10. Mia
Chapter ten
Mia
The hospital corridor is completely empty, and like every other hospital I have ever been to, it has that eerie quality of being loud, but everything sounds so muffled it feels as if I should whisper. Will hangs back against the wall as I approach the nurses’ station to introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Mia. We’re here to visit Craig Hillcrest. I’m his sister.” The woman at the desk has dark hair and a professional, aloof smile. It’s weird introducing myself as Craig’s sister. I don’t feel like anyone's sister.
“Good timing, I’m Doctor Hunter, and I’ve been looking after Craig. You’ve happened to catch me in between things, so I’ve got a second to talk.” She is brisk, with one of those unplaceable European accents. She gestures toward the smaller blonde woman sitting behind her. “This is Colleen. She’s been Craig’s primary nurse since he arrived. Let’s grab a seat before I take you in,” Dr Hunter says, and leads us over to chairs opposite the nurses’ station.
I gesture to Will to follow. I need his support right now. Will’s chair is so close to mine that his shoulder presses against mine as I sit and fold my hands into my lap. Who's the limpet now?
“So, Mia, I’m not sure how much you know, but Craig was skiing and hit his head. He did everything right and was wearing a helmet, so he survived the knock to the head.” I take a deep breath. I haven’t thought much about the injury itself.
“Since about twenty-four hours after he arrived, where he did make some significant improvements, he’s remained in stable condition for the past five weeks,” the doctor continues.
“Stable? Stable’s good, right?” I ask.
She shakes her head, thin lips drawn into a straight line. “'Stable' simply means he hasn't gotten worse. Unfortunately, he also hasn’t shown any significant signs of improvement. He hasn’t regained consciousness since he arrived.”
I grasp Will’s hand tight, as if it's a lifeline. His hand is warm and comforting in mine as Dr Hunter and nurse Colleen talk us through what we can expect when we go into the room to see Craig.
Craig is lying on his back, a drip in the back of his hand and a slight hint of a yellowed bruise peeking out from the bandage wrapped around his head. Other than that, he looks perfectly healthy. I’m grateful the staff thought to warn me, so I’m not surprised by seeing his bandaged head. Someone has tucked the sheet and blanket neatly under his armpits, and his hands are laying by his side. His lightly lined face is relaxed, and he looks peaceful. Like he's sleeping.
Colleen follows us into Craig’s room and busies herself checking the monitor next to him. The whole time, she talks to him cheerfully, telling him everything she’s doing, first in accented English, then in French.
I catch Will’s eye. He shrugs. I look toward Colleen, who smiles.
“You’re wondering whether he can hear me? We’re not sure, but it does no harm, even if he can’t, does it?” She looks down at Craig’s body fondly. “I like to think if I was unconscious, someone would come talk to me, too.”
She smooths the already immaculate blankets and plumps the pillow, gently lifting and replacing Craig’s head. Taking one last look at him, she pushes back the thinning hair sticking out of the bottom of his bandage across his forehead.
“I’ll leave you two to it, but please just pop out back to the nurses’ station, or ring the call bell if you need something. Don’t feel self-conscious if you do want to talk to him.” She smiles down at him again. “I like to think it does good.”
Colleen gently pulls the door partly closed behind her.
I approach Craig’s bed. I’m not sure what I should do. I glance at Will, then introduce myself. I don’t get a reply obviously, so slowly reach out to touch Craig’s hand, not lingering. Will quietly pulls a chair from under the window and places it next to me. I nod in thanks. He lowers himself into a chair by the window, making an obvious effort not to hover.
I’m disappointed to find that instead of feeling natural, like it would be if I was visiting my parents in hospital, instead I feel uncomfortable and out of place, like a voyeur peering in on a stranger. I suppose, in reality, that’s exactly what this is.
I search Craig’s face for familiar features. My lips are more full than his, but is that my nose? I wonder what his eyes look like. So much of a person’s likeness is in their expressions, their movements, their mannerisms. Even if we do look similar, I don't recognize any of that in this unconscious man. He’s a stranger to me.
After an uncomfortable wait, I stand, reaching out to squeeze Craig’s hand. I softly tell him goodbye. I doubt I’ll be back until he’s well enough to know I’m here. I reach my hand out to Will.
I push open the door to the hospital and breathe a deep lungful of fresh air. We walk about four hundred meters down the street in silence, shaded by large trees. I had only been in there with Craig for a little over ten minutes before I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turn to Will.
“I hope you don’t think I’m awful,” I say quietly. “But I didn’t feel anything. I kept waiting, thinking I might get emotional, but nothing.”
Will drapes his arm around my shoulders and squeezes.
“He was just a man. A stranger to me. It’s sad he’s injured, of course, but…” I trail off.
“It’s sad, but you’re not sad?” Will guesses. He always understands me. We walk slowly next to each other. He zips his jacket up against the wind, then snakes his arm back around my shoulders, pulling me close and giving me another squeeze.
“Exactly. It is sad that he’s injured. But I don’t know him. I guess I’m no more sad about it than I would be to hear about any other injured stranger.” I wrap my scarf tighter around my neck. The wind is bitterly cold, much colder than yesterday.
“I hope you don’t think I’m awful for thinking that.” I whisper.
Will squeezes me again, then turns me towards him, hands on each shoulder. He kisses me on the forehead.
“I could never think you’re awful, Mia.”