’clock in the morning, and the aides were busy passing out food trays. A smile played on his lips as he realized that for the first time in years, he had not dreamed.
Ch 6
Dealing With It
The doorbell rang several times. Steve heard it, and guessed who it probably was. He did not get up to answer it. The bell was followed by knocking, but still he did not get up, or move from the couch, where he lay in the dimly lit living room of his bungalow.
He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the pounding on the door, even as it translated into the throbbing inside his head. Surely, Pete or Deborah would get the message and leave soon! Instead, there came the sound of a key in the lock. Steve ground his teeth and swore softly. Of course. Pete knew where he hid the spare key.
Pete’s head appeared, shadowy and indistinct in the half-light of the living room.
“Hey man, you doing okay?”
“I was until you started pounding on the door.” Steve replied shortly. Pete grinned his lopsided grin. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think about your head. But when you didn’t answer the phone or the door, I got concerned.”
“I’ve been trying to rest.” Steve’s voice was cool and distant, barely polite. Pete felt suddenly awkward. He changed the subject.
“Why didn’t you call when you were released?” He asked, his tone mildly reproachful. “I told you I’d pick you up. I didn’t know that you came home until I spoke to Chuck this afternoon.”
Steve shrugged. You’d already wasted enough time on me. Chuck was free.”
Wasted time? Pete pursed his lips into a thin line and frowned. Steve was really trying to put some distance between them. Was he upset because they had witnessed the scene in the hospital? He tried again.
“Deborah has the afternoon off and she wants to fix you some dinner. She wanted me to ask what you’d like. She claims to have a killer fried chicken recipe, if you’re up for it.”
Steve closed his eyes for a moment. Couldn’t this guy take a hint? “No thanks,” he said at last. “I’m not really up for company yet.”
“Well, then I’m sure she won’t mind just fixing you a plate and bringing it by.”
“Look,” Steve said in exasperation. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ve got dinner covered already. The doctor said I need quiet and bed rest, or I have to go back in the hospital.” Steve paused and sighed. Then he spoke more calmly. "Tell Deb not to worry about fixing me anything. I’m doing just fine.”
Pete looked pointedly at the coffee table, taking in the empty bag of chips and dried up salsa, and an open, half eaten can of Spaghettios. Steve followed his gaze. When their eyes met, Steve stared back coolly. “I’m fine.” He repeated. “But my head is hurting again and I want to sleep now. Please. Leave.”
Pete sighed, backing off. “Okay, but I’m here if you need me, buddy. Deb and I are praying for you.” Steve did not respond, and after a moment, Pete stepped out and shut the door.
“Yeah, whatever,” Steve muttered, angry again and not certain why. His head was hurting, but he hated sleeping. The dreams were back, and somehow they were more painful than ever – like salt on a paper cut. The fact that both Deborah and Pete saw him acting crazy at the hospital sickened and upset him. He had thought that the past was over and behind him – done! That it had intruded into his life in such an embarrassing and - public – way…Steve shuddered. No telling how many people had heard that Ranger Williams had mistaken a thirteen year old girl for a woman he hadn’t seen in almost six years, or that he had freaked out in the emergency room!
Steve rubbed his head. It still ached so badly that his vision blurred if he moved around too much or too fast. The doctor had warned him about that, too. The concussion from the car accident; the wallop from the beer bottle last summer; and now this. Future concussions could lead to “permanent damage.” Whatever that might be. He didn’t care to think about the possibilities.
A few minutes later, Chuck arrived carrying a couple of hamburgers and onion rings. They ate in near silence, and for that, Steve was grateful. For a while after they finished, Chuck sat and twiddled his thumbs. Steve couldn’t tolerate the noise of the television, or sit up long enough to play cards or video games. The doctor had wa
rned Chuck against getting him excited, moving quickly or doing strenuous activities. That didn’t leave much for the 28 year old, 170 pound ranger to do.
After a few minutes, Steve let Chuck off the hook by saying that he needed to sleep. Chuck jumped to his feet in obvious relief. He reminded Steve that he was on duty still this evening, but that he would back tomorrow with some lunch – maybe a pizza or something.
Steve continued to lay on the couch staring into the dark. Thoughts of Sarah, the way that she used to be, filled his mind. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep with the memory of her laughter leaving a smile on his lips. He awoke a few hours later, clawing his way up from the nightmare, her final scream echoing one more time through his brain.
Steve lurched to his feet and stumbled to the kitchenette for a glass of water. Hungry, he opened the refrigerator, looking for the pack of hotdogs he’d defrosted earlier that week. Instead, there sat a plate of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and green peas. A salad bowl sat beside it.
They had been in his house while he slept! Frowning with irritation, he picked up the card laying on top of the plate.
Get well soon – we miss you!
Pete and Deb
“Get well soon,” he muttered. Suddenly, rage boiled up inside of him. Steve picked up the plate of chicken and flung it as hard as he could at the wall. The plate shattered, and chicken and globs of potato spattered the counter and floor.
“Just leave me alone!” He shouted into the dark. “I don’t want friends! I just want to be left alone! Why don’t you get that?”
Why couldn’t they get it through their heads that he didn’t need them acting like they cared? He’d be okay, no thanks to them. He didn't need their help! After the show he’d put on at the hospital, they must think he was a total nut case anyway! He didn’t want to see their looks of pity – or speculation! He didn’t want to walk in on whispered conversations, knowing they had told other people about what had happened in the hospital. Steve had had his fill of that before he left Jacksonville. Even the last time he had gone home to visit, nothing had changed. People smiled at him as he approached, but as he passed them he’d heard the comments: “Remember, he was the one who..”
Far Country Page 4
