by Tefft, Cyndi
Aiden, where are you?
I reached out to him in my mind with my last coherent thought before I succumbed to the icy blackness.
Chapter 18
“She’s waking up! Honey, can you hear me?”
My mother’s worried voice called to me through the fog. I cracked open one eye, the brightness in the room making me immediately shut it again. A wave of nausea hit me, rolling and heaving. A hand gently pressed on my shoulder until the dizziness passed. I lay there trying to steady my breathing and get a grasp of what was happening. My throat burned as I tried to call out to my mom.
“Shhh, don’t try to speak, honey. The doctor said you would have a really sore throat from the tube, but now that it’s out, you should feel better soon.”
Did she say a tube? Doctor? What is going on?
Confused and anxious, I peeked out of the one eye again, the other one not functional for some reason. My mother’s anxious face swam in and out of focus. Slowly, the blurred edges of her face became clear and she smiled at me, stroking my forehead like she used to do when I was a little girl.
“Mommy’s here, Lindsey-belle. Don’t you worry, sweetheart.”
Soothed by her voice, I breathed a deep sigh and closed my eye, settling into the mattress. The fog was a powerful force drawing me back down and I tried to shake my head to clear it, which was a terrible mistake. Another crashing wave of nausea rolled over me and I jerked to one side as my stomach wrenched and my throat constricted with a dry heave. Pain racked my chest and I lay back, panting, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Where the hell is that nurse?” Mom said. A woman’s unfamiliar voice piped up, bright and cheery.
“Ah, you’re awake sweetheart! That’s wonderful. Lindsey, I’m Sharon, your nurse. Be a good girl and give me a squeeze if you can hear me, okay?” A warm, soft hand gripped mine and I did my best to respond as instructed. “Good, good. I understand you’re feeling a little nauseous which is completely normal, so I’m going to add some anti-nausea medicine to your drip. You’ll be feeling better in no time, so just hang tight, kiddo.”
My drip? What is she talking about?
My mind couldn’t take it all in and the insistent fog closed around me, cutting me off from any cohesive thought.
“Lindsey, are you there, baby?” My mother called to me from far away before the blackness descended completely.
~
Faint twinkling notes of music grew stronger as I woke and I followed along with the familiar melody in my mind. My father mumbled, his words incoherent but insistent, repeating something I couldn’t quite hear.
Why is he here? Dad never wakes me up.
“Lindsey, pumpkin, can you hear me? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here before when you woke up. I love you, baby.” His deep voice was stricken and my heart reached out to him, not knowing what was wrong but wanting to comfort him.
“Dad…” My voice was little more than a hoarse whisper but I heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Lindsey! Oh honey, you’re awake!”
Knives raked my throat as I tried to swallow and I croaked out “water.” His chair squeaked on the floor next to me.
“Right, I’ll go find the nurse and get you some water. Stay right here,” he said, his voice giddy and frantic.
Stay right here? I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.
I blinked with one eye and stared up at the ceiling, absently tracing the little dots on the sterile, white tile while my mind grappled with the limited information I had.
He said ‘nurse.’ Mom said ‘doctor.’ Am I in the hospital?
With great effort, I slowly turned my head, taking in the plastic sea foam green couch under the window. Light from the lamp in the corner reflected on the glass in the dimly lit room so that I got a view of myself in the hospital bed, brown curls splayed against a stark white pillow, IV bag on a silver stand, tubes running everywhere.
Shaking, I propped myself up to get a better view. I wanted to see. I needed to see. My reflection stared back at me in horror, one eye completely swollen shut, my lip swollen twice the normal size on one side. I looked as though I had been beaten with a baseball bat, my face covered with bruises. A tube ran from my right breast into a container on the floor and gauze encircled my right arm. My fat lip began to quiver and my eyes swam with tears.
Did someone assault me?
I struggled to remember what had happened, but I was at a complete loss. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sight of my battered face, like driving past the scene of a terrible accident.
Accident?
Something bubbled up as that word came to mind and I tried desperately to figure out why. My scattered thoughts were interrupted though, as the nurse entered the room, followed close behind by my father. She was short and round with a curly bob of burgundy red hair and bright lipstick to match.
“Oh, honey, you need to lie down,” she said. “You can’t be getting up now. That’s it, that’s better.” I didn’t have the strength to argue with her as she swiftly settled me back onto the mattress. My muscles relaxed into the bed and I had to admit she was right.
“Your dad said you asked for water. I brought you some ice chips, sweetie. You can’t have water because we don’t want you throwing up, but the ice chips will make your throat feel better. Open up now. That’s a good girl.” She tugged lightly at my swollen lip and I winced in pain. “Oh, sorry, honey. I know that’s still tender. Just need to open up a little bit.” I dropped my jaw slightly and she placed the cool sliver of ice on my tongue. It was heavenly and gone far too quickly. “Here you go, Dad,” she said. “You can keep feeding them to her while I take her vitals.”
She proceeded to putz around me, pulling on things and talking to herself while Dad placed one ice chip after another on my tongue, his face piqued with worry.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice hardly recognizable. His eyes darted frantically to the nurse for help. She encouraged him with a nod.
“Do you remember anything, pumpkin?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, just enough so he could see. He let out a long sigh and took my hand in his own. Fear started to build in my chest.
“Well, sweetie, you were in a really bad car accident. The doctors didn’t know if you would live. You fractured several ribs and had a collapsed lung—” he broke off, his voice wavering, “—and you almost bled to death because of the gash in your arm.” Anxiety spiked in the pit of my stomach at his description of the damage. He squeezed my hand for reassurance. “You were really lucky, honey. We thought we were going to lose you. I don’t know what I would have done if…”
A tear rolled down his cheek and he looked away, unable to contain the emotion. He rubbed his face with his other hand and took a deep breath, then turned back to me with a forced smile. “But the surgeon was amazing, baby, and you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be just fine.” His smile became more genuine as he talked himself into this diagnosis, and I wondered how much of it was true.
A car accident.
I lie there silently, trying to remember. A mental image came to me: rain and streaks of light shining through droplets of water with dark trees beyond. I felt strangely detached though, like I was looking from the outside in. None of it made any sense and I closed my one eye, relaxing into the pillow.
“I don’t remember.” I sighed, frustrated at this gap in time but Dad squeezed my hand and his voice took on a more cheerful tone.
“That’s okay, pumpkin. It’s probably better that way anyway. Just try to get some rest. Do you want some more ice?” I declined and Nurse Sharon touched me on the shoulder.
“Lindsey, I need you to tell me how much pain you’re feeling,” she said. “What would you rate it on a scale of one to ten—one being a little cut and ten being you slammed your fingers in the car door?” My dad made a horrified gasp and she realized her faux pas at the same time. “I’m sorry, that’s the example I always use and I just didn’t
think about it. I’m really sorry.” My dad muttered something unflattering under his breath and Sharon turned back to me, determined to get her answer. “Sorry, honey. One to ten? How much pain are you in?”
I took stock of my body for the first time and while everything was stiff and I did have shooting pains when I tried to move, nothing really hurt too much at that moment.
I must be pretty heavily drugged, then.
“I don’t know. Two, maybe three. It really only hurts when I move.”
She nodded like she’d expected as much and tucked my blankets around me. “Sure, sure. We’ll keep you at the same level then. Just try not to move around, but you do need to take deep breaths as often as you can to help heal that lung. If you need anything, you just push the red button on the side of the bed.” She pointed out the button with a big, toothy smile and padded off quickly, not meeting my dad’s eyes.
“Stupid nurse,” Dad muttered. “Did she upset you, sweetheart?”
“No, I’m all right, Dad. Just a little tired.” In fact, I was exhausted and could barely stay focused, the pull of oblivion beckoning once again.
“That’s fine, Linds. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here if you wake up and need anything. I love you, baby.” He kissed my fingertips, then tucked my hand next to my side. I closed my good eye and blissfully sank into nothingness.
~
When morning came, I woke with stiff muscles from lying flat for so long. I tried to sit up and got no more than a few inches off the mattress before the pain in my chest forced me to lie back again, breathing hard. My stomach rumbled and I reached out to press the call button on the side of the bed, but stopped when I heard voices in the hall.
“The doctor said it was all right for me to see her. Please?” a lilting Indian voice whispered on the other side of the door.
Nurse Sharon responded begrudgingly, “Well, I guess it will be fine. Just don’t upset her. She needs to lay still or she could do more damage.”
The door opened and my visitor hobbled over to me on crutches, one leg wrapped in a cast from thigh to ankle. Our eyes met and he stared at me, relief and shock etched on his face.
Ravi.
My hand flew to my mouth at his battered appearance. His face didn’t look much better than mine, bruised and swollen with several stitches along his forehead, the black ends of the suture poking out either end of what looked like a deep gash. Seeing him brought back shards of memories from that night, the feel of his kiss and hearing him say, “I love you.” Then somehow the next thing I remember was seeing him in the crumpled car saying, “No, leave me. Help Lindsey.”
Again, the vision was from the outside of the car and I couldn’t understand how that could be, but I had a very clear image of his bloodied face and I shuddered with the memory. He attempted a smile that ended up looking completely pathetic and I laughed, my voice soft and hoarse.
“You look like hell,” I teased and he returned my laughter, his face breaking into a real smile.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he replied. He stood next to my bed and we smiled at one another for a moment, not sure what to say next. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me.
“Do you remember anything?” I asked. He shook his head and I recognized that same sense of frustration that I’d felt earlier. He took my hand, shifting so he could stay upright on his crutches.
“They told me you almost died. It’s all my fault, Lindsey. I’m so sorry.” The guilt and pain in his eyes broke my heart.
“It’s not your fault. It was an accident.”
His face creased in a frown and he shook his head, unable to accept my forgiveness. I didn’t know what to say to help him so I just lie there, holding his hand.
“I had to see you. They didn’t want me to because they thought it might upset you, but I had to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”
“I’ll be all right. I’m glad you came.” I tried to smile and was rewarded with a small sigh of acceptance. He pressed my fingers to his lips and hesitated, then smiled with decision.
“I have good news. My mother flew here from India when she got the call about the accident.”
My good eye flew open wide. “Your mother is here?”
“Yes, she got here last night,” he said with a mischievous grin. “And I told her about us.” Startled, I instinctively jerked forward. Agonizing jolts of pain shot across my chest. Ravi panicked and nearly fell, unable to bend his leg at all.
“Lindsey, don’t do that! You have to lie still!” He struggled to pull himself up straight with one hand on my bed rails. I lay motionless for a moment, panting and concentrating on the ceiling tiles until the pain subsided.
“Yes, I told her about you, that I love you and I don’t care that you’re not Indian.”
“What did she say?” I asked, unease twisting in my gut.
“Well, what could she say, really? Here I am lying in hospital, bandaged and bruised. It’s not like she could say no.” My mind rebelled at this open declaration of his feelings, but I wasn’t really sure why it bothered me so much. “Do you want me to introduce you to her?” he asked hopefully and I shook my head as vehemently as I dared, desperately trying to think of some excuse to avoid meeting his mother.
“No, I… I don’t want her to see me this way. Please?”
“Okay, then. Maybe not just now.” He hopped up closer to my head and leaned awkwardly over the bed rails to kiss me. Something in me was very uncomfortable with this intimacy and I stiffened a little at his touch.
Maybe I do blame him for the accident after all.
It was the only logical explanation I could come up with, but it made me feel very cold and shallow, so I pushed away the thought.
“Before you came in, I was going to ask the nurse to bring me some food. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything at all since before the accident.” He studied me for a moment and then apparently decided against what he was going to say. He nodded and picked up his other crutch, hopping a little toward the end of the bed as he did.
“Sure, I’ll let her know you’re hungry. I should probably go anyway and let you get some rest.” He smiled and clumsily rounded the corner of the bed, trying to move sideways on his crutches. He stopped at my feet and turned back to me, his face asking a question I was not willing to answer.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear I’ll make it up to you. I don’t know how, but I will.” He didn’t look at me again, but limped his way out of the room on his crutches. My heart ached, watching him go. I pushed the call button and the nurse came bustling in.
“Hey there, sweetie. Your boyfriend told me you’re ready to eat something.” Sharon smiled her toothy grin at me, picking up my chart. I irrationally bristled inside at the use of the term ‘boyfriend’ and shook my head.
“No, I just want to rest. The pain is getting worse. Can you give me something to help me sleep?” Sharon looked at me critically but nodded.
“Sure, sure, honey. I’ll crank it up a bit and you should be feeling better in no time. Remember what I said before about taking deep breaths now.”
After I promised to carry out the torturous exercise as often as possible, she patted my foot and left me alone with my thoughts. I dreamt of a beautiful meadow with wildflowers waving in the breeze and a sparkling blue stream of water. I knelt down beside the cool water and scooped up a handful. The soothing effects ran through my body, filling me and strengthening me. I smiled and stirred in my sleep then grimaced as a pain in my side jarred me awake.
My dad slept curled up on that tiny, uncomfortable couch under the window and I watched him sleep for a while. His light snoring joined in with the ticking mechanical noises from my monitors and the steady drip from my IV, comprising an oddly comforting cacophony of loving care that warmed me. Here he was sleeping on that God-awful excuse for a couch just so I wouldn’t wake up alone in the middle of the night.
Dad.
The memory of our trip to the Space Needle y
ears ago filled my mind and I smiled, remembering that sweet moment walking hand in hand, more vivid now for some reason. He grunted in his sleep and tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but eventually gave up and sank back into a gentle snore. I decided to do my breathing exercises and winced at the pain, but reminded myself of the sacrifice Dad was making for me and suffered through it. Exhausted, I settled into my pillow and joined him in sleep. When I woke in the morning, he was sitting at my bedside.
“Good morning, pumpkin. I’m glad you got some good rest last night.” He obviously had not. Disheveled and unshaven with dark circles under his eyes, he gave me a tired smile.
“Thanks, Dad. I’m sorry you have to sleep on that miserable couch. Couldn’t you get a hotel or something? You don’t have to stay here.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’d rather be with you than anywhere else.” He patted my hand. “Hey, would you like some breakfast? The nurse told me you can eat a little something now. You must be starving.” My stomach growled just then, answering for me and he jumped up, thankful to have a purpose. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
A warm feeling settled over me as I watched him go. Ever since the divorce, things had been strained between us and it felt good to have that melt away, to be close to him again. He returned shortly, carrying a tray of jello, ice cream and chicken broth.
“I know it isn’t ‘taties and eggs’ but it’s all they’d let me give you since you haven’t eaten anything for a while. They don’t want you throwing up.”
I had a brief flash of the family cabin when he said that, but my thought was interrupted as he swung over a mobile cart and proceeded to open all the little containers of food. As much as I hated to admit it, even this pitiful breakfast looked appetizing and I downed the small bowl of chicken broth. It didn’t take much before my stomach revolted and I grimaced, wishing I’d taken it a little slower.
