Lucid

Chapter Eight

I have an uncomfortable suspicion that Alyssa's not coming back in my dreams. At least, not until I "ask her dad". My heart aches just thinking about her. What the fuck did she mean by that? What does her dad know that I don't?
    Mom drops me off at the hospital after school. At the counter, I'm told to sit and wait. So I plop down in one of the cushioned chairs nearby. People filter in and out, most of them visitors. The energy is calm, reserved, despite the fact that many are dying -- and some, being born -- in this very building.
    I shut my eyes at the thought. Alyssa's alive at least. She isn't gone.
    "Miles? I can give you the room number and access now, her dad and doctor allow it," a nurse calls.
    I've been here before, I think. I escort myself. My hands tremble as they press the buttons on the elevator. The doors glide open. I turn down the empty white halls and find the room. The sterile stench of bleach makes my empty stomach turn.
    I knock lightly on the door.
    There are several seconds of silence before the door swings open. I jump to see Alyssa's dad looking ten times worse than he did last time I saw him. He had grown out a peppered beard, scraggly and unsettling. His red strained eyes bore dark circles beneath and he reeked. He was very thin, emaciated.
    "I came to see her."
    "Mmm," he says, letting me in. He sits back in a soft chair and slurps a sip of what appears to be piping hot black coffee.
    I awkwardly stand at the edge of Alyssa's bed. She looks cooler than last time, not glistening with thick sweat. I notice the chill in the room. They probably adjusted the temperature.
    "How's she been?"
    "Same as always. The doctor thinks she's capable of pulling herself out of this. That she just really doesn't wanna wake up."
    Alyssa told me right. I'm surprised the doctors could figure that out.
    "How have you been?"
    He sighs loudly. I sit down across from him, Alyssa in between us. "It doesn't matter, son. It really doesn't."
    "You look ill," I tell him.
    "I look ill? Look at my fucking daughter."
    I flinch at his words. Silence drapes over us like a blanket. We both sit, staring at Alyssa. "She's so beautiful," I can't help but say. "So beautiful." I pick up her hand and plant a gentle kiss on it.
    "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lashed out like that. I'm doing okay. How have you been? Hanging in there alright?"
    I look at Alyssa. I have to choose my words carefully, since she can hear me.
    "I'm on medication now. I'm in a lot of pain. But, the pain would only be worse if she died. Permanent pain. If she woke up... That's all I can hope for. I would be eternally grateful if the universe or God or whoever's up there gave her another chance."
    Her heartbeat picks up a few beats. She heard me. I scrunch my nose as tears flood my vision.
    "She heard you," her dad says. "She hears me sometimes too. Doctor says the chances are low. But if her pulse increases when she hears certain things, it could be a hopeful sign that she can pull herself out. That's one of the reasons he thinks she has the power to wake."
    I came here for a reason. I miss Alyssa. I need to talk to her, but she isn't in my dreams. I have to ask her dad. I have to try.
    "Did Alyssa carry a lot of guilt or shame?" I blurt out.
    Matthew clears his throat. "Not that I know of."
    "I think I recall her saying something. Before the attempt. About... feeling disgusting?"
    Deep pain flashes across his face. His eyes drop. His shoulders slouch. "My daughter? Disgusting? Oh, god, how could she think these things?"
    He begins to sob wickedly.
    I watch as his bony shoulders hunch forward, his knees at his chest.
    "I should go."
    His head shoots up and his furious eyes grab mine. It's like looking at a wild animal. "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Stay, if you want. I'm just... so tired."
    Oh my god. Has he still not slept?
    How is he even alive, not eating or sleeping? I slowly make my way to the door, eyeing him carefully. His unpredictable tears set me on edge. I reach for the handle.
    "I have to get home. Mom wants me home for dinner. Tacos. I can bring you some food if you'd like," I offer, hope gleaming in my voice.
    "I can't eat. Not while my daughter's in pain."
    I nod carefully. Once the door is shut I speed-walk to the elevator. On the way down to the ground floor I call my mom.
    "Can you come pick me up? I know it's soon, but I'm ready to come home."

    Mom actually is making tacos, to my surprise. She scoops some black beans and ground beef onto my flour tortilla, sprinkles on some cheese and serves it to me with a glass of milk.
    Since when does she make dinner like this?
    "Mom, I'm worried about Alyssa's dad."
    She focuses on making her own taco. "Huh? Worried?"
    "He hasn't eaten or slept in weeks. He's surviving off of coffee and water. He looks terrible."
    Her brows knit together as she sits down across from me with her plate and a full glass of wine. "Honey, I'm sure the doctors check in on him if he looks bad. And I'm sure he's eating and sleeping."
    "No, Mom, he's not. He told me. He doesn't want to unless Alyssa is awake. I'm worried about him, Mom. He looks like he's ready to collapse at any moment."
    She takes a bite of her food. "Okay. I'll go over there and check on him, offer some help. I can cook for him, you know."
    I nod. "I told him that. He declined the offer."
    Mom places her hand on mine while she chews. She swallows with a sip of her wine. "It's gonna be okay."
    I shake my head. "That's bullshit. But thanks for trying."