Coma Girl: part 2 (6 page)

“I’m sorry for the added stress this must be putting on your family.”

“If it happens again,” my mother said, “I’ll get the police involved.”

“I understand. I’ll remind the staff to keep a close eye on who comes in and out.”

But I can think of someone who isn’t on staff and technically, isn’t a visitor. And now that my brain is working more efficiently, I remember the first time a photo had been leaked, I suspected it was someone who’d recently been in the room, but I couldn’t remember their identity. But now I remember, and once again, the timing is right: the volunteer who reads to us.

I’d thought he was visiting to be a nice human being, but while I was soaking up the poetry, was he snapping photos of me to sell to the highest bidder?

Who was he, exactly?

“PEACE BE WITH YOU, ladies.”

And also with you.

Sister Irene stopped by each bed and murmured a prayer for my ward mates, and for me. But I confess I blocked out the words—God and I are not on the best terms of late. I’m pretty perturbed at being trapped like this, and to have glimpses of hope snatched away… it’s inhumane. And it goes against everything I was taught in school about a loving God. What possible good could come from me lying here? From all of us lying here? It’s starting to feel as if we’re being toyed with.

“I see the flowers are still coming in, Marigold.”

Yes, the scents I’d once found comforting were now cloying. But she made a show of sniffing and cooing over the arrangements.

“I heard on the news the young man involved in your accident is going to be charged with DUI. And it sounds as if other charges are pending related to your condition.”

Rightly so.

“I don’t know what God has in store for you, Marigold, but in the event he chooses to take you home, you should use this time to confess your sins, and offer forgiveness to your enemies so you will meet Him with a pure heart.”

Ack—I hadn’t thought of that. Am I so wicked that God is giving me a chance to come clean before taking the rest of me?

Leave it to a nun to put it all back on me.

“If you can hear me, Marigold, try to put yourself in this young man’s shoes—imagine the guilt he has to lie down with every night. This incident will taint the rest of his life.”

Sister, I’d love to put myself in Keith Young’s shoes—because he’s walking around, talking, and feeding himself. He wasn’t thinking of anyone but himself when he drank and then got behind the wheel, and now I’m going to be selfish, too.

“You will feel better if you forgive him.”

I’m not listening… la la la… la la la.

“At least that’s what they all told me,” she murmured.

I stopped. Huh?

“They all told me I’d feel better if I forgave the man who killed my sister,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “But actually, the only thing that made me feel better was imagining gouging out his eyeballs with a snail fork.”

Wow.
Wait—there’s such a thing as a snail fork?

“So I told everyone—Mother Superior, the priest, and even the bishop that I forgave the murdering scumbag, but I didn’t. That would have been a betrayal to my dear sister, and to me, that was a bigger sin.”

I’m with you, Sister.

Then she made a rueful noise. “You want to know something?”

There’s more?

“He’s out on parole, the animal. And ever since I found out, all I can think about is finding him and killing him.”

What? She couldn’t mean that.

“Not just killing him, but torturing him… filleting him like a fish, then cutting him up, piece by piece, like he did to my sister.”

Okay, maybe she did mean it.

“I know where he lives,” she whispered.

If I could feel anything, I’m pretty sure the hair would be standing up on my arms.

Then a mewling sound escaped her, like a wounded animal, grating against my ear drums. But in that one guttural noise I sensed a tiny bit of how she had suffered. Her footsteps sounded quickly in the direction of the door. She stopped suddenly.

“Peace be with you,” she said in a rush, then left.

And also with
—wait… holy crap, had a nun just confessed to planning a murder?

YOU MIGHT THINK ALL COMA patients sleep all the time, but that’s not true. I sleep mostly at night, when the hospital is quiet. But just as I was pre-coma, I fight sleep, because now I’m afraid I’ll never wake up again.

Eventually, though, my mind shuts down on its own, and then I sleep. And sometimes, I dream. So far, my dreams have all been about doing things I used to do—simple things, like brushing my teeth and walking up and down stairs. I’ve heard it’s common for people who are wheelchair bound to dream about running and jumping.

And sometimes I dream about people I know, most often Duncan, Roberta, and Mark Ruffalo.

Okay, I don’t know Mark Ruffalo, but I’d like to.

Anyway, I was having this nice dream about Mark Ruffalo when suddenly someone’s voice rudely cut in.

“Mom.”

Confused, I resisted leaving my dream, but the voice cut in again.

“Mom.”

So I left the dream behind and lifted myself to the most conscious state I could, where I was aware of what was happening in the ward.

“Mom.”

I don’t recognize the voice, but it’s female. My first thought is one of my ward mates has a visitor, a child I haven’t heard about. But from the sounds around us—or rather, the lack of sounds—I realize it’s the middle of the night, hardly the time for visitors.

“Mom… Mom… Mom…”

So the only other explanation is… one of my roomies is talking?

“Mom…. Mom…
mom
! MOM! MOM! MOM!”

The door burst open, admitting two sets of feet.

“What the heck?” said one voice.

“Oh, my, God,” said another. “One of them is awake!”

“Which one?”

“Let me check—Parks… Audrey Parks.”

Audrey had been hollering throughout and continued to yell, “Mom! Mom! Mom!”

“Call Dr. Tyson, stat. I’ll try to calm her down.”

But Audrey was still yelling for her mother when Dr. Tyson arrived twenty minutes later.

“Audrey,” Dr. Tyson said loudly, “I will get your mother, but first you have to quiet down.”

That shut her up—a good sign, I realize, because it means she hears and understands.

“My name is Dr. Tyson. I’m going to stay with you until your mother and father arrive. Let’s get her to a private room,” she directed in a lower voice, “where we can examine her. And contact her family immediately.”

“It’s a miracle,” one of the nurses said.

“I’m sure there’s a medical explanation,” Dr. Tyson was saying as they moved the bed out into the hall.

Then I remembered Audrey’s father’s visit last week and his announcement that her mother has Alzheimer’s. I believe Audrey had heard him and somehow, internalized the realization she might never see her mother again if she didn’t get out of that bed. After two years of apathy, it had taken several days to get her brain synched up with her mouth, but there was no doubt in my mind, love had been the impetus, and sheer will had carried her out of her stupor.

So no matter what explanation Dr. Tyson manages to put on it, it
is
a miracle.

I’m in awe, and so happy for Audrey, even though she probably has a long road ahead of her.

And I’m also sick with jealousy. I wanted to be the one to spring up and startle the staff, make a fool out of Dr. Tyson. And I know the chances of two miracles happening back to back are nearly nil.

Audrey stole my miracle.

“DONNA SAID SHE JUST sat up like effing Lazarus and started talking.”

“Man, that would’ve freaked me out.”

Two orderlies, Nico and Gabriel, whose voices I now remember as being the first ones I heard when I became aware of my surroundings, were in the ward cleaning and removing equipment that had been adjacent to Audrey’s bed.

“Wonder what made her wake up after two years?” Nico asked.

“Who knows? Donna is convinced it’s a miracle. She said a nun was in here the day before.”

Little did they know, instead of asking God for a miracle, Sister Irene was plotting a thrill kill.

“How are things with you and Donna?”

Gabriel’s laugh was the kind guys share when they kiss and tell. “Great. She knows how to make me happy.”

Hm… wasn’t Gina dating Gabriel?

“Happier than Gina?” Nico asked.

Gabriel gave another laugh. “They both make me happy in different ways.”

“You’re playing with fire, dating two women who work here. One is bound to find out about the other.”

“Not if I’m careful, and I intend to be.”

“Man, I’m telling you, Gina’s going to want you to put a ring on it.”

“No way am I getting married again.”

Hadn’t Gina said he’d never been married?

“The third wife did me in,” he added.

What a rat.

“Hey, over there’s the one they call Coma Girl,” Nico said. “I heard Keith Young blew a lousy .1 over the limit.”

“So they’re going to charge him with DUI?”

“Yeah, and maybe worse, depending on what happens to CG.”

“Man, he’s been looking good in practice, too. Damn shame.”

“Hey, maybe CG will wake up, too. Then he can pay a fine and do community service for the DUI, and we get a respectable season of ball.”

“Let’s try,” Gabriel said.

“Let’s try what?”

“Let’s try to wake her up.”

“Are you crazy?”

“We’d be heroes, think of it.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t touch her.”

Thank you, Nico.

They walked closer to my bed and I wondered what Gabriel had in mind. A loud clap sounded near my face. Then another.

“Hey, Coma Girl, wake up,” Gabriel said.

I don’t.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.”

Cute.

“That’s enough, man,” Rico said. “We’re done, let’s go.”

“Hey, my sister said there are places that will pay good money for a picture of her. She’s famous, like Pokemon Go.”

What the heck is Pokemon Go?

“Forget it,” Rico said. “Dr. Tyson ripped everyone a new one a few days ago over some leaked photos. It’s not worth getting canned over.”

“You’re probably right,” Gabriel said. “I wish she’d wake up, though.”

Don’t we all.

The door opened and closed. One less bed changed the acoustics in the room. I can feel Audrey’s absence, and I wonder if Karen and Jill are aware she made her escape.

And then there were three.

“UGH, THE D.A.’S OFFICE asked us not to make a statement about Keith Young’s lab results.”

Sidney is wound up today—she’s talking so fast I can barely understand her, but I almost don’t care what Sid is saying—I’m ecstatic because she’s doing my nails again. Which means the nurses will take it off again, and I’ll get to feel the sensation of touch again.

“David is irritated, but says for now it’s best to comply. The good news is the piece I posted that you were
not
on the phone when the crash happened has two hundred thousand likes.”

So if everyone else believes it, I probably should, too.

Then she made a sound of frustration. “But how dare that Audrey girl steal your thunder by waking up first?”

I totally agree. Although I heard the nurses say Audrey was making good progress through physical rehab and speech therapy, and I’m happy for her.

“We got a little mileage out of it, though, by saying your presence has brought a new energy to the ward, with all the flowers and stuff people are sending. That allowed us to thank your fans and ensure the arrangements keep coming, which gives us more pictures to post on Instagram.”

That explained the spike in flower deliveries.

“I talked to Mom and Dad, and I’ve decided to sit out this semester.”

Oh, no—I don’t want Sid to postpone her education because of me.

“David’s going to need help with everything and I just don’t feel comfortable turning it over to someone else.”

Ah, so David is the reason.

“One semester is no big deal. Hopefully, you’ll wake up soon and everything will get back to normal.”