Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
The slow beep of a hospital monitor pulled Joan from the thickness of her dreams.
Her body obeyed her mind in little fits. Fingers twitching slowly, one by one, but only on her left hand. She pried open her eyes to a blurry room and that steady beep, beep.
It was a hospital room, but a nice one. Fancy, which was how she knew her family had gotten their hands on her. Her second clue was Molly, asleep in an armchair that had been pulled next to the bed.
Joan blinked. Her eyelids stuck, so maybe she fell back asleep again for a second, because when she finally opened them again, Molly was in a slightly different position.
Her hair was loose and frizzy around her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and she was in a college sweatshirt, HARVARD emblazoned across the front.
She looked so tired. Why did Molly look so tired?
In her haze, Joan took slow stock of her body.
She felt like she’d been strapped to the wheels of a plane during takeoff.
Her mouth tasted kind of rusty. Her right hand was wrapped in bandages, but her left one was free.
Joan painfully shifted her head on the pillow to look at her own monitor and noted with some satisfaction her blood pressure was excellent and her heart rate steady.
She wasn’t even sure why she was here. Had she had an accident?
She was still so sleepy though.
Another slow blink, too long.
There was no one in the room besides Molly. Joan turned her head back to look at her sister uncomfortably crammed in that chair. Her neck must hurt. But she was there anyways, and she’d been tired enough to fall asleep.
The blinds were drawn, but it was night. There was a vase of dahlias on the table, a riot of dazzling color. Beautiful. The thought was distant. A tear slipped from her eye at the radiance of their hue.
A last blink. There were stars imprinted on the backs of her eyelids.
She lost herself in them.