by Emma Scott
“A vision?”
“Yes, it’s… It’s coming…”
“What’s coming?”
“Winter.” I rolled my eyes up in my head, showing the whites. “Winter is coming…”
Rita snorted laughter which made me laugh and break character. The doctors stared at me and the young interns looked around, in need of guidance.
“Get it?” I said. “Bran Stark? You guys don’t watch Game of Thrones? Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Then my eyes widened as I realized I’d missed two years of the show. “Oh my God, do not spoiler me or I’ll go Arya Stark on y’all.”
Dr. Milton chuckled while Dr. Chen rolled her eyes with a bemused smile.
“If we could please get back to our questions?” she said.
“Sure. Sorry. Go ahead. I’ll behave.”
They asked questions, and I answered honestly and without fucking with them, though it was tempting.
When they finished their interrogation, Dr. Milton and Dr. Chen conferred for a moment.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“So far, everything you’re experiencing is consistent with what the Sydney team is reporting with their first group of patients,” Dr. Milton said. “In fact, you’re doing so well, I feel confident I can leave you in Dr. Chen’s capable hands.”
“You’re leaving her?” Delia was at the door, staring daggers at Dr. Milton. “She’s only been out of the hospital three days.”
“Ah, Ms. Hughes,” Dr. Milton said, shooting me a wink. “We weren’t expecting you until this afternoon.”
Delia stood beside me. “When you would’ve been long gone, sneaking out without talking to me?”
“I had every intention of discussing Thea’s case with you,” he said patiently. “I’m not leaving like a thief in the night. Perhaps in the next few days, if she continues to do so well. We’re pleased with her progress.”
“Hear that, Deel?” I said. “I’m doing great, so chill the hell out.”
“How about some breakfast?” Rita said.
“Go. Enjoy,” Dr. Chen said. “We’ll check back with you after lunch.”
Delia, Rita, and I headed down to the dining room. Margery, behind the counter, gave me a tray of oatmeal, toast, fruit, and orange juice.
“Coffee too, please,” I said.
Margery glanced at Rita who glanced at Delia.
“You’re kidding,” I said to my sister. “You didn’t let me have coffee? And I thought the wardrobe was the torture.”
“It’s not good for you,” Delia said. “Juice is better.”
“To be fair,” Rita said, “we didn’t want the caffeine to interfere with your sleep patterns.”
“Decaf doesn’t exist in this part of Virginia?” I said with a laugh. I stopped. “Wait. We are still in Virginia, right?”
Delia rolled her eyes. “Always, with the dumb jokes.”
“Damn skippy,” I said, turning to Margery. “Coffee, please. A big one.”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
She passed me a steaming mug and I took a sip.
“God, even no cream or sugar and it’s heaven. But I’m going to need cream and sugar, please, Marge. And lots of it.”
We took our trays to a table near the window. Other residents were having their breakfast with the aid of their assistants.
I put cinnamon on my oatmeal and took a bite. Warm and sweet and perfect.
“I haven’t had oatmeal in two years,” I said, taking another heaping spoonful.
“Don’t be silly, of course, you have,” Delia said, forking a piece of strawberry from her fruit bowl. “Nearly every morning.”
“But I couldn’t remember eating it or what it tasted like.” My eyes widened, and I glanced back to the counter. “Do they have bacon? Oh my God, I must have bacon.”
“Not on Wednesdays,” Rita said.
“So let’s go out. What are the good breakfast places around here?”
Delia and Rita exchanged looks.
“It’s a little soon, don’t you think?” Delia said. “You had surgery less than a week ago.”
I glanced a table over, at Mr. Webb and his dented head. Then at Ms. Willis who had a hard time holding her utensils. She looked up and gave me a faltering smile. I smiled back though I suddenly felt like crying.
Delia’s cell phone rang in her purse and she rose to answer it.
“How are we doing?” Rita asked. She glanced at my tray. “Not hungry all of a sudden?”
“I feel all over the place,” I said. “I want to head for the front door and keep running. That’s the grief, partly. Like I could escape it if I just went somewhere else.”
Rita nodded, listening intently.
“But also, and this is going to sound horrible…” I lowered my voice. “I’m better.”
Rita glanced around just as Ms. Willis dropped her spoon for the fifth time.
“Not better like superior,” I said quickly. “Literally better. I’m not sick. I don’t belong here anymore.”
“I understand, hon, but it’s only been a few days. Dr. Milton’s procedure is brand new. Not just for you but the entire medical community. The long-term results aren’t yet known.”
“All the more reason for me to get the hell out of here.”
“And do what? Where would you like to go?”
“New York City.”
“That’s a little too much to ask for right now. We need to keep you close. In the event of complications.”
I pursed my lips and buried my disappointment. Rita was a sweet woman and a friend, but she was a medical professional, first.
“Can I at least go shopping for some new clothes?” I indicated the drab outfit. “I mean… Loafers? Really?”
“You can’t leave the premises, honey.”
“Why not? I want to go shopping. Not leave the country. I’ve lost two years. I don’t want to waste one more second.”
She bit her lip, thinking. “Maybe I can get Dr. Chen to allow a short trip if I go with you.”
“A short trip, where?” Delia asked, resuming her seat.
“To the mall,” I said. “Any mall. This wardrobe, Deel?”
“I told you, I’ve been managing our money. High fashion wasn’t a top priority.”
“Clearly,” I said with a laugh and an eye-roll.
“It’s too soon,” Delia said.
“I think Dr. Chen will sign off if I go with her,” Rita said.
“Today?” I said.
“We’ll see,” Rita said, rising. “I’ll go check with her and get your belongings from the safe too.”
“Thanks, Rita. You’re the best.” I felt Delia’s eyes on me. “What?”
“If she says yes, we’re not blowing a ton of money on clothes.”
“Your idea of a ton of money is vastly different from mine,” I said. “Speaking of, how are you affording this place? Insurance? Or has healthcare had a miraculous turnaround in the last two years and everyone’s finally learned we need to take care of each other?”
My sister sipped her tea. “Mom and Dad had an insurance policy, making us the beneficiaries.”
“Oh.” I sat back in my chair. “How much?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You have to say. They were my parents too.”
“I don’t want you to get the idea that you don’t need to be careful with money anymore.”
I crossed my arms. “I wasn’t irresponsible before the accident. I was going to college. Saving up for New York. I’m not a completely lost cause.”
“One million dollars,” she said as if I’d pried the words out of her mouth.
My jaw dropped. “A million? Between the two of us?”
“Each.”
“Holy shit.” I sat back in my chair. “That’s a lot of shoes.”
“I had no idea how much care you would need,” Delia said, “long-term or otherwise so I’ve been careful. Stretching it out to make it last as long as possible. Insuranc
e only goes so far.”
“Here we go,” Rita said, returning. She laid my wallet on the table in front of me, then hesitated. “I have your cell phone too. But…”
“But what?”
“I need to prepare you. It’s damaged from the accident.” She handed me the phone and a cord. “You can charge it at that outlet on the wall to see if it still works.”
The face of the phone was cracked, and dried blood was smeared across the home button. I couldn’t remember the accident, yet I held it in my hand, like a clairvoyant, holding an object and gleaning the truth from it.
With shaking hands, I plugged the phone in. We waited in silence for it to come back to life.
“It’s back,” I said as the screen came on. “Cracked and bloodied, but it’s still here.”
Like me.
Memories turned on in my mind with the phone. Texts with my friends, silly apps, and my music. God, my music was there. And photos.
I dipped my napkin in my water glass and gently wiped the blood away, then hit the photo icon. The last photo my phone took came up. Mom and Dad, Delia in her cap and gown, and me in a pink dress with paint splatters across the front. Tears blurred my vision.
“Look, Deel. It’s us. All of us.” I turned the phone’s cracked face to my sister. “Your graduation,” I said. “We were so… ourselves that day. I was aggravating you. Mom and Dad were so proud. And you were rushing us out the door so we wouldn’t be late.”
Delia looked away, blinking hard. “I should’ve been in that car.”
I dropped the phone in my lap. “No. No, don’t think that. Ever.”
She didn’t meet my eye, and I reached over and touched her hand.
“Hey. I know it’s been hard for you, dealing with everything alone. But I’m only awake because you took care of me. And if there’s one thing me waking up has taught me, is to be grateful for everything. Every minute. I’m so grateful for you, Delia.”
She nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Thea. Thank you.”
I tapped my chin. “It was Richard… No, Roger. Roger Nye. He’s the reason you weren’t in that car. If he were here, I’d give him a huge hug. Where is he now? What’s he been doing? What have you been doing? God, I don’t even know. I’ve been so wrapped up in—”
“You’ve been wrapped up in getting better,” Delia said. “And that’s exactly what you should be doing. Not running out the door the first chance you get.”
Delia hadn’t run away, though she could have at any time. She could’ve left thinking I’d have forgotten all about her, but she stayed.
I reached over and hugged her. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” she said and extracted herself from me. Back in Business Mode. “Well. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go shopping.”
Dr. Chen gave me the okay to go to the Westfield Mall at Roanoke, provided Rita was there and we took the medical van with the driver on standby. The staff had already made a medic-alert bracelet for me and Rita clasped it to my wrist as we left Blue Ridge.
“Wearer of this bracelet may appear disoriented or confused,” I read off the silver band. “If found, please call 911. If found? Like I’m a lost puppy?”
“It’s a smart precaution,” Delia said.
I didn’t argue. Precaution was Delia’s middle name, and the doctors had to protect me in the event their medication failed. But the bracelet felt heavy and pessimistic. The medication wasn’t going to fail. And if it did, all the more reason to get out in the world and not sit around a sanitarium waiting for the ax to fall.
At the outdoor mall in Roanoke, I found some better clothes at H&M—colorful peasant blouses, cut-off jean shorts, off-the-shoulder shirts. Delia insisted on finding sales and paying with a special card that accessed my life insurance bank account.
I started to tell her I could pay myself. At the time of the accident, I had over three thousand dollars in savings.
But is it still there?
I planned to wear my new clothes out of the store. In the fitting room, I ditched the khakis forever and changed into cut-off shorts and a green tank top with embroidered yellow daisies on the front. I slipped my wallet into a new, colorful Boho-style stitched bag, wondering if the cards still worked. If my driver’s license was expired. Can I drive again? Be independent again?
Suddenly I was desperate to know my money was there. Not the million from the insurance policy—that was too much and felt more like Delia’s. The three thousand dollars was mine.
“I want to hit American Eagle and Urban Outfitters next,” I said. “But first I need a Wetzel’s pretzel like nobody’s business.”
Rita fanned herself with her hand. “And a lemonade.”
We took our food to an outside table under a large yellow umbrella, and I spied an ATM near the bathrooms down a corridor.
“I gotta pee,” I said, grabbing my bag. “B-R-B.”
“Someone should go with you,” Delia said.
“Nah,” I said casually and popped a pretzel bite in my mouth. Salt and breaded goodness made me close my eyes in ecstasy. “Lord, Wetzel’s knows their shit.” I patted Delia on the top of her head. “I’ll be back in five or you can send the SWAT.”
Without waiting for her permission, I hurried toward the bathrooms. Instead of going inside, I went to the ATM just around the corner and jammed my bank card in. For a half a second, I panicked when it asked for my PIN and then it came to me.
“Keep doing your thing, Hazarin,” I muttered, then let out a little cry of joy. My card worked and my bank balance showed more than I thought. Nearly four thousand dollars.
Plenty.
I don’t know what I had “plenty” of money for, only that hell would ice over before Delia gave me access to the money our parents left me. At least not yet. And I couldn’t wait for that day to come.
I couldn’t wait one more day for anything.
I slipped my card in my wallet, the wallet in my bag, and headed back to Rita and Delia.
“Ready?” I asked. “Time to shop.”
We went into Urban Outfitters where I tried on a low-cut sundress in white with little laces at the bodice.
“Pretty sexy,” Delia said. “Where do you plan on wearing that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a date.”
“With whom? You don’t know anyone.”
Jimmy Whelan popped immediately into my thoughts, making my skin shiver pleasantly. “Yes, I do,” I said, almost to myself.
Rita’s face turned pink as she riffled through a rack of denim jackets. Delia’s eyes widened.
“Who?” she asked. “God, don’t tell me you mean that orderly?”
“That orderly?” I said. “Elitist, much? Yes, I mean Jimmy. We’re friends but… who knows what could happen? And who cares about his job? He could be a janitor at a nudie club for all I care.”
“Jesus, Thea.”
“It wouldn’t change who he is.”
“And who is he to you?”
I shrugged, swaying the dress’s skirt side to side in the mirror. “I don’t know. A friend, for sure. My best friend, all things considered.” The girl in the mirror smiled and her cheeks turned pink. “Maybe more.”
“More?” Delia stared. “How can he be more? You don’t know him.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “I didn’t meet him for the first time the other day. He’s been taking care of me for weeks.”
“How do you know?”
“I remember, Deel. I remember him.”
She sniffed and perused a rack of blouses, but I’d been turning thoughts and feelings about Jimmy around and around and needed to let them out. To hear how they sounded outside of my own head and heart.
“There’s something about Jimmy that I really connect with. He’s the only one who understood I was still in there. No judgment,” I added for Rita’s sake. “I just… I don’t know, I feel comfortable with him. Like I’ve known him forever. Not gonna lie, it doesn’t hurt that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
<
br /> Rita coughed, and a pleasant, zingy panic shot through me. I whirled on her.
“Oh my God, you cannot go reporting to Jimmy anything that is spoken here,” I said, laughing. “Girl code, Rita. Girl code.”
“I am sworn to secrecy,” she said, laughing.
“What do you have against him, anyway?” I asked my sister. “He saved me. In case you’ve decided to forget, he’s the one who stopped that man…” I gave myself a shake as gooseflesh broke out over my skin, this time cold and unwanted.
Rita put her hand on my arm. “Are you ready to talk about that night?”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Not going to let that asshole ruin my day.” I heaved a sigh. “As I was saying, Jimmy’s a good man. One of the best.”
Delia snorted. “I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any man who would take so much interest in a girl who had no way of speaking for herself or making decisions.”
“I remember him, Deel,” I said again. “I had a way of speaking for myself, through my drawings, and he saw it.” I gave her a pointed look. “And now I can actually speak for myself and make decisions. You’re going to have to get used to that.”
My sister looked ready to argue when her phone rang again. She put it to her ear and turned away from us. “Hi,” she said, her voice soft. Over her shoulder, she caught us watching her and made a face, then walked to the other end of the store.
“What do you think, Rita?” I asked, twirling in the mirror. “Am I crazy to feel anything about Jimmy? Not that I do. I mean… I don’t know how I feel. Not exactly. Except that when I look at myself in this dress, there’s a part of me that wants to buy it and wear it for him. Be pretty for him. And another part that wants to put it on just so he can tear it off me.”
Holy shit, where did that come from?
Rita’s eyes met mine in the mirror, identical expressions of shock on our faces. My skin flushed red against the white dress.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Girl code, Rita. Girl. Code. But you know what? I’m not even embarrassed.”
Turned on? Yes. Embarrassed? Not so much.
“I’m alive. I’m here. And I want to live. That means everything, you know? All the experiences I’ve missed out on.” I lowered my voice confidentially. “I’m talking about sex, here, Rita.”
