Chapter 21 Peggy
Bumpy, shaking. Rough.
My bones.
Where am I?
Cold.
Shivering all over.
So dark I cannot see in front of me.
“Stay with me, Peggy,” she says. “Keep talking to me. Stay awake, Peggy.”
Darkness.
Silence; on and off.
Inside an ambulance. The ceiling. Sirens.
“What did she swallow?”
Voices. Drew. Where is Sammy? Where is my boy?
Something cold in my arm, rushing through it.
Sleep. Dark, heavy sleep.
Bleeping.
I must try to stay awake. Is this the same day? Where am I?
Fade to darkness.
Cold, so very cold.
“What?” I scream. “What? Please! Help!”
The tube is pushed down into my mouth, down my throat. Deeper. I fight. They push it in. I squirm. They are trying to kill me. I buck. Can’t see properly. Can’t talk. I convulse and punch out at them. They hold me down and they force me.
Scratch.
“Just a little more, honey. Easy. Just a little more.”
Is it him?
Black circles.
Quiet.
Coughing. A long corridor. Bleeping. Lights on and off. Time not working anymore, not making any sense.
“You’re very sick, Peggy,” she says. “We are here for you.”
I try to focus, to sit up, to move away.
I can’t.
I can’t speak.
So cold. Weak. Can’t feel my own feet. My scalp is on fire. I cannot breathe. Pain in my throat.
“Sammy?”
Cold arms.
There is nobody here for me.
Bleeping.
I try to sit up.
“There you go, Peggy. How are you feeling now? Can you hear me, dear?”
Hazy.
Asleep. I feel asleep. Maybe I am asleep.
I reach out and hold her wrist. Warmth. Soft skin. Something alive.
“That’s it, dear. I’m right here.”
The throbbing intensifies. Rings of pain behind my eyes. Layers of those rings.
“Take it slowly, Peggy. I’m here to help you. You’re in the hospital and we’re taking real good care of you.”
I squint at her.
“Samson. My boy.”
“He’s here. He’s safe with your husband. You’ll see him very soon.”
I nod and shrink tighter within myself. I cannot feel my fingers. What happened?
“Sammy. Please.”
“I’ll go see if I can fetch him. I won’t be long.”
Hospital. Curtains moving back and forth. Plastic jug of water but I can’t focus on it. Hazy. I sit up straighter. No strength. Another nurse in the distance sits watching me. Hospital gown. Socks.
I was on the boat.
Sammy.
We were going out someplace.
On the other side of the curtain a man says, “Triage.”
I see a triangle in my mind. Our family.
What went wrong?
The nurse comes back. Neat uniform. Black hair.
“They’re coming through in a minute,” she says. “Peggy, I said they’re coming through. Your son is coming.”
“I’m so scared,” I whisper.
“I know you are, dear. I’m here to help you. I’m not leaving.”
I am so scared.
The curtains sway in the wind as someone is wheeled past. Noise. Orderlies. Commotion. Worried voices. Raised voices.
I touch the needle taped to my hand.
“Just leave that be,” she says.
The curtain twitches.
A hand I have known since the moment it was created.
Muddy shoes.
Red hair in tufts.