Wide Awake (4 page)

"We brought you here a couple weeks after the accident. We wanted round-the-clock care and support, something the hospital couldn't offer. Mason was here from day one. He's been helping you ever since. He's been so great." She smiled affectionately. "I figured he'd get tired of us coming here every day, but he always greeted us warmly."
I nodded. "And the boss doctor guy?"
My dad's lips pursed. "He's not the easiest man to get along with, but this was the only facility that we could drive to every day and we didn't want to risk sending you further away."

I nodded again and licked my lips. I felt tired beyond belief, but wasn't it rude to go to sleep when they'd just gotten there, and all the grief I'd put them through this past week? My mom must've known, because before I knew what was going on, she was kissing my father goodbye and he was waving and telling me he'd be back later.

She on the other hand started her primping session.

With me.

She told me to lie down and relax, go to sleep, whatever, but she didn't let anyone bathe me but her this whole time. She had even shaved my legs for me every day and painted my toenails and fingernails, clipped my nails, and brushed out my hair. I didn't know whether to be extremely grateful, especially knowing that Mason had been touching those legs, or extremely grossed out. But she was my mom, so it shouldn't matter, right?

I did what she asked and laid my head to the pillow. To my awkward satisfaction she went to the bathroom, got what she needed, and began her ministrations. I actually fell asleep as she took the soapy cloth and ran it over my legs and feet. It was nice and soothing.

I didn't fight it when sleep knocked on the door. I just let it in.

Useless Fact Number Three

Mosquitoes smell with their feet.

I woke up to movement. I opened my eyes once more to find my bed being leaned down to lie flat. Mason smiled down at me. "Finally," he complained. "I was about to get the hose."

I squinted at him. "Are you joking?"

"I am totally joking." He grinned wider. "You're gonna stay funny for me, right? I'm all about the sarcasm."

"I'll try my hardest," I said as sarcastically as I could manage.

"Yes!" he said and pumped his fist. "Finally! Someone who can keep up with my witty repertoire."

"I've got six months' worth stock piled," I pointed to my head, "right here."

He laughed harder and then leaned down to pick my head up by my neck. "OK, seriously now, I'm going to remove the pillow," and he did so, "because I find it's best to do the exercises when you're flat on your back." He looked behind him and I noticed a man there for the first time. "This is Mr. Garner. He's the physical therapist I work under." He leaned in and whispered, "But honestly, I do all the work." I found myself smiling. "They came and did the blood test while you were sleeping, so we're ready to get started."

I looked up at him. In the movement of the air around me, I realized that I smelled different. I turned my head to sniff my shirt and found it clean with a hint of peppermint. I squinted. Did I even like peppermint? And I realized I had lipgloss on. Upon tasting it, I found it was cherry. I did like that, I could tell, because my tongue sneaked out to taste it again. I moved my gaze back to Mason.

"Are you done?" he teased.

I flushed. "Sorry. My mom gave me a…sponge bath, I guess."

"She does that every day before our session."

"She does?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "No better people than those two, let me tell you. They may be strangers to you, but I guarantee you, you have their unconditional love, no matter what."

"You're so…" I could think of nothing, so I stuck to sarcasm, "wise, Yoda."

He smirked. And I'd be lying if I said it didn't make my heart, which was just as much a stranger in my chest as anything else, beat a little faster.

"Mason," Mr. Garner said, looking up from his clipboard, "I've got to finish all this paperwork for the audit. Are you fine here alone?"

"Sure. Of course."

"Great." Mr. Garner looked at me. He was in his thirties, and tall and lanky. His head was quite large, which led me to hope his brain was large, too, if he was deciding my fate. "I'm so, so sorry. It was nice to meet you, but honestly, you'll see way more of Mason than me anyway. I run the entire therapy department and Mason is the best I've got so, you're in good hands."

I tried not to gulp at that statement. "No worries. Nice to meet you."

"And you, Miss Walker. Mason."

"Mr. G," Mason regarded and nodded at him before looking back at me. "All right, you, let's get to it, shall we?"

"What do I have to do?"

"At this point in the game?" He shrugged and lifted my foot in his hands. "Nothing. Little by little we'll start to add some strength exercises, but for now, I just want you to get a feel for your muscles."
He moved my foot up and down, side to side, then bent my knee in and out. At first, I watched in fascination, waiting for some miracle to burst through my skin and make me whole again. But when he switched legs, I knew that wasn't going to happen. So I lay back and was caught by something on the ceiling. "What's that?"

He glanced up to where I was looking. "Oh, that's your dragonflies. Your dad and I put those up."

"Why?"

"They were in your bedroom, so he said. He told me you loved them and if you woke up in the middle of the night, he wanted you to feel safe, like you were at home and it had all just been a bad dream."

I stared up at the dragonflies that I hadn't seen before. They glowed, I could tell. They had little sparkles on their wings. Me, a nineteen-year old girl, had dragonfly stickers on her ceiling? And my father — the man I didn't even know — had been so thoughtful and insightful to bring those up here for me…so I'd think it had all been a bad dream if I woke up in the middle of the night from my coma.

I felt the first tear slide down the side of my face and into my hairline. I didn't close my eyes, though. I just stared at the dragonflies; beautiful and silly, lovely, pointless and thoughtful.

I realized Mason had stopped moving my legs at some point. He watched my face and when I looked at him, he didn't smile. I looked back at the dragonflies and took a deep breath. "I'm scared. What if I don't ever remember? What if the girl he brought dragonflies to doesn't exist anymore?"

I heard his sympathetic sigh. He wiped a tear away with his finger before leaning down and taking a hard seat into the chair next to my bed. "Emma…I know you don't feel like it right now, but you're so lucky. Your parents love the crap outta you."

I chuckled and turned to find him smirking once more. "I can see that."

"Don't worry about tomorrow so much."

"Ok, Mr. Miyagi, what's next?"

He grinned. "Well, smarty pants. Wax on, wax off." He lifted my arm and moved it up and down, side to side, and around, bending it at the elbow. I just closed my eyes and let him finish everything he needed to do. I played rag doll very well apparently.

When he said he was done, he went to get my parents, who were waiting in the waiting room. I felt worse. Gah, it was like they
never
went home.

They came in and he was in the process of telling them all about my schedule for doing more progressive treatment when the door to my room opened. I looked over to find a guy there. He smiled at me so sweetly and looked so relieved— I thought for sure this must be my brother, Mitchell.

So I said so. "Mitchell?" Look at me trying to be quick and smart. But no, it wasn't Mitchell.

"No," he said and looked at my parents with anger. "You didn't even tell her I was coming by today?"

"I hadn't had the chance yet," my father argued. "Besides, I already told you that I didn’t think it was a good idea."

"Bullsh-" he stopped and sighed. "Nonsense, Mr. Walker." He smiled at me and I glanced at the flowers in his hands. "I know you hate flowers, but..." He came to the bedside and leaned in…
I jerked my face to the side to avoid his lips. I felt my brow bunch in confusion, but he was even more confused. "It's true?"

"What is?" I asked and then huffed a little. "Will you please back up a bit?"

He leaned back, hurt all over his face. "You really don't remember me?"

"I don't remember anyone," I countered. "It might help if you told me
who
you were."

He set the flowers on the bed and crossed his arms in a pouty motion. "I'm Andrew. You used to call me Andy, everybody does. I'm your… I
was
your boyfriend."

I looked at his face. He was thick in the way that football players and wrestlers were. In fact, he was even wearing a letter jacket. His hair was blonder than mine and his brown eyes begged me to remember him. I got nothing.

"My boyfriend," I tested the words and swallowed that down. "Look, I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

"Really, Emma?" he asked, almost angrily. "You don't remember me? You don't remember anything about us or your life or your friends? You don't...remember what happened the night of your accident?" I felt my eyebrows rise as he just waited. "Really?"

"Really," Mason answered. He had a scowl on his face and I wondered about it. "What part was it that you didn't get?"

"And who are you?"

"Her therapist."

"So you're not her doctor," Andrew…Andy said in a growly way. "So why don't you just get out of here and let me have some catch-up time with my girl."

"No," I found myself saying. The thought of them all leaving me alone with this guy that I didn't know was the most terrifying thing since I'd woken up.

"What do you mean 'no'?" He sulked and glared at me. "You really don't remember anything?" he asked again and seemed to be holding his breath. "Have your parents been talking to you about me?"

"What? No."

"Really?" he drawled in disbelief. "Then why are you being so cold to me, huh? You're glaring ice cubes."
"I don't know who you are!" I said loudly. "I don't remember anything!"

"I just didn't believe it," he mused and shook his head like he was disappointed. It was starting to be a running theme with the men in this room. "How could you forget everything that was
us
?"

Dad scoffed angrily. "You forgot pretty fast yourself, pal."

The uneasy silence that followed was telling. "What?" I questioned.

"I…" Andrew started. "I didn't think you were gonna wake up."

"What does that mean?"
"I started seeing someone else," he confessed, but continued quickly. Too quickly. "But I'm here now. I broke up with her as soon as I heard the news. On the TV, I might add, not from your parents, who
should
have called me. It's over now. We can pick up right where we left off," he said sweetly.

He acted like he was handing me a pretty little package instead of a heaping mess of sloppy seconds. I spoke soft and slow. "Look, like I said, I don't even remember you. I'm taking things slow, OK?"
"I understand, babykins."

I grimaced. "Babykins?" I muttered.

"That's your nickname, babe. I always called you that, especially when you..." The smile he tacked onto the little nickname had me wishing I'd never asked.