Chapter 1
In my youth, I would often sit on our old couch, backwards, and stare into the mirror my parents had hung up on the wall. The reflection showed me a world outside the big bay window. I would watch for hours as traffic raced by the world inside the polished sheet of glass. I don’t know what fascinated me about the view through that particular portal, but I would often wonder what the world would be like inside the glass, on the other side.
Would the world end at the edge of the reflection? Were there people that lived inside the mirrors, looking back at us? What would it be like to be inside that mirror. After my accident I got to find out for myself.
I woke with no memory of how I got into the hospital. The doctors had taken my identification from my wallet, and informed my parents. A card with an entirely too neatly written, ‘get well soon’ written underneath stood next to the bed. After a quick word with the nurses, I learned that my parents hadn’t come to see me. It wasn’t a surprise. They hadn’t talked to me in years. I had to admit a little shock that they had even bothered to have flowers sent.
The doctor returned to my room with a stack of papers under his arm. He explained to me that it was over two weeks since my accident. I had been in a coma for the entire time, unresponsive to all stimuli. He told me I had received a severe blow to the scull and my MRI showed extensive damages to my brain.
While explaining it all to me he kept looking at me in a very odd way. After about five minutes of what must have been beating around the bush he placed the stack of papers at my feet, took a deep breath, and simply said, "How are you still alive? With everything we know about medicine, and seeing what damages you sustained, you shouldn't be talking to me right now, let alone being coherent. In fact, I have spoken with the nurses, and they all say the same thing, since you woke from the coma it's been as if you were never injured at all. If I hadn't been in the hospital when they brought you in, I wouldn't have believed it myself."
"I have no idea doc. I'm not even sure what happened."
I watched as the doctor picked up the charts again and flipped through the pages, his eyes shifting as he quickly scanned the pages. "You crashed your motorcycle. The police reports say you were wearing a helmet, it probably saved your life, but the drunk driver that struck you claims to have not seen you at all. He was arrested and is waiting a trial. The good news for him is it won't be a manslaughter trial now…"
As the Doctor spoke a flood of images rushed back to me, I remembered the night. I had just been rejected at yet another job interview. My rent was due and I didn't have any money left to pay for it. My landlord had informed me in a poorly written letter stapled to my front door that if I didn't pay soon the locks would be changed, and my life dumped outside for anyone to pick up. I figured my things would be long gone now.
The realization sunk in. I had no home, my bike was gone, I had no job, and my parents didn't seem to care enough to even visit. I had lived through an incredible accident and woke two weeks later to find myself destitute.
I raised my hand to hide the look on my face, and the Doctor mistook the action as my fingers brushed against the bandages wrapped around my head.
"I will take those off in a day or two and have a look at the wound on your head. Your helmet took the majority of the blow, but your head still took a nasty…well, you already know. Regardless, we will need you to stay here a couple more days for observation. Is there anything we can get for you? Do you need to call someone? Your parents perhaps?"
"No, I mean, not yet thanks. I think I just need to lie down for a while. I feel…tired."
"Yes, that's perfectly understandable. Of course, I will leave you alone for now. If you need anything, just buzz the nurse. I believe Mia is working tonight. She has been keeping an eye on you while you were out. I am sure she will be happy to see you awake. Have a good sleep. We will talk again tomorrow."
I watched as the Doctor dimmed the lights and closed the door behind him. The soft click of the door latch left me alone.
My thoughts ran in circles. I would be okay for a few days here in the hospital. It was one of the benefits of living in Canada. Medical took care of you when you needed it. However, once I was released, I didn't have anything other than the clothes on my back, if I even had those.
Being careful to not pull out the IV I still had in my arm, I slung the blankets aside and placed my feet on the floor. The cold, polished tiles a shock to my feet I shivered as the unfamiliar sensation took me by surprise. The sudden cold also brought on another feeling I hadn't experienced in a while. I really had to pee.
Taking a careful step towards what I expected to be the bathroom, my IV caught on the edge of the clipboard the doctor had left on my bed and sent it skidding across the floor.
My fingers shook slightly as I reached down and picked it up. Written across the top was my name in big letters, Dario Fisher, in smaller letters under that was my diagnosis. Severe head trauma, unresponsive to all stimuli, not expected to wake.
I really was hurt that bad…the doctor is right, how am I awake now?
The door opened spilling the dimmed room with light from the hallway. A nurse's head peaked through the door and looked towards my bed. A gasp escaped her as she saw me standing. "Oh! You really are awake! I am so glad to see that. I had hoped you would pull through."
The door opened wider as she slid into my room. "Hi. I am Nurse Mia. You shouldn't be standing right now; in fact, you shouldn't be out of bed at all. Please, sit back down before you get hurt."
As my eyes adjusted to the added light Mia's features came into focus. She had curly black hair that hung just above her shoulders. Her skin was a soft white in direct contrast to her hair. Only her clean pressed nurse's uniform seemed whiter.
"Hi Mia, it's nice to meet you. The doctor says you took good care of me. Thank you."
Mia's hand flew up, fingers covering her mouth in shock. "Oh my! Your speech isn't even affected. How remarkable!" In a flurry of movement, she rushed over to my side. Please…sit down at least. Is there something I can get for you?" Her hand brushed mine briefly, as she took the clipboard from me.
I tried to tell her that I was okay, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud gurgle.
"Stay right here. I will see what the kitchen has left, perhaps I can warm something up for you."
"Thank you Mia. I don't suppose it would be too much to ask if I could use the bathroom. I think it's been a while since I have seen myself."
"Of course. Just please, don't stay up for long." Mia's voice faded as the door again closed behind her.
My legs betrayed my will as I stood and shuffled over to the bathroom door. My IV dragging its stand along behind me, one wheel dragging behind the others. I couldn't help but think of the carts in the grocery store. I always got the one with a bad wheel.
As I drug it towards the bathroom, I realized Mia did have my best intentions in mind. All the time I had spent in bed seemed to have taken a toll on me.
With a flick of the switch, the bathroom light buzzed its florescent glow on my reflection in the mirror. At least I thought it was my reflection.
The eyes looking back at me were familiar, however the rest of the face was barely recognizable. Purple bruises blended with red swelling distorting my features. It was a wonder I spoke clearly. With an effort I pulled back my lips. At least all my teeth seemed intact. A small victory.
A bandage had been wound around the top of my head. It seemed clean, from what I could see on the outside anyway.
For the longest time I simply just stared at the reflection in the mirror. The lines were still there. The brown eyes still had the light inside of them, I could see the signs of healing, although it looked like hell, it must have been worse before. My hair had been cut, poorly, it wasn't a style I would have chosen myself, yet I guess it was better than what it could have been if left to grow out. My face showed only the slightest bit of a scruff growing in. I didn't normally let my beard grow out, but I cou
ld see the advantage of not having a close shave at this point of a healing process. I noted with some regret that my goatee had been trimmed off. Ah well, it would grow back if I let it.
Taking advantage of the time alone, I raised my hands and inspected the rest of my body. I felt oddly fine, only the visible damage seemed to differ from my reality.
Pulling back the sleeves of my robe I saw faint scars on my arms. They had no place in my memory. The IV still tugged at my arm as I twisted myself looking for more wounds with no explanations.
Satisfied that the worst of my damage seemed to be to my head and face I placed my hands down on the counter next to the sink and stared into the mirror. My reflection looked back at me. I don't know why, but at that moment I reached forward and pressed my fingers up to the glass surface, reaching to touch the wounded reflection in front of me.
I never made contact.
I gasped as I snatched my hand back and pressed my fingers against my face. The man in the mirror mimicking my every motion.
Slower this time I reached forward again and pushed my fingers towards the glass, and as before, they passed right through, meeting no resistance.
The click of the door behind me and Mia's voice asking if I was okay were the last sounds I heard as I sank to the bathroom floor in darkness.
A collection of Short Stories Page 9
