A Year of Winter

seventeen

 January 20th, 2013

When she woke up, it was family visitors only. 

Bronwyn and her parents went straight to the front desk, where an older woman in a nurse uniform directed them to a narrow hallway. Both of her parents, looking slightly relieved as they headed down the corridor, hand in hand, their hearts nearly visible as they beat nearly out of their chests. Bronwyn followed in tow as the nurse ushered them down.

For a brief moment, Bronwyn turned back to look at me, her expression stolid and lifeless. She nodded at me, a small twinge of a smile tugging at her expression; almost like a sort of a way to reassure me, and to say “hey, cheer up, you’ll see her soon.”

And, I certainly wanted to feel reassured. But I didn’t.

“C’mon, Henry, let’s go home, honey,” my mother said, touching me softly on the shoulder. I looked back at her, my eyes meeting her own tired gaze. A sad smile touched her pale lips. “You need some rest. I’m sure you’ll be able to see her soon.”

“Your mother’s right, Henry,” my dad piped in, his gruff voice transcending all the way from the sitting area, where he’d been lounging stiffly for the entire stay. He stood up, back straight as he sauntered to me, ruffling my hair playfully, “We’ll stop for ice cream on the way back, all right?”

I looked at him, my expression completely flat. “Dad, it’s the middle of January,” I muttered, ducking out from underneath his hand, “And I’m not five.”

He put his bulky arm around me again, seeming not to have even noticed my evasion of his grasp. His eyes settled on me, grinning, “Henry, you’re never too old, or too cold, for ice cream.” 

❄

By the time Bronwyn had called, I’d spent the majority of my day already worrying consistently over what might be the matter. It was a worrisome business, being alone, and I often bothered myself with it more than necessary. But it wasn’t so much as voluntary every time I found myself confined to a wordless corner as it was forced, which was the same instance I found myself in while sitting by my cell phone.

“Bronwyn? You there?”

Winter’s sister answered in a solemn tone. But she didn’t quite sound sad. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Yep, I’m here,” she told me curtly.

“Well then? Is she okay?”

She took a moment, and I imagined her sitting on a sterile plastic hospital chair and nodding to herself, “she’ll be fine. Doc says she twisted her ankle pretty badly, but it’s nothing that time won’t heal.”

It felt like all life had returned to me, and I slumped back against my rolling chair, sighing with relief. “Thank God,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples, which had tightened with nervous anticipation. “I thought she might’ve been really hurt.”

“No, thankfully, she’ll be up and running again within the next few days.”

“Well, then, when can I see her?”

“Well, she’s resting right now,” she said in a small voice. “But you might be able to tomorrow.”

“And when will she be in school?” I asked, though I didn’t expect her to really know. I dreaded heading into school tomorrow, yet another day spent in those unwelcoming halls without her. I’d much rather go to the hospital and wait bedside, with Bronwyn and the rest of their family.

“Hopefully as soon as possible,” she told me. “But we’re not sure yet. I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay.”