Ch. 28 Contusions, Concussions and Community
It's a tug on my hand that pulls me out of my sleep.
A soft sheet moves under my head. It's cold, and a shiver runs through me. I wonder why it's freezing.
Something moves again.
I sit up, and nearly fall off my stool.
"Whoa!"
I blink my eyes open. Light streams through the windows, illuminating everything.
"Celeste!" I rush to her, to find that she's awake and looking around her with a bewildered gaze.
She tries to push away her blankets, eyes wild, but I grab her hands and stop her.
Her sight finally lands on me.
"Marcus?"
I smile at her, "The one and only."
"What...happened? Why am I here?" Her voice is raw and low.
"I'll tell you everything. But before that, would you like a sip of water?"
I grab the glass from her bedside, straw already in place. She takes a few sips and then pushes the glass away.
"Would you like to sit up?" She nods frantically.
I press a button by her bed and the back starts rising slowly.
"We have to be very careful while moving you. You might feel dizzy."
"I..." She pauses, fear clear in her gaze.
I squeeze her hand. "You had a terrible fall yesterday. What do you last remember?"
"Uh..." Her expression turns distant as she struggles to detangle her memories.
"I was working on that stupid presentation... I dreamt that we renewed the contract, and that..." she hesitates before continuing in a small voice, "You voided the walk-away clause."
"Celeste, honey, that wasn't a dream. We did renew our contract without that clause. "
"Oh...Well, I worked and went home. I was on the staircase...I think I slipped..." She turns her head to me, confused.
"Well, when you left my office yesterday—you looked off—dazed, unwell. I couldn't get it out of my head. When my meeting finally ended, I found you had already left... So I called you.
"You didn't answer, but then you called back in a minute or so, asking for help. When I arrived..."
I swallow the lump in my throat as the memory of her lying there with a face covered in blood has me shuddering.
My voice trembles. "You were unconscious on the landing... You had a cut on the head that I could see. The paramedics brought you here. We've been here for about fourteen hours now."
I caress her face—I can't help myself. "I'm going to call the doctor, 'kay?"
"Okay."
—--------------------
"So far, so good. You have ten stitches on your forehead, close to the hairline. The stitches are self dissolving and the scar will be very faint if visible."
Celeste looks on wide-eyed while Dr. Jain gives her a rundown of her injuries.
"You were extremely dehydrated—we had to put you on IV fluids. The hydration is working. Your bloodwork indicates anemia. Your blood sugar dipped way below normal yesterday. You need to eat your meals on time, young lady. Luckily, everything else seems fine."
Dr. Jain continues reading her chart. "You do have a deep hip contusion and you're also showing signs of a mild concussion. For both your injuries, rest is paramount. NO SCREENS. No lifting weights, no stairs, for at least two more days. Walking is fine—if your glute allows it."
"What's a deep hip contusion?" Celeste's voice is soft but filled with terror.
Dr. Jain notices and smiles kindly. "A bruised bum."
Celeste colors pink, an 'O' forming on her lips.
He turns to me. "The on-call nurse will go over all the care instructions again at the time of discharge this evening. I'm prescribing certain medicines, I need you to get them from the pharmacy."
He scribbles on a pad and hands it to me before leaving.
—----------------------
The daylight hurts my eyes. I don't say anything, but Marcus suddenly draws the curtains, making it much more bearable.
The headache is better after having slept most of the morning away.
My thoughts feel slow, and I still can't believe Marcus is here, by my side.
It doesn't help that the concussion and pain killers are making me feel woozy.
I'm having trouble concentrating, but the thought of Marcus leaving me here, alone—unable to move— has my pulse escalating.
"Are you—leaving now?"
He smiles, so warm and open, it's a dream I don't want to wake up from.
"Absolutely not. Kyle is coming up as we speak, and I'll have him get the meds. I'm not letting you out of my sight for even a second."
Just then a knock sounds on the door and Kyle enters.
"Hi, Celeste! How are you feeling?"
"Hi..." My voice cracks. Kyle is here too.
"I'm better?" I look at Marcus for confirmation. He smiles and agrees. "She is."
"I'm glad," Kyle continues. "It'll help calm down Ella and Legend."
"Ella? Legend too?" My vision blurs at their mention.
"Indeed." Marcus takes over. "They came as soon as they heard. They visited you yesterday, but you were asleep. They left—not even half an hour back."
I can't handle the wave of emotion that rushes through me. Words leave my mouth—words I'm unable to control. "Don't they hate me?"
Kyle looks at a loss and turns to Marcus, who answers.
"Of course not! They love you. Do you know how much they chewed me out for being an ass to you?" He smiles at me, and there's no animosity in his eyes.
"I don't hate you either. I might have, when I nearly got expelled—but I haven't hated you in years."
My heart thumps so hard in my chest, I'm worried it'll push out all the water I just drank.
My mouth dries, and cheeks burn. I don't know what to say. He hated me.
But now he doesn't?
I sleep soon after, feeling more at peace than I have in a really long time.
Knowing my friends still care, and Marcus doesn't hate me anymore eases many of the knots within me...
Marcus keeps vigil next to me, hand on mine. I can smell his cologne, something woody and spicy, and instantly I feel lighter.
My last thought echoes in my mind long after the Sandman claims me—
I'm safe.
—--------------------
I don't know if I've ever driven this fast in all my life. The road blurs outside my window, but all I can think about is Marcus's text.
For years, I've colored Celeste with the wrong brush, because it helped me justify my hurt and judgement.
I held on blindly to my pride so that I wouldn't have to face my own mistakes—or gather the courage to correct what I knew was wrong.
I knew Celeste was different—yet I let her history cloud my judgment.
I was just like mom, wasn't I?
Bile pools in my stomach.
She must hate me.
Images of Celeste, lying somewhere in a pool of blood, nearly obscure my vision.
I floor the accelerator.
I only ever got one text from Marcus. My fingers tighten on the wheel.
What will I find when I get there?