Infinite - Jake T. Austin Love Story

43: Unnoticed

Did I see that right?

I click on the photo, enlarging it to full size. A stupid smile is placed on my face as I see exactly who had posted it; her Instagram is on public, but with the spam of love and 'get well soon' messages on my feed, thousands of people could've seen this photo, but no one paid attention to her post: "@marilara_E | four photos can't express how much you mean to me. I know you'll get better soon." She posted it a few days ago - a slightly blurred collage of four of our photos together: one consists of us in her auntie's home - a night we were together in her bed when we fell asleep - Aubrey taking this photo I'm assuming; the second one is in front of Disneyland, her lips against mine as the worker took photos of us - I remember telling her there was something on her face, and when she looked at me, I went for the kiss; the third one is Aunt Lea's candid shot at the beach when we were playing in the sand; and the fourth is from one of our dates out with Austin and Aubrey - she was tired then, and I remember she was annoyed by me because I kept telling her we'd have to walk more even though she was in heels: it worked out as I planned, because she actually made me piggyback her the rest of the way, and I didn't mind that one bit.

Is this her way of letting our relationship become public? What's the meaning of her posting this? Before I can think of answers, I hear a muffled voice, "Shit." I look up at my nightstand, seeing Lara push herself up from her bed groggily. "Shit, I fell asleep." I look at my phone, seeing the time - 4:20 am. It's only 3:20 am in Alaska; why does she need to wake up so early? She fixes her papers, filing them inside her binder before stuffing it in her backpack. Her pajamas consist of mint green shorts and a loose white T-shirt and her hair is a complete mess. I see the features of her face: beneath her eyes, it seems that bags have formed dark and heavy, her lips are chapped, and her cheeks are tear-stricken. All in all - it's as if she's been drained out like a battery being used to it's maximum capacity.

She stands up, removing her hair tie and let's loose her hair - landing with a bunch of tangles and knots. The shine it once possessed has disappeared with the glow of her skin: she has paled, her body light in color as her hair is unfixed. She drags her feet, almost like a zombie, grabbing a towel, and leaves the room as I hear the door shut.

She didn't even check her phone: Is it on lock right now? Can she not see me? Did she not take notice of how I am in this uncomfortable bed? I wait for her to come back, not knowing how long she'll be out of her room. I slowly twist myself, trying to fix my position on my hospital bed to face the iPad, clearly showing my face. I try to reach for the iPad again, but my arm restrains me: making me feel an immense pain as I stretch. One of my nurses notices my struggle as she comes to check on me, and she grabs the iPad from the bedside table, placing it gently on my stomach, near my face.

Fifteen minutes later, she enters her room with her body wrapped in two towels: one for her hair, one for her body. Some of her hair escapes the towel, drips of water falling down against her shoulders, sliding down to her towel and being absorbed. I contain myself from looking at her body clad with towels - the temptation difficult to stop, but I do by removing my eyes from the iPad since I know she is changing. I check my phone instead - seeing that social media had spread the news about my hospitalization. I click on various news articles to see what had happened, and in all of them, it is consistent that I'd been hit by a drunk driver.

I sneak a glance again, and Lara is in a grey sweater and dark skinny jeans with navy blue knee socks. The necklace I had given her is still around her neck, while the ring faintly shines on her finger. As she comes closer to her device, my eyes widen - surprised as I see her head clearly after showering. Her hair is to her shoulders, in contrast to being down to her back; it is short, seeming as if it has been tinted softly with a new color. Since when did this happen? Why did she do it?