Chapter 3
three
. . .
Eden
Someone is saying my name.
Not loud, but constant, like they are calling to me down a long tunnel.
“Eden.”
I surface slowly, dragging myself up from the thick, murky darkness of sleep. My head throbs the second I open my eyes, a dull pressure squeezing behind them like hands pressing in from both sides.
“Hi,” a woman says softly.
The holiday reindeer scrubs and name tag give away her occupation. She has kind eyes and radiates a different energy than the last three nurses who have come in to wake me up.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Eden Hale,” I croak.
“Good. Do you have any dizziness or nausea?”
“No, not right now.”
I shift slightly, and my body screams at me as if to remind me of the fact.
“Would you like some water?” I nod. “Here you go.”
She holds out the cup with a straw, and I take a couple of sips, but it feels like glass sliding down my throat.
She smiles gently as she sets the cup aside and continues with her questions.
“Eden, do you know what day it is?”
I hesitate. My brain stutters.
“Sunday…I think.”
“Close enough. It’s Monday now, but only one in the morning,” she says with a smile, jotting something down. “Any discomfort?”
“My head feels…loud,” I admit. “Like a construction crew is inside of it with jackhammers.”
“I’m sorry for waking you up, but we need to monitor the circulation in your arm,” she says as she hangs a new bag of what I think is an antibiotic.
I look away. Just her touching it makes me think of the bone sticking out all over again. When she steps back, I notice the other bed. Felix is lying there sound asleep.
He’s turned on his side, one arm over the edge, his face smooshed into the pillow as if he collapsed onto the mattress. His white hair is a mess, face slack with obvious exhaustion. There’s a faint crease between his brows, like he’s bracing for something. Maybe we both are. I know I am.
Something in my chest tightens when he softly snores. He stayed.
The nurse follows my gaze and smiles.
“You’ve got quite the doting boyfriend,” she says, patting my shoulder.
Boyfriend. The word echoes and bounces around in my head like a pinball machine. I don’t correct her. I don’t say anything at all. It’s probably the only reason they have allowed him to remain in here with me. It’s greedy of me, but I don’t want him to leave.
Instead, a warmth spreads through my chest, tangled painfully with guilt, gratitude, and something dangerously close to comfort.
“He hasn’t left your side unless forced to,” she adds. “I’m going to step out and grab the doctor. Try to rest again for a bit.”
She slips out of the room quietly.
Felix stirs a few seconds later as if he senses someone. His eyes open slowly, then focus on me. They are intense and not just the shade of blue, but the pull I feel toward him. He’s drawing me in, or maybe analyzing me. It’s hard to tell.
“You’re awake,” he says, already sitting up. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” I murmur.
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“That is trucks with an S.”
I swallow.
“Seems like you got some sleep.”
“Guess I did.” He rubs his face.
“Thank you…for keeping me company. I don’t have any family in the province other than my parents.”
When I glance out the window, I see the first hint of dawn. The sky has gone from black to purple.
“I don’t even know where we are.”
Felix looks away, suddenly focused on nothing in particular.
“You’re welcome, but you don’t need to thank me,” he says with a shrug. “I promised I wouldn’t disappear.”
The way he says the last word pulls at my stomach. Felix points to a symbol on the wall.
“We’re at Saint Jude’s Hospital.”
I nod. We must have been closer to home than I thought. The medical center is only twenty minutes from my house.
“Where is your family?”
He’s been here with me this whole time, and no one is here for him.
“My dad is in prison. He’s a class act. My mom died a little over a year ago from a heart attack.
And my brother…” he stops and clears his throat.
“He didn’t make it,” he says, his eyes dropping to the floor.
“We were on our way back from visiting my uncle when the crash happened.” He stops and pinches the bridge of his nose as tears run down his cheeks.
“I knew he was gone, but I still went looking for help. That’s when I found you. ”
I reach for him, and he grips my hand like I’m the only thing keeping him steady.
“Oh Felix, I’m so sorry.”
The tears start again. We are both alone, lost our families, and only have each other.
“You should’ve stayed with your brother instead of coming with me,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“You needed me, and there was nothing I could do for him.”
The door opens before we can say anything else.
The doctor, recognizable from his lab-like coat and blue scrubs, marches in with a police officer and a woman I don’t recognize. The doctor is all business, face stern as he stares at his tablet.
He stands beside my bed and, after a few more taps on his screen, meets my eyes.
I know what’s coming, and I swallow the lump in my throat as the other two stand nearby. They are staggered as if that will avoid overwhelming me.
“Eden, I’m Doctor Walker,” he says gently. “Are you feeling well enough to speak with us?”
I nod, gripping the sheet.
“I’ll start with your injuries.”
He’s direct but seems nice enough. He uses big words to relay the same information I got from Felix.
“Recovery won’t be easy, but you’re young and in good health. I’ll give you a referral for physiotherapy and have my office follow up with you in the next few days. You can choose a physical therapy close to home.”
He pauses.
“There’s something else we need to discuss,” he says carefully.
Here it is, the part I am dreading the most. My body tenses, hand fisting the sheet. My next breath stills as I wait for the blow.
“Your parents died at the scene.”
Even though I knew it, felt it, saw it…him confirming my worst fear still doesn’t feel real. The words slide off me as if they belong to someone else. I just stare into his eyes, wanting him to take it back.
Felix is suddenly beside me. His hand finds mine, and our fingers twine together as I’m introduced to the social worker.
I don’t hear anything the woman says. The police officer places a bag on my table.
There in the clear plastic is what’s left of my family from the crash.
Three cellphones, a wallet, a purse, my mini backpack, Dad’s watch, and their wedding rings.
All I can do is stare. They really are gone.
I slowly shake my head as they all leave the room.
“Do you want me to take you for a walk later,” Felix asks softly, like he’s afraid of startling me. “The nurse said a short walk is good for you.”
“Can we go now?”
All I want to do is run away from this hospital.
“I need to move. I need to get out of this bed. I need…” I gulp in a mouthful of air, but my ribs scream at me.
Felix sits on the edge of my bed and grips my hand tighter.
“Not right now. But we will. I promise. Tell me something about yourself.”
I look away, annoyed that he won’t help me and hating that I can’t escape on my own.
“Why don’t I tell you about me? I’m an artist and have my own tattoo studio. I dropped out of college when my mother died to focus on building my business and to look after my brother. Also, I drink far too many energy drinks.”
My lip twitches.
“What was your brother like?” His face falls, and he looks down at our hands. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Sam, was only fifteen and when he was little also my best friend. Annoyingly positive about everything. He loved to skateboard with me, even when I didn’t want him to. And he always got great grades in school. He was the complete opposite of me.”
My heart hurts for him, and his pain gives me something else to focus on.
“It’s going to be okay. I’m here for you,” I say, and he smiles.
Felix chats softly while I rest, but most of it goes in one ear and out the other. His voice is nice and helps me rest. The ache in my chest loosens just enough for me to take a deep breath.
This is what’s not described when you hear that someone has been in an accident or lost a loved one. The lingering sensation that blankets everything. Every thought, every breath is taken up by the what-ifs and the future that now looks bleak and void of anything good.
The nurse returns a few more times to check on me.
By eight-thirty, I’m done being asked the same questions, and I need to pee.
Felix watches while the nurse helps me stand and make my way into the bathroom.
She stays with me. The agony I feel trying to move my body is the only reason this experience isn’t completely mortifying.
As soon as the nurse opens the bathroom door, Felix is there waiting.
He reaches for me.
“I’ve got her,” the nurse says, shifting her grip slightly when Felix doesn’t move back.
His eyes lock on where she’s holding me, worry etched deep into his expression.
“I know,” he says quickly. “It’s just…Eden still gets dizzy. I don’t want her hurting herself worse.”
The nurse gives him a look. “She’ll be okay.”
Something flickers across his face too fast for me to fully place before he steps aside.
I glance between them, confused by the strange tension suddenly filling the room. It almost feels like Felix is upset with her for helping me.
“Can I go for a walk now?”
“No, you’re too unstable, and we don’t have crutches for you yet,” she says sweetly. “I can get you a wheelchair if you really want a change of scenery.”
My face falls, but Felix smiles.
“That’s perfect. I’ll push you. It will at least get you out of the room,” he offers.
With a sigh, I nod. The nurse leaves me on Felix’s bed until she returns with the chair. Once I’m seated, Felix pushes me out into the hall.
“My nineteenth birthday is in three weeks. I always hated that it was on Christmas Day, and now…now, I don’t know.”
Felix doesn’t say anything, and I appreciate that. We make our way slowly down the long hallway and then turn the corner at the end. I look longingly at the exit sign as if leaving here will solve all my problems. Logically, I know that’s not true.
“A day ago, I was excited about going to university. Today I’m thinking about my parents’ funeral and physiotherapy. I don’t even know if my parents would want anything specific for the service or have insurance on the house and car. I know none of their finances.”
I close my eyes, and all I can picture is walking into an empty home.
Felix leans close to my ear.
“Don’t worry about that right now, and if you need help with anything, I’ve got you,” he whispers.
“You barely know me.”
“That doesn’t matter, Eden. I’m here, and I want to be.”
“Does it hurt?”
“My foot?”
“Yeah.”
“Mildly, but I’ll be fine. I’m not going to leave you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says, and I soak up the warmth from his hand when he touches my shoulder.
“Okay.”
I glance up at him, realizing that he is no longer wearing an ugly, bare-your-ass gown.
“How did you score the scrubs?”
He smirks, then chuckles, but doesn’t answer. Is he protecting a secret?
“More importantly, can you smuggle me some?”
“Who says I haven’t?”
That makes me smile.
We must look like such a pair. Felix with his cast, limping along as he pushes me in a wheelchair.
As we pass the nurses’ station, the television hanging on the wall catches my attention. I freeze.
Footage from the crash fills the screen. My heart jumps as the helicopter flies overhead, showing the scene from above. A snow-covered road. Twisted metal. Emergency lights flashing violently against the dark. There are so many cars and trucks that I lose count. I suck in a shuddering breath.
“There,” I whisper and point.
Felix follows my gaze.
The camera zooms in on a silver sedan, barely recognizable, but I know it instantly.
“That’s their car,” I say, my voice breaking. “That’s my parents’ car.”
The world caves in around me.
I sob and the sound tears out of my chest like something ripped loose. Felix is suddenly holding me, and I lean into his arms.
“I saw them,” I cry. “I tried to wake them. I tried—”
“I know,” he says, hugging me tighter. “I know. I’m going to take you back to the room.”
I’m too lost in my grief to care about anything, including the stabbing pain in my chest. The sobs wrack my body, as hands help me back to bed. This is not the kind of agony that fades. It is the kind that settles into your bones and stays forever.
I close my eyes, but the images don’t stop.
There is cruelty in remembering.
The way joy returns only to remind you of everything it took with it when it left.