The tiled ceiling above my head was eggshell white with black borders around each individual square, resembling highways crisscrossing, intersecting in the sky. I stared at the black paths as they zigzagged and ran over my head, until the fireworks in my brain were too much and I had to close my eyes. My pulse sounded like the beating of a tom-tom in my head and I inhaled deep breaths of the hospital's stale air. I've had the same headache for twenty-one hours now. The doctors have been pushing liquids through me ever since I arrived in this room, and they swore that it would get rid of this damn migraine but it wasn't working. I wondered how Matt and Blair were.
The cops had told us to walk over slowly and we did. They asked us for Triston's name and who we were. Matt was the most level-headed out of the three of us, and he gave the officers a complete synopsis of the fight. The officer's realized we were victims as well, and they rushed us into ambulances and we were all split up. I hadn't seen Blair or Matt since the fight. I knew Blair's arm was pretty jacked up, and the doctors told me Matt had two cracked ribs, but that's all they would give me. They wouldn't tell me anything about Triston. I didn't want them too.
The doctor walked into the room and smiled at me. "Hello, Avery." I didn't respond. "I have some good news." He sat at one of the bedside chairs. "We're giving you the clear. You were lucky and received minimal injury. How do you feel?"
"My head's been killing me since I was brought here."
"The water hasn't helped?" I shook my head. "Have you been eating?" I looked at my full plate of food by my bed. The nurse had to remove my untouched dinner before she could bring me my breakfast. I shook my head. "The food would probably help." He said.
"I'm not hungry." I grumbled.
"Blair and Mathew-"
"It's Matt."
The doctor looked at me tiredly for second before continuing. "Blair and Matt also get to go home here in the next few hours. We'll give your mother a call, and since Mrs.Moriss is not capable of driving and your families seem to be close, we'll see about having her drive Blair home, also."
"When can we leave?"
"Around three."
It was only ten. I looked at him disapprovingly. He ignored me and stood. "In the meantime, get some sleep." He wrote something on his clipboard and left the room.
The hours were painfully slow. I would look up every, what I thought was, twenty minutes, only to find five minutes had passed. At noon a nurse came in and told me my mother was here to visit.
"Are you well enough to have her visit?"
"Sure," I grumbled lazily.
The nurse left and I looked at my lunch. I took a grain of rice and tried to get it in the sink. I began shooting my whole meal into the sink, and I knew Mom would flip if she saw me. I took a brussel sprout and threw it across the room and into the trashcan.
"Nice shot."
My heart skipped several beats when I heard the voice. I whipped my head in the direction of the door, my eyes wide and my jaw dropped. "Mom?"
My mom stood quietly in the doorway. My real mom. We looked at each other in a still silence. I was too dumbfounded to speak. I couldn't even begin to mentally formulate words to say to this woman. I watched her take a deep breath and walk in the room. She slowly approached me and stood quietly beside me.
"What did they do to you?" She whispered as she looked me over. She reached out to my swollen lump above my eye. I flinched away and she drew back her hand, a look of deep hurt on her face, tears welling up in her blue eyes. I always thought I got my eyes from my dad, but at that moment, I wondered if I had been wrong all these years. She never took her pale eyes off of me as her body slowly sank to the side of my bed. I couldn't look at her anymore so I stared at my lap. I felt her eyes on me as I pretended to brush away crumbs and straighten out my sheets. My heart was pounding as I briefly looked up at her. Our eyes met and I quickly returned my focus to the bed. Silence overtook our room with the only sound being the faint ticking of the clock. I tucked hair behind my ear, fiddled with something, untucked my hair, scratched imaginary itches, looked out the window, I did everything but acknowledge the familiar stranger sitting at the foot of the bed.
"It seems you've grown two feet since I saw you last." She murmured softly. "But that can't really be true, could it?" I said nothing and looked at a bluebird sitting outside my window. "You- you always got into fights, huh, Avery?"
My eyes shot up at her and hardened. "I'm surprised you were sober enough to remember." I spat.
Her eyes flickered but other than that, there was no evidence that she even heard my comment.
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"As you should."
There was more silence. The rising hostility in me needed to be let out some more, and clearly my stinging retort wouldn't suffice. "Why are you here? You should be in your own room, so doctors can deal with drunks like you."
"Avery-"
"Where were you?"I demanded. My voice cracked. "Where the hell were you when I needed you?" Her eyes flooded with tears and they began falling. "At the bottom of the bottle, that's where you were." She didn't object to my statement and listened through silent tears. My voice shook. "At school I was being beaten, I was being cussed out, girls hated me and said awful things. Awful things. And boys... ganged up on me, bruised me, broke me, and none of it hurt me half as bad as you did, Ruth."
She wiped her nose and brushed away a tear. She stood and said quickly, "I think I'll go."
I stared after her as she rapidly approached the door. In the three seconds it took her to get to the edge of the room I felt a change. Something inside of my heart broke and I felt hopeless and alone. She was about to disappear down the hallway. "Wait," I called through a weak voice. She didn't hear me and she was gone. I jumped out of the bed and raced to the door. I rounded the corner sharply and stood in the middle of the hallway. "Wait," I called louder. She turned and faced me, her cheeks puffy, eyes red with tears. "Don't go." I pleaded, much softer.
She slowly started my way, and quickened her pace to almost a run. She stood in front of me and stared into my eyes. I let her tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I've missed you, baby," she whispered. We walked back to my room, side by side. We sat on the bed and faced each other. "How did you find me?" I asked her.
"I read about you in the newspaper. The story was out this morning. When I realized it was about you, Avery, I was so scared."
"What did the paper say?"
"It explained that there was a fight, and that the victims were you, your brother, and two friends." She looked off into space and then asked, "I'm guessing he's Malissa's kid?"
"Matt? Yeah,"
"Do you think of him as a brother?"
"Yeah," I sighed.
"And the other two? Are they close to you?"
"My best friend and my-" My breathing became choppy. "My boyfriend." I finished. I tried not to think of him. I knew that if I did I would turn into a wreck. Something swelled in my throat and tears spilled down my cheeks. "Did the paper say anything about him? Triston Morris? Do you remember? The doctors haven't told me anything and I'm so scared!"I sobbed.
"No, honey, I'm so sorry. They couldn't disclose anything but names."
I suddenly couldn't breathe. My breaths were short and shallow and I couldn't slow down. "He's dead!" I exclaimed. "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!" I was hyperventilating and I looked around wildly.
"Avery, calm-"
"No, Mom, he's dead! He's dead!" I cried.
"Avery!" She grabbed my arms and shook me. "Snap out of it!" I was still hyperventilating. She pulled my into her chest and squeezed me hard enough to make me stop breathing for a little. She loosened her grip and I was breathing normally again, but I was still sobbing. "He's dead," I whispered.
"No, baby, he isn't dead. Shh" She soothed. I burrowed into her brown fleece jacket and she stroked my hair. "Shh..."
****
The lights in my room were off and I stared out the window. I could vaguley hear Malissa calling me down for dinner, but I pretended I couldn't. Grace was asleep at the foot of my bed and I watched snowflakes fall from the gray sky and disappear among the top layers of snow. Mom had told me that she had talked to Vikki... Triston was in a coma. The doctors said it wasn't looking very good, either. I didn't think mom told me the whole story. I thought... I thought he might be dying. But how would I know.... I refused to see him.
The falling snow reminded me of that kiss we shared at the bottom of the hill. That was our first snow. My mind wandered to other memories of the two of us.
"Ouch!" I said as the pain increased. Triston ran over to me.
"Let me see."
I relaxed my hand and he gently twisted my finger, ever so slightly, so he could get a better look. My blood started soaking his hand, but he didn't care. He walked me over to the sink and rinsed my wound under lukewarm water. "There isn't any glass shards in it." He declared. He ripped off a piece of paper towel and dabbed my cut clean.
I smiled faintly at the bittersweet memory. That had been the first time I actually figured out how caring and generous Triston... Triston... is.
We parted ways and I was about to get in the car when I felt Triston gently touch my arm. "Avery, you, um, still have my sweatshirt."
"Oh yeah! You can come over and pick it up later, if you want."
"Ok, I'll see you in a bit then."
"Bye." He kept walking backwards.
"You're going to-" Before I could finish my sentence, he tripped over his pant leg and fell. I bent over laughing and got in the car. I buckled up and looked in the review mirror where Triston was still laying on the ground grinning like a fool. I giggled and leaned out the window. "You better move before you get hit!"
He got up and walked away to his car, and I leaned back in my seat and rolled my eyes. I looked over and Matt was smirking at me. "What?"
"Nothing." Matt said as he looked out his window.
I still remember that dopey grin Triston had when he was lying around in the parking lot, looking at me. I wondered if I would see him grin like that again.
A knock came at my door.
"Come in," I answered.
Matt opened the door. He had two cracked ribs and a sprained ankle. Like me, he had a beautiful bruise above the eye, every color of the rainbow. "Hey, Mom called for dinner, in case you didn't hear."
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten since you've got home."
"We've only been home for three hours."
"Oh, well... ok I guess." He turned around and walked out the room.
He didn't know I haven't eaten since lunch before the fight. I got up and approached my window. I opened it and the brisk December air slapped my cheeks. I held my hand out and allowed the tiny cold flakes to land on my fingertips, watching the delicate structures melt away and turn to the smallest puddles in the crevices of my skin. My hands turned a bright pink in the dark, winter's night air. I retracted my hand and closed the window. I turned away from the outside view and faced my dark room, blowing on my chilly hands.
The moon reflected off the snow outside, illuminating the far corner of my room, where a black mound was lying. My heart raced when I recognized it. I walked over and cautiously picked up the mound. It unfolded, untwisted, unraveled itself, and when it was completely straightened out, a feeling of sadness and joy overtook me at once. It was Triston's sweatshirt I took from him. I stood slowly and pressed the cool fabric to my face, breathing in. Under the masking scents of my perfume and dog hair, I could still make out the comforting smell of his cologne. I cried as I slipped it on over my t-shirt. I looked in the mirror and stared not at myself, but at the sweatshirt that belonged to the boy I loved. I layed down in my bed, burrowed my face into my pillow, and cried.
______________________________________
Two chapters left for me to write 😢
Update: Jk three
^ That would be Linda Hamilton whom I picture being Ruth, Avery's real mom.