Chapter 22 Vivian
Vivian
Present Day
Christ. Her head hurts.
She’s still floating—on the rotating bed, on the stupid lily pad. She alternates between realities. But further, beyond it all, there seems to be a shift in her location. Something she senses, something she feels. Something she fears.
There’s too much silence.
Where is that nurse, Taylor? Or the nurse who loudly chews gum? The nursing student? The doctors, making their rounds?
Where is everyone?
Vivian feels vulnerable, exposed. What if someone is there, next to her, but choosing not to speak? She wills her eyes to open, but they stubbornly disobey. She dislikes how people must be able to see her but she can’t see them.
Vainly, she thinks of her one chin hair.
The pesky one that has sprouted up in the past couple of years.
She plucked it recently, thank goodness.
But what is recently? She got her bikini line hair lasered off years ago, but what about her legs and under her armpits?
She can’t remember the last time she shaved.
Two days ago, perhaps? But two days from when?
She doesn’t think Rachel and Xavier have visited—she can’t recall them doing so—but then again, who the hell knows.
Wait—Peter. Where has he been?
Why hasn’t he come to visit?