She's Not Here

by Mandi Lynn

  Avery was wearing a pair of headphones as well. A switch was flipped, and the room was filled with a loud pulsing sound. The sound beat through Sam’s skin and Avery’s hand tightened around her leg as she was pushed into the tight machine. She held still as the pulsing and rhythmic sounds continued around her. When she looked through the mirror above her, she could see Avery’s torso, but not much else. The corners of Sam’s eyes caught only a glimpse of the inside of the machine: close, plastic corridors. Music played through the headphones, but it seemed to do little against the sounds of the machine.

  However many minutes passed, she wasn’t sure. It had been too long by the time the nurses pulled Sam out the machine again. A layer of sweat was coating her skin when she was released.

  “And that’s it,” a nurse said, helping Sam sit up.

  Avery smiled at her as Sam sat up. She swayed to the side and a nurse kept her arm behind her back for balance.

  Sam was hollow. The noise of the MRI machine was there as echo inside her mind. She could still hear it as she was wheeled out of the room. Paul and Shelly were out in the hall waiting for her when she left the room.

  “How did it go?” Paul said.

  “She did great,” the nurse said. “We have her imaging, and I’m going to send them to Dr. Ash to look over. For now, we’re going to send Sam back to her room where she can rest while you wait for Dr. Ash to come back with the results.”

  Sam was rolled back to her room and it only took her a few moments to fall asleep once she was placed back in her bed. The sounds of the MRI machine were beginning to fade as she drifted off into sleep.

  “Did she seem okay?” Paul asked, turning to where Avery sat.

  He was standing at the edge of Sam’s bed as he spoke. Shelly was on the far end of the room, slumped over in a chair. Her head rest in her hands, propped on the arm of the chair.

  “She seemed scared,” Avery said. She leaned against the edge of Sam’s bed, wishing the hospital had more than the hard, plastic chairs. “When they turned the machine on I could feel her body tense up. She stayed like that during the entire procedure, which is probably why she’s so exhausted now.”

  Paul nodded, but his eyes wandered over Sam’s body. He was looking for something, but he didn’t know what.

  “What is it?” Avery asked.

  “I don’t get it. How she’s here. How she survived the fire, yet we don’t know why she’s in a hospital bed.” He paused, letting his hand run over his face, the stubble on his chin. “How can a fire cause a seizure?” There was a hitch in his voice and he cleared his throat.

  Avery watched Sam’s eyes. They were closed, but if she watched close enough she could see a soft flutter. Was she dreaming?

  “I don’t know either,” she said.

  She wanted to offer Paul words of encouragement, but she was deflated of hope. Even with the silence of Sam’s room, she felt like she could still hear the MIR machine beating around like it was going to tumble in on Sam.

  “She couldn’t remember her own mother’s death! Isn’t that something that sticks with you, no matter what?” When Avery looked over, Paul had walked away from the edge of Sam’s bed and was pacing the room. His eyes looked red and his hands were restless at his sides.

  “I would give anything, anything to forget that phone call saying that Cheryl was gone. I wasn’t there when she died, but I remember the moment so clearly I’m afraid the memory of her death will replace the memory of her life.”

  His voice was rising as he spoke, but the more the words came, the more defeated he sounded.

  “Children are never supposed to die before their parents,” Paul said.

  Avery stood up and crossed the room to where Paul stood. He was looking out the window into the parking lot of the hospital, watching families, people come and go. Avery followed his gaze before wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back, but he couldn’t get himself to look at her or anything within the room. Life had betrayed him and left him with this mess.

  “Parents aren’t supposed to die when the child still needs them either,” Avery said. She followed her grandfather’s gaze out the window to the birds that were flying high over the buildings. She wished for the freedom to fly away.

  “I’m so sorry, Avery,” he said.

  She shook her head against his chest as he spoke. For now, the pain of her parents being gone was pushed away. She could open that box another day when Sam was awake and they could deal with it together.

  “Do you think Sam will be okay?” she said.

  “I sure hope so.”

  The sound of a door opening caused them both to turn. Sam’s doctor walked in with a clipboard in hand and closed the door behind him.

  “Is she okay?” the words echoed across the room again. This time it was Paul who said it.

  Paul walked over to Shelly, tapping her on the shoulder to wake her up. When her eyes opened, she seemed bright for a moment, until she looked around the room and remembered where she was—why she was here. Within a few seconds, the light disappeared from her eyes and while she was present physically, her bright glow had left the room.

  “I’ve been looking over the MRI scans and there doesn’t seem to be any abnormalities,” Dr. Ash said. Once the words were said, a collective breath was released throughout the room. “Everything appears to be normal, and we think that the memory lapse is either a result of shock or temporary damage caused by the seizure. Either way, with enough time and rest, she should be back to normal.”

  “And what if she’s not?” Paul said.

  Dr. Ash let the question hang in the air for a moment before he could come up with an answer. He looked over to Sam whose bottom lip hug open as she slept.

  “Then it might be a brain injury that hasn’t had the chance to surface yet. If she doesn’t get better on her own, we’ll do more tests.”

  “What about right now?” Paul stepped towards Dr. Ash. He wasn’t a fighter, only for his family. Dark circles were ingrained under his eyes. Shelly stood up to hold onto his arm in a silent effort to keep him calm. “I don’t want to wait until she gets worse to find out what’s wrong with her. I want tests done now. I want to know now whether she’s going to be okay or not.”

  Avery stayed by the window. When Paul spoke, she could feel his voice breaking. He was on the verge of tears, but he never cried in front of strangers, never mind the doctor that was supposed to save his granddaughter’s life. So instead of crying, he yelled. Dr. Ash was just unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

  “Paul.” This time Shelly spoke, though her voice seemed to get lost among Paul’s.

  “No, Shelly, we’ve already lost Cheryl. I’m not losing Sam too.”

  “I lost Cheryl, too,” Shelly said. “And Daniel.” She held herself taller, but just barely. Avery watched her family as their anger formed the tears that they were too afraid to cry. “She was my daughter, too.”

  Dr. Ash held Sam’s file in his hand, but he didn’t look at it. He had already spent hours combing through it, looking for at least one thing to tell him what was wrong. He had it memorized by now. Sam was in perfect health according to the MRI.

  “Sam needs all the help she can get,” Paul said.

  “Sam needs to heal,” Dr. Ash intervened. “She can’t heal if we’re taking her from room to room, placing her in these machines, taking her blood, making her do all these tests—they aren’t good for her.” Dr. Ash finished speaking, letting his own frustration hang in the room.

  “I’ll take the tests.” The voice was so soft among the uproar; it was just barely a sound.

  Sam was awake and when everyone turned to her it was obvious that they had all forgotten she was there in the first place.

  “Whatever test it is, I’ll take it.”

  Paul and Shelly looked at each other. Was it shock or confusion that decorated their faces?

  “Sam, we don’t have any tests for you to take right now,” Dr. Ash said.

  �
��And why is that?” Paul was back on his feet, and Shelly retreated into her chair.

  “Sam has been through a lot,” Dr. Ash said, turning to Paul. He took a deep breath before he faced Sam again. “The best thing for you to do is rest. If you have time to heal, you might not need any further tests.”

  “I want further tests,” Paul said without skipping a beat.

  “And we’ll cross that bridge when we approach it.”

  For a moment, all air filtered out of the room before Dr. Ash turned to Sam and looked over the machines that monitored her.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she said. When she spoke, it was obvious she had been awake for the whole conversation. She shifted in her bed, self-conscious of the eyes on her.

  “Why don’t we let her rest? Time alone will do her well. Why don’t you all say goodnight and call it a day?” Dr. Ash said, turning to Paul and Shelly.

  Before Paul could say anything, Avery stepped forward to lean over the side of Sam’s bed.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  Sam gave a small nod, but her eyes were already starting to close.

  “I don’t feel right,” she said. Avery frowned when she touched Sam’s hand that was tangled among the wires. “It’s like, there’s this current flowing through my body, and it won’t stop. It keeps me awake.” Her words were contradictory as Avery watched Sam’s head lull to the side. Her eyes were wide, but she fought to keep her head up.

  Avery looked over to Dr. Ash who was writing something down. He looked up quickly and gave Avery a sharp look and nodded before he turned back to his papers and wrote what Sam had said. When Avery looked over to Shelly and Paul they were having their own quiet conversation.

  “You’ll be okay,” she said, and she placed a small kiss on Sam’s forehead. Her forehead still had a light sheen of sweat and Sam’s look up to Avery as she backed away. Terror was alight in her eyes. She didn’t want to be left alone.

  Chapter 14

  Sam was awake when Willow stepped into her room. It was at the beginning of her shift, and she slipped in before anyone could notice. Sam was sitting up in bed, staring at the IV in her hand.

  “Sam?” she said.

  Sam turned her head to look at Willow, but her body froze. The nurse had an odd familiarity. Her body was electric, like she needed to run, but she wasn’t sure why and she urged the feeling to pass.

  “I don’t feel right,” Sam said. Her eyes were wide, and she looked at the needle in her skin like it was a foreign object.

  “What do you feel like?” Willow said. She looked at the machines beside Sam’s bed. Her blood pressure was fine, heartbeat high, but most likely due to her own fear rather than health.

  “You know how there are those shock pens that people use for pranks? If you push on the pen it shocks you and you can feel the electricity going up your arm? Well, I feel like that, but instead of my arm, it’s my whole body.”

  Sam kicked her feet out from under the blankets of the bed and looked over her body expecting to see something hidden in her skin that was causing the sensation.

  “Do you feel sick?” Willow asked.

  “I feel like I’m in a bubble,” she said. “I can see what’s in front of me, but it’s out of reach.”

  “It might just be stress,” Willow said. She stepped closer to Sam. She needed her to be calm, but most of all she needed Sam’s trust. The possibility of the serum working made her stomach churn and head spin. She was ignited by the possibility of finding a cure.

  “Don’t say that,” Sam said. There was a blood pressure monitor on the tip of Sam’s finger, and she pulled it off. The machine beside her bed went blank. “Everyone keeps saying that, but I can’t remember anything. My parents are dead, and I have no idea what happened.”

  Willow rushed over and slipped the monitor back on her finger. She expected Sam to pull away, but she never did. Sam let Willow work and settle everything back into place. Willow adjusted Sam’s body until she was laying down and her head was resting against the pillow. “There was a fire,” she said.

  “I should know that,” Sam said. Her voice was a whine. She was a child who had been left out on a secret.

  “Your body is just trying to protect you. It can’t handle the stress of knowing. It will come in time.” As she spoke she wondered if it was the serum already at work. She watched Sam, looking for the vacant look in her eyes that her father always seemed to have before her died. Sam looked back at Willow, a glint in her eye that said she was still there. That was good, wasn’t it? For a moment, Willow was disappointed that maybe the serum didn’t work.

  The monitor kicked back on, and Willow looked it over to make sure her vitals looked normal. She slipped out a small notebook from the pocket of her scrubs. Her folded paper fell out onto the floor and she bent down to pick up before Sam noticed. The notebook was for Sam. It was small enough that she could conceal it while still being able to write down everything she would need to document about the effects of the serum. She wrote in small letters, ‘Doesn’t remember fire or parents’ death” and dated the page at the top.

  “You’re doing better than you think,” Willow said. She closed the notebook, a burning guilt forming in the back of her mind. There was no going back now.

  — — — — —

  Sam pealed the tape off her skin and pulled the IV out in a slow, measured movement. A small pool of blood was left in its wake, and she hid it under gauze. She unclipped the small device from her pointer finger and the machines in her room went blank again. When her feet finally touched the floor of the hospital, it was a sweet relief to feel the cool tile again her skin, even if it was through a pair of thin hospital socks. She still felt like there was a part of herself that was beyond reach, but the floor beneath her feet at least made her feel present.

  Sam pushed her door open and let the light of the hallway empty into the room. Her hospital gown hung open behind her, the only real piece of clothing was her thin underwear. Goosebumps lined her arms and legs, but she pushed herself through the door.

  She hadn’t bothered to see what time of night it was, but the sky was black when she left her room. In the hallway, nurses floated through the hall just as always, but there seemed to be a muffled hush as they worked. There was no urgency, no visitors, just the quiet of the night.

  “Miss?” A nurse came up from behind Sam. She let her hand linger on Sam’s arm with a light, but firm grip. The nurse was ready to take hold in case Sam decided to take off. “Do you need help with anything? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

  Sam looked over the nurse. Her scrubs were bright green, her hair pulled back into a bun, but her face didn’t seem familiar.

  “No,” Sam said. Once she realized she didn’t know the nurse, her gaze redirected to someplace down the hall. She wasn’t sure what she was searching for, but she knew she wanted to be gone.

  The nurse gripped Sam’s wrist and turned over the hospital ID band. She hadn’t noticed the thin plastic around her wrist until then. She stared back at it, her name and birth date printed out on her wrist for all to see.

  “Come on, Samantha, it’s time for you to go back to your room.”

  She thought about running, but even though she was on her feet, she didn’t trust her muscles to take her anywhere far. She swayed as the nurse kept one hand on her wrist and the other behind Sam’s back to guide her back to her room.

  “Here we are,” the nurse said, turning the light on in the room as she stepped through.

  She settled Sam on the bed and laid the blanket across her body. The warmth of the room drew her into a prison again. Whatever life and freedom she had felt when her feet touched the floor disappeared.

  “How does your hand feel?”

  The nurse held Sam’s hand in her own, lightly massaging where she had taken the IV out.

  “Sore,” Sam said.

  The nurse held her hand up to the light for a closer look.

>   “How about we switch hands?”

  Before Sam could answer, the nurse was on the other side of the bed with her left hand, rubbing alcohol where the IV would be inserted. Sam watched as the needle was slipped into her skin, looking away only as she winced from the pain.

  “There,” the nurse said. She stood up, checking the IV line before putting the pulse oximeter on the tip of her finger to monitor her blood pressure. “I’m going to bring your nurse in to check on you. Have a good night, Sam. Try to get some sleep.”

  Sam watched her as she stepped out of the room. She felt more trapped than ever.

  Chapter 15

  Avery was there when the phone rang at her grandparents’ house. Paul was out visiting Sam at the hospital, so it was Shelly who stood up to answer the phone.

  “Hello?” she said, there was a short pause. “Yes, speaking.”

  Avery didn’t want to listen, but in the stillness of the moment she could hear the faint words of “fire” and “oven.”

  Shelly stood at the kitchen sink looking out the window of as someone on the other line spoke. Her face was stone. Avery knew Shelly had been crying in moments of privacy; she could see it some days when her eyes were tired and worn, but Shelly tried to make it a point not to push that onto Avery as well.

  “Yes, thank you. Goodbye,” she said, hanging up the phone.

  Avery waited for her grandmother to turn to her and tell her what was said but she kept her back turned.

  “Grandma?” Shelly covered her face with her hands before she spun around to look at Avery. She tried her best to conceal the emotions, but they spilled over through her frown.

  “Was that the fire department?” Avery asked.

  Shelly sat next to her on the couch and held the phone in her hands. She looked at the blank screen as if she was waiting for it to ring again.

  “It was,” she said. “They were calling because they’re closing the investigation on the cause of the fire.”