Wake me

2: Visiting Hours

It has been a month since the accident happened, and I lay silently in the hospital bed for my usual weekly checkup. It was a miracle, the doctors had said, that I had survived. It was an absolute miracle. I sighed, trying to ignore the constant buzz of the hospital machinery alongside me, and looked sadly upon the bronze frame on the bedside table, with my long lost friends. Bruce stood there in a smart button up, collared floral shirt and chinos. He had even shaved for the occasion. He was laughing, looking at his lovely girlfriend Samantha, whose red hair was curly and bouncy upon her chubby shoulders. The turquoise dress on her curvy figure complimented her chest freckles, and she was holding on Bruce's hand insecurely, but smiling none the less. Tina, on the other hand, wore high waisted pants and a button up shirt with a blazer, her hair cut short and dyed black. Her piercing glinted in the photograph as she smiled at me, thinking about what a strange sister I was. Luke was the one who took the photo, it was a pity he couldn't be in it. I looked so happy- with my blond hair plaited prettily over my shoulder and my green eyes clashing with the green top I wore. My thin collarbones stuck out, but my smile was broad as I looked back at Tina. I shivered at the thought of her. Losing her. I rolled back over as the door was pushed opened, and my mother stepped in. Her usually brown hair was flecked with strands of silver and was tied into a messy and unprepared bun on her head, secured with a black clip. Her shirt was nothing special, and the jeans on her seemed a bit too big and loose around her thighs. Her normally bright and tanned skin looked so pale and wrinkled, the bags under her eyes darker and heavier. "How are you feeling?" She asked, coming up to me and placing a warm hand on my cold one. I shook my head, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes. "Grace,"she began, "I understand-"
"You don't." I said quickly, the tears biting at my throat as I tried so hard not to cry.
Mother sighed, and nodded in sad agreement. She sat down on the bed next to me and stroked my greasy hair, just like Tina used to do. I shook my head, trying to shrug her away from me. Even though it had been a month, losing a sister and two best friends was something nobody should ever get over. Because of the accident, I had to drop out of college much to my own disappointment. I couldn't handle the pressure, and the doctors said I had suffered a major concussion and had lost some of my memory. It was true- I couldn't remember certain parts of my day, and I battled to recall childhood memories. Long term memory- bad. My mother squeezed my hand and I pushed her away again. In effort to chat positively, she started a conversation about Luke. "The doctors think he may recover, you know," she said hopefully, "There is a chance."
"Mom," I said, biting my lip, "I have been to see him countless times every day. He hasn't changed, he may as well be dead."
Luke looked like a ghost on his hospital bed- his skin so pale I could see his veins in his jaw and chest, and in his eyelids I could nearly see his blue eyes from under the skin. His hair was so dirty and pasted back out of his carved face. His entire body was cold, and he had been asleep now for a month in a deadly and cold coma that he may not wake up from. It was horrible having to see him that way- it was all my fault. Him and I were the only ones who survived the crash. Tina had fought to survive, but the blood loss was so bad she died peacefully in her sleep. Samantha died when she arrived at hospital due to chest and head injuries, and Bruce died instantly as a piece of glass shard had pierced his skull and he slammed it against the car door due to the impact of the water. I was the lucky one. I had suffered rib cage damage, meaning many broken and fractured ribs. I had broken both collarbones, and had a small internal bleeding issue near my oesophagus. I suffered countless bruises and skin wounds, and fractured my left wrist in the process. And, the last nasty one, a major blow to the head. Luke, on the other hand, was a miracle more than I was. His head was slammed twice, as the investigators said, against the dashboard, then through the front car window. He was knocked out, and hadn't woken up since. He broke some ribs, and an arm, and still had many bloody wounds and purple bruises on his body that I allowed my eyes to glance on when I visited him during his visiting hours.
"Grace," Mother said, "Don't say that. He is alive, and there is a chance he could wake up any day now."
"Mom, the nurses said it's unlikely. It's like a tiny sliver of hope that can be burnt out by an unlit match." I sighed, letting a tear roll down my cheek. "Besides, why didn't Tina survive? They said she had a chance too! A bigger chance at that, and look where she is now. Rotting under the ground because the doctors wouldn't freaking help her!"
"Grace!" Mother said sharply, "the doctors did everything they could. Tina was going to pass away eventually, we all knew it. I know it's hard, and believe me I still can't get over it, she is my daughter! But I have you, and so I must be grateful."
I remained silent, and rolled over sharply to push my mother out of my side view. I gazed out of the hospital room window at the smoggy skies and rooftops, tears rolling down my cheeks, burning my skin. After about half an hour of silence, a nurse walked in and my mother stepped up from off the bed. "Grace Parker," The nurse smiled, "How are you feeling?"
"Must I really answer that?" I sighed. The nurse gave me a sad smile and gestured for my mother to leave the room. When the door clicked closed, the nurse preceded with the usual heart monitor check ups, blood pressure, memory recall and bone fragment checkups. After an hour, she scribbled down some notes on her clipboard and stuck it on the foot of the bed. "I am happy with your progress, Grace," she said, smoothening her brown hair out of her face, "but I am going to have to ask you to stay overnight."
"Why? How come? Am I getting sick again?" I gasped nervously., feeling the blood drain from my cheeks.
"No, but your blood pressure and heart rate is a little higher than usual, and I would feel a lot more at ease if we could monitor you overnight and see if there are any underlying symptoms. It's safer that way, we don't want-" she was going to carry on, but stopped her sentence abruptly. I knew what she was going to say, she didn't want me ending up like my sister, but she didn't have the guts to. To change the subject, I asked how Luke was doing.
"Luke is the same as usual," the nurse sighed, "he hasn't changed a bit, and his bones are taking a while to set. I don't know why, it's probably because he can't exercise them or move the muscles to spark the healing process. We have him on multiple hormone and medicinal drips, and we are hoping he'll be okay."
"Can I see him later?" I asked. The nurse sighed again. She knew I had seen him exactly nine times today already, but I wanted to see him more. She reluctantly agreed and handed me yet another visitors slip from her pocket. "I may as well give you the whole book." She joked lightly, and she managed to get me to smile. Her name badge shone in the yellow headlamp: Wanda. We chatted a little longer, before she had to leave to do her cleaning duties. Mother entered after being told about my overnight stay, and asked if she must stay to. I shook my head, and told her to go, that I needed time alone. Her and my father agreed it was better, and left at five o' clock that night. My visiting hour was six o clock, after dinner. It was unlikely I was going to eat the plastic tasting noodles and vegetables, but I wanted to please Wanda. The quicker I was discharged, the better.

I walked down the cold, empty hallway and glanced at the metal name plaques stuck on the various white doors. Holding rooms for people with permanent injuries, or life threatening ones like cancer. I shivered, hearing the low hum and buzz of hospital machinery was not at all comforting, and the echo of my sandals on the prestige tiled floor made the shiver a whole more eerie. Wanda allowed me to walk to Luke's room alone, as I knew where it was and had no desire to go anywhere else. I tried to ignore the bustling beds on wheels or the every so often cry of a parent or friend, or the worried look on a nurse's pale face as she scanned a clipboard or document. Finally, I reached the end of the horrid hall, and stared blankly at the grey door that stood before me. It had a silver name plaque slid under the window: Luke Graham, 4508. I grimaced and pushed open the door, and stared at my feet while I closed it behind me. I looked up slowly and saw that nothing was different. It was the same, empty room with faded curtains drawn shut over the window, the tiled floors shiney and squeaky. The bedside lamp shining a dull, flickering yellow and the beep of a heart monitor slowly dark ended my mood. And there, next to the bedside table, lay a very still and pale Luke, whose white skin seemed paler in the lamps sickly flickering light. His veins showed from beneath his pastel skin, and I tried to ignore the needles and drips that were poised into his arms and chest. I sat down slowly on the chair by the bed, and looking at him. I didn't say anything, for what use was it when he wasn't going to reply? I sighed, and took hold of his ice cold hand, pressing his fingers against mine and trying to warm him. It was so cold in this room, and I had mentioned to Wanda, but she said they had to keep the air con on for the patients in ward three, due to their illnesses or monitoring standards. She had told me the cold wouldn't affect him- but it affected me. He wasn't usually so cold- he was normally warm and... Smiling. I missed his twisted, curled smile that hooked up on his one side. The way his teeth used to peep from behind his lips. I walked over to the curtains and opened them, to let the stars shine in, only to be reminded that the curtains were covering nothing but a brick wall view of the building block next store. Not a glimmer of sky could be seen. Just then, the door was pushed open and Wanda stood there holding a tray. "Ah," she said, "I knew you'd be here." I gave her a friendly smile as she closed the door and set the tray down, handing me a mug of hot coffee. I smiled again, and took it into my hands. She sat down next to me, holding a mug as well, and sipped at it mechanically while staring at Luke's torso- piped and pumped.
"You miss him."
I looked at her quizzically. A question? A statement? What ever it was, it was said so out of the blue. Wanda was still staring out into space, and I looked away from her sharp blue eyes. "Yes." I said softly, a murmur through my coffee stained lips. "I don't blame you, dear," she sighed, shaking her head so that some strands of brown hair fell into her face, "He was a nice kid."
"You knew him?" I asked, surprised.
"Of course." She smiled, as if the memories of him were bright and funny, "When I first started working here, he was one of my first patients."
"Really? Why was he here?" I asked.
"Oh, a broken collar bone, nothing hectic."
I remembered when Luke broke his collarbone. It was earlier that year- he had been skateboarding with a couple of his friends, and I was sitting on the skater amp watching him, taking pictures through my new Nikon at the time. He had shown off a few flip tricks, and tackled one of the simple ramps when his board slipped out from under his feet and scraped the paving. He fell, head first into the metal tricks bar, and his collarbone was planted right into the bar. We had to bring him to hospital. I had stayed a whole week with him in his bedroom, nursing him and telling him silly stories to pass away the time. It took a long time to heal- Luke generally took a long time to heal from anything, a flu, a cold or a broken arm. He took weeks longer than everybody else usually did.
"He was a nice kid." She repeated melancholy.
"He is." I corrected her subtly, and reaching out to stroke Luke's greasy hair. "Do you think he'll... Wake up?"
Wanda didn't flinch, but didn't look at me either. She didn't seem to want to answer straight away, and she chewed her bottom lip as if in deep thought. "Like I said," she sighed, "There is a chance."
I looked away from her face, and back to Luke, whose lips lay in a straight line, whose bruises were still yellow and purple up the side of his neck, whose nose was still slightly crooked from that time I threw a bottle at him and broke his nose, his fingernails still slightly chewed and dirty, and his hair still thick and bushy. I felt tears bite my throat, and turned away from him and Wanda, who seemed to have snapped out of her trance and was gathering the mugs. "I must go wash up," she stated, "I'll leave you here for a little longer." I nodded, and watched her leave the room with her grey cardigan swinging behind her clacking heels. I pressed my head against Luke's chest, and through the humming of the plugs and pipes in him, I could hear his heart beat.