Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
“Oh my God! She’s awake!” Amber exclaims as I open my eyes. She tackles me where I’m lying, where I’m blinking my eyes to adjust to the sunlight.
“It’s been so long,” Mo says, taking my hand. “We’ve missed you. Let me go grab your mom.”
I start to protest. I don’t want to see my mother. And I don’t want Mo to leave. If she does, I’m terrified she won’t ever come back.
Leave me alone, she said.
“Mo!” I call out, my voice sounding weak to my own ears.
“She’s coming back,” Amber assures me. “God, we missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Before I can respond, Mom bursts into the room and she’s crying again. Silent tears stream down her face.
“Oh, honey” is all she says. “You’re back.”
I don’t know what to say to her. Don’t know what people know or if the news has broken yet.
“How’s Jason?” I ask as she hugs me.
“Jason is fine. He’s on his way,” Mom says.
And right on time, Jason sprints into the room and to my side. “Babe. I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, teary-eyed.
I blink at him, at my hand in his. Is he pretending?
How is he standing, walking, when he was taking his last breaths the last time I saw him?
“When…How long have you been awake?” I ask, not sure where to put my hand on his neck or head or hair. I pat him uncertainly.
Jason moves back to see my face. “You mean this morning? Well, we had practice, so maybe five o’clock?”
“You went to practice?” I’m incredulous. I sit up straighter to see his leg. The cast is entirely gone, and I didn’t notice a limp when he ran in.
“Of course,” he says. “I had to. Who would play my position? A sub?”
He chuckles at the absurdity.
I shake my head, frustrated at his inability to understand me. “No, I mean, when did you wake up? From the coma?”
Jason gives an uncomfortable laugh. Mo and Amber exchange glances, and Mom steps forward again. “Maybe you should just rest. Mona, can you grab Nurse Patrick?”
“Sure,” Mo says, hurrying out of the room.
“I am pretty tired,” I concede now. My head hurts and my body aches like it’s been through a battle.
I’m falling asleep when a chatty male nurse comes in. He tinkers with my IV line, checks my blood pressure, medications.
When I wake up next, it’s with the pressing urge to pee. I know from when I got my appendix out how to maneuver my IV stand, so I’m able to get out of bed and drag it with me. I’m halfway to the bathroom when my legs give way.
The nurse comes running as I hit the ground. “Hey, Zadie! Out of bed so soon? We were going to give those legs a chance to get stronger.”
I look at him in confusion. “I run track,” I say. I don’t appreciate being told my legs look weak. And yes, it’s the offseason, but I’ve kept running consistently.
The nurse chuckles, then helps me the rest of the way to the bathroom. He gives me privacy and talks from outside the door as I pee, stand, and very slowly, very carefully make it to the sink.
As soon as the water starts running, he’s on my case again. He opens the door to “help” me. But I’m focused on the reflection in the mirror. I look haggard. A massive bandage on my head. Fading bruises on my face.
“What happened to my head?” I ask.
“You were in a little accident,” Nurse Patrick says.
He helps me get back in bed.
Later that afternoon, during visiting hours, I ask Jason the most important question. “What happened? How are you fine?”
What happened to me?
“What do you remember?” Jason asks, and I know him well enough to know he’s being careful.
There’s something he doesn’t want me to say out loud.
The breakup? It’s a good thing we’re on the same page about that, but what I want to know about is when he nearly died in the hospital.
I need to understand how he’s okay, how he’s here.
“You couldn’t walk. You were about to die, and they were shocking you and your mom was here and your dad was there, and everyone was crying…”
Jason looks at my mom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zadie. Did you have a dream or something?”
I nearly laugh.
A dream. Hilarious.
“It wasn’t a dream,” I say.
Three bewildered faces are staring at me.
I switch tacks, turn to Mo. “Are you still mad at me?”
Mo is wide-eyed. “Me? Why would I be mad at you?”
“For…” I’m suddenly not sure how comfortable she is with me talking about what we discussed in front of everyone, so I just say, “Yesterday. At your house?”
Mom touches my face, more tenderly than she ever has. “Honey, you were in a coma yesterday,” she says. “And the day before. And the day before that.”
“You’ve been in a coma for weeks,” Amber says. “We were so scared.”
Now I’m seriously confused. “Is this a joke? I’m fine. Jason was the one in a coma.” I search their faces for any signs of laughter, but not one of them even comes close to breaking. “He’s been in a coma for…” I count the weeks. “Four weeks.”
Jason’s laugh must be one of confusion. “I don’t think so, Zad. I’ve been right here. Waiting for you to wake up.”
I sit up straighter, because this is getting seriously ridiculous. “Do you guys think this is funny or something? Jason had a head injury. Jason nearly died.”
“No,” Mo says, “you nearly died.”
I open my mouth to argue, but one more look at their faces and I know. They think they’re right.
“I don’t have a head inj—” I start to argue, but then I realize…I do. Or did.
But that was a temporary thing, something that triggered the migraines and dreams. I’m fine now. I haven’t had a real headache in…How long has it been? How long have I been in this hospital?
“I haven’t had a headache since Mrs. R asked me to come and see Jason,” I say. “That was the last one I had.”
“Mrs. R?” Mom repeats.
Jason frowns. “My parents have been on a cruise for the last two weeks.”
“They went on a cruise?” I can’t even fathom the heartlessness of parents doing that while their kid is in hospital, unconscious. And here I thought they adored him beyond anything. “God, I’m sorry, Jay.”
“Zadie,” Jason says carefully. “Do you remember the accident?”
“Of course I do.” Even answering the question feels pointless to me, but I do it anyway.
“We were coming back from the dinner where…” I swallow.
Jason shifts where he’s standing. He doesn’t want me to say it any more than I want to say it.
Funny how I can suddenly read him. Now, after he’s screwed me over and there’s nothing left of us.
“We were coming back from our anniversary dinner, and Jason, you suddenly braked, I think? And that caused a four-car pileup.”
Mom and Amber are nodding, so I go on confidently. “Which put Jason in a coma for a month, and gave me a slight head injury. I remember everything.”
They are all wearing the same look, a mixture of pity, fear, and concern. I start to pull out more facts that everybody knows. “We were working on college apps. I decided to take a gap year. Amber, you decided to apply to UMaine as well. Mom, you resigned, and Marcus played Jason’s position. And…”
I freeze.
Marcus.
My heart pinches.
I so desperately want to see him, to touch him.
“Where’s Marcus?” I ask.
“He came out of it before you did, thank God,” Jason says.
I’m back to being confused again. “Came out of what?”
“Marcus was also in a coma,” Amber says. “The three of you were in the crash—you and Jason, and then Marcus was in his truck, two cars behind.”
“Jason got a little roughed up,” Mom says, “but he’s been okay. We’ve been waiting for both you and Marcus to wake up.”
“Let me get this straight: You want me to believe I’ve been in a coma while all of you have been awake? And Jason has been awake all this time, but Marcus has been asleep?”
“Unconscious,” Mo says, trying to use precise terminology.
“Do you understand how ridiculous—how unbelievable—that sounds?”
“You have to know that it sounds even less believable for us,” Mom says, “that you feel you’ve been awake. I mean, on what planet would you take a gap year?”
Mom calls in my neurologist.
“Explain to her why she’s confused,” she orders.
The doctor, a bald man in his forties, starts to ramble, something about how coma patients can often hear and interact with the world mentally even when they’re unconscious.
“REM intrusion theory proposes that the brain can live in this hybrid state of being awake and sleeping, so it could be something like that going on,” he says.
“We don’t know nearly enough about comas or sleep, if I’m being honest. But as for what you remember, you probably overheard a lot of conversations and mixed in fantasy with reality. ”
Partway through, I look at Mom and Jason, and they’re eating the whole thing up. Mo will buy anything someone in a white coat sells her, but Amber? Her usually unmovably supportive face is slack, worried.
And that’s the point where I stop fighting.
They won’t believe me no matter what I say.
It’s their word against mine, the four of them a united front. But I do have one more ally, the person who has witnessed my life, witnessed with me the start and end of Jason’s and my relationship, the only proof I have that it happened: Marcus.
“Can I talk to him?” I ask after the neurologist leaves. “Can I talk to Marcus?”
Jason looks hesitant. “You want to talk to my cousin? Sure, but…I don’t know that it will help anything. You know how he can be.”
“Yeah, I do,” I say, trying to keep my voice in check. “I know exactly how he can be.”
“I’ll tell him you want to see him,” Jason says.
I try to text Marcus, but I can’t find our message thread. Our conversations are gone. It’s like we’ve never spoken in our lives before. Could everyone be right that the last month just didn’t happen?
“That’s impossible,” I whisper to myself. Clearly, my phone glitched out at some point. The timing is suspect, but the only other option is that someone purposely deleted some conversations off my phone. I don’t think anyone would do that.
* * *
Mo and Amber show up with home-baked goods for me the next day.
“We’ve missed you like crazy,” Ambs says. “I hope you get that you’re crucial to us.”
“You know you said almost the exact same thing to me in the…after Jason’s accident.” Amber blinks in confusion, and Mo frowns. “I mean our accident.”
The conversation is stilted and awkward, like they are afraid to hear my version of reality.
“How’s your app?” I ask Mo.
She beams. “It’s coming along really well.”
“I like the name,” I say. “Zebra.”
It’s a tiny flex. How would I know the name of her app if I wasn’t there when she came up with it? If I’ve been unconscious all this time?
“It’s called Stripes,” Mo says, “but Zebra’s cool too. I’ll write that down.”
Disappointment feels like something heavy pulling me to the bottom of a well.
I try again with Amber. “You changed your mind about going to CIA in New York.” Before she can answer, my voice turns pleading. “See? I knew that because I’ve been here. I’ve been awake.”
Amber can’t hide the fact that she feels bad for me. “Actually, I talked to you about it while you were sleeping. Saying it out loud helped me make the decision.”
Oh.
I frown as I stare down at the starchy hospital bedsheets.
Ambs squeezes my arm. “It’s okay,” she says. “Nobody thinks you’re lying.”
“But you think I’m crazy,” I say.
“You heard what Dr. Chukwu said. All the stuff people were saying to you while you were unconscious somehow worked its way into your mind,” Mo says. “Of course you remember things.”
It’s the most depressing explanation she could have given me, because it means that they still don’t believe I lived it. They don’t believe the last four weeks have been real.
I can’t convince them, but if I can just talk to Marcus, I know everything will start to make sense.