Memory's Edge: Part One (3 page)

Chapter Four

A Sound

In one
week, Gretchen learned more about comas and coma patients than she ever
expected to learn in a lifetime. Textbooks she hadn’t touched since her first
year of college were littered over her kitchen table. Carl didn’t approve of
her interest, but kept his frustration to warnings about what getting involved
might lead to.

The nurses,
however, were supportive and helpful. They updated her on tests they ran and
prognoses the doctors gave. It felt good to learn about what was happening to
John as he lay asleep in his hospital bed, but every day he didn’t wake up,
stepping into the hospital got a little harder. As did going home to find Carl
pushing her to stay out of it.

It didn’t
stop Gretchen, though. Every day after school she packed up her books, along
with papers in need of grading, and drove across town to the hospital. By
Wednesday evening, the duty nurses stopped in to say hello as much as to check
on John. Thursday, there was a cup up tea waiting for her in John’s room.

The nurses
told Gretchen her visits were helping him heal. She knew there was research
validating they said, but she felt she was the one benefitting from her visits
the most. Concern and responsibility slowly morphed into a calming sense of
purpose. When she walked into the room, the day’s craziness gave way to the
gentle rhythmic sounds of his breathing. It felt good to watch over John,
though she doubted her presence made any difference to him.

Gretchen
told no one at work about continuing to visit John, except her best friend
Desi. They had all heard about the incident of course, but after a few “How are
you doing?” comments, their interest faded away as the bell rang. They probably
all assumed Gretchen had forgotten the experience as quickly as they did.

Desi,
however, thought it romantic. She asked once if Gretchen wanted her to come
with her, but she said no. Gretchen didn’t want to share her time with him, or
admit how much she enjoyed the quiet visits. So Friday afternoon, she packed up
her weekend stack of grading and hurried to the hospital alone.

Stepping
out of the elevator on the fifth floor, Gretchen took her usual route past the
nurses’ station, pausing to say hello to everyone, and down the hall to John’s
room. Lynn, a nurse she had become friends with over the week, was busy
checking his vitals when she walked in. She looked up when she heard Gretchen
bump into the side table. “Hey, Gretchen. Violets?”

Gretchen
glanced down at the potted plant in her hand. Violets weren’t the showiest flower
in the world, but their delicate beauty always drew her in. “I thought they
might brighten things up,” she said.

“They’re
beautiful,” Lynn said. She stuck her pen back in her scrubs pocket and put her
hands on her hips. “How are your high school hooligans doing? You ready for
summer yet?”

“Don’t even
mention summer to me. It’s still two months away. If I start thinking about
summer now, I’ll never make it.” Gretchen laughed as she said it, but it was true.
It was her first year of teaching and she was ready for a break.

“That bad,
huh?” Lynn grinned as she started toward the door. “Just be glad my son isn’t
in any of your classes. That boy is the bane of his teachers’ existences. It
will be a miracle if he graduates.” She laughed as she walked out of the room.

Gretchen
set the violets down on the table next to John’s bed. Lynn griped about her
son, but the smile in her eyes said he couldn’t really be as bad as she made
him out to be. Still, Gretchen couldn’t help but be glad she wasn’t his
teacher.

After
watering the violets, she sat down next to John. He already looked so different
from the first time she had seen him. His bruises were starting to heal.
Instead of black and purple, his skin had lightened to a mottled brown and
yellow with a few splotches of deep purple that lingered where the more serious
injuries were. The casts would stay on for another six to eight weeks, but many
of the stitches were already beginning to dissolve. Even the cuts were looking
significantly better. The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor was reassuring
white noise Gretchen heard without really noticing anymore.

He was
healing. At least his cuts and bruises and broken bones were healing. What was
happening to his brain? Nobody really seemed to know. Information from the
nurses had dropped off in the last few days. Unless something changed, which it
didn’t, they didn’t have any news for her. They kept encouraging her. Keep
talking. Keep visiting. Have hope. He’ll wake up soon.

Gretchen
clung to those thoughts.

She told
herself it was because then he would be able to explain what happened and go
home, ending her sense of responsibility. Everyone could go back to their
normal lives. Which was mostly appealing.

With it
being her first year teaching on her own, it had been chaotic. That day had
been no exception. She vented her stress by telling John about the flamboyant
English teacher who spilled coffee all over Gretchen’s shoes before first
period, about the sophomore who started crying and ran out of the room when she
reminded her class they would be dissecting frogs the next week, and the senior
who kept leaving Hershey Kisses on her desk in the hope of her bumping his
borderline failing grade up to an A.

“But the absolute
worst part of the day, and the reason I was late leaving, was getting a call
from the office to come down and speak with a parent just as I was about to
walk out the door,” Gretchen said. “I really do enjoy teaching, but sometimes
the parents are too much. This woman stood there like she was going to attack
me, and I had no idea who she was or what she wanted. To be honest, I was a
little scared.”

If the
principal hadn’t been standing there to back Gretchen up, she might have just
kept walking. Gretchen didn’t like confronting parents. It rarely ended well.
Looking over at John, she felt a smile creep onto her lips. Normally, she told
Carl about her bad days, but things had been tense between them lately.
Gretchen couldn’t help wonder if John would always try to
fix
her
problems, or just let her vent like he did now. Would things be different when
he woke up and they could tell each other about their days?  

Pulling
back, Gretchen shook herself. What was she doing? The past few days she had
found herself daydreaming about when John woke up. She would be in the middle
of a lecture and find that her thoughts had strayed from the structure of a
cell to what his eyes would look like when he finally opened them. During lunch
on Thursday, the bell startled her out a dream about him waking to find
Gretchen by his side, knowing she had been the one to take care of him.

It was
childish. The kind of thing she would see on one of those awful
Lifetime for
Women
movies, unbelievable and sappy. She realized that, but John filled
her thoughts. He might never wake up. He could spend the rest of his life lying
in a hospital bed. And even if he did wake up, Gretchen had no idea what kind
of person he was. He could be a criminal for all she knew. She was fantasizing
about a man in a coma, for crying out loud.

“I’m being
ridiculous, completely delusional,” she said to herself. “Maybe I shouldn’t
even be here.”

Gretchen
told herself that so many times that week, but the same thing happened every
time she thought about stepping away. She move closer to John’s bedside and
started talking. Walking away from him was something she couldn’t bring herself
to do. She wouldn’t let him wake up alone.

Steadying
herself, Gretchen went back to her story as if nothing had happened. “So
anyway, the mom who wanted to talk to me, she was mad because her daughter
missed class last week when I gave a test, and I wouldn’t let her make it up
because her absence wasn’t excused,” she said, trying to stay focused on what
she was talking about and nothing else.

Maybe John
would have laughed at her story of the mom forced to admit that her ditching
daughter did not deserve a chance to retake the test. Or perhaps he would have
thought Gretchen was awful for not letting the poor girl have a second chance.
There was no way to know, but Gretchen found herself able to laugh at what she
had found so terrifying at the time. Deciding John might be tired of listening
to her, Gretchen took a folder out of her bag and stared at the stack of
homework assignments which still needed grading.

Looking
over at John, she suddenly didn’t mind that it would take her several hours to
finish.

Gretchen
was halfway through the stack of papers when Lynn popped her head into the
room. “Hey, Gretch, you wanna go grab a bite in the cafeteria?”

Gretchen
really needed to tell her how much she hated being called Gretch. Lynn was so
sweet, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Dropping her pen, Gretchen
stood up and stretched.

“That
sounds great.”

Reaching
for her purse, she was grateful the hospital’s cafeteria was closer to a café
than the typical hospital food. Gretchen turned away from John just as she
heard a sound that stopped her heart.

Chapter Five

Waking Up

Lynn spun back
around and stared at Gretchen. She was still looking at her, too afraid to turn
around and see if what she had just heard was real.

“Did he
just say something?” Lynn asked.

“I…I’m not
sure,” Gretchen said.

Lynn
marched toward John. Gretchen forced herself to turn around and look at him as
well.

He looked
exactly the same. Eyes closed, bandages and tubes in place, leg up in traction.
Had she just imagined it? No. Lynn heard it, too. Lynn checked all his vitals,
reviewed the printouts from the machines, and watched John. So did Gretchen.
More like she searched every inch of his body for a clue that he might be
waking up. The beeping heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Every
passing minute drained her hope.

Sinking
back into the chair, Gretchen brushed her fingers across his hand, hoping…. She
gasped as his fingers curled up in reaction. “Lynn! He moved,” she exclaimed.

Lynn
scurried around to Gretchen’s side and looked at the loose fist John’s fingers
had made. “What did you do?”

“I just touched
his hand and he pulled away.” Reaching out, she touched his hand again. His
hand relaxed and a low moan escaped his lips.

Pressing
the nurse’s call button, Lynn asked for one of the other nurses. Maria bounded
into the room less than ten seconds later. “Is he waking up?” she asked.

“Gretch,
touch him again,” Lynn commanded. To Maria, she said, “Watch the heart
monitor.”

Taking
John’s hand once more, Gretchen watched the monitor, too. His pulse rate jumped
up as she touched him. His fingers attempted to wrap around hers, but seemed
too stiff or weak to actually complete the motion. Tears rolled down Gretchen’s
cheeks as she squeezed his hand. “Wake up, John,” she whispered.

“Should I
get Dr. Marshall?” Maria asked Lynn.

Lynn
nodded. “Yeah, he’ll want to see this.” Maria hurried out of the room and Lynn
moved closer to Gretchen. “He may stay like this for a while. This is a great
sign, but he may not fully wake up yet.”

“I know,”
she said. “I’m just so glad to have some sign that he
might
wake up.”

“I know you
do, honey. Just keep faith and be patient.”

Dinner was
forgotten by both Gretchen and Lynn. Gretchen went back to watching while Lynn
started a more detailed check of John’s vital signs and stimuli responses. She
reached up to check the dilation of his
pupils
right
as his eyelids fluttered open. Lynn jumped back, her hand coming to her throat
as she tried to stifle a yelp. Gretchen stood up and leaned closer, watching as
his eyes slowly opened and closed without really seeing.

His lips
parted and moved, but only dry, rasping sounds emerged. “He needs some water,”
Gretchen said to Lynn. “Can he have some water?”

“I’ll get
some ice chips.”

His eyes
and mouth closed again, but Gretchen watched the fingers of his right hand
wriggle in slow, testing movements. His left hand stayed wrapped around
Gretchen’s. Locked in that stage of waiting, it wasn’t until the hurried squeak
of Lynn’s tennis shoes brought her back into the room that John tried to open
his eyes again. Dr. Marshall and Maria followed right behind, and they all
watched as John’s eyes finally opened completely to stare at them.

He tried to
speak again, but his dry throat refused to cooperate. Lynn gently pressed an
ice chip to his lips and he accepted it. In a hushed voice, Lynn quickly
relayed what had been happening. Dr. Marshall nodded and approached John.

“My name is
Dr. Marshall. Do you know where you are?” he asked John.

John’s eyes
roamed around the room before settling back on Dr. Marshall. “No,” he croaked
after several failed attempts at speaking. His voice was harsh and raspy, but
Gretchen loved finally hearing it.

“You’re in
a hospital,” Dr. Marshall said. “Do you know what happened to you?”

Frowning in
thought, John remained quiet for a few moments before shaking his head. His
eyes squeezed shut and Gretchen immediately worried the movement had hurt him.

Dr.
Marshall sighed. “Well, unfortunately, neither do
we
.
This young woman over here found you in the middle of the road. It looked as if
you’d been attacked by someone, or more likely, by several
someones
.
As it is, we don’t even know who you are, either. You were brought with no
identification whatsoever. But, now that you’re awake, we can get your
information and let your family know where you are.”

“Who…I am?”
John asked. He let his head fall back to the pillow and closed his eyes.

“Yes. We
need to get your name, address, insurance information, so we can get you taken
care of and sent home. One of the nurses will take everything down.” Dr.
Marshall turned to Maria as he said, “Why don’t you set up another MRI, and
let’s get him a consultation with the physical therapist.”

Maria
nodded and was about to leave when John spoke and stopped her. “Wait.” He shook
his head again, slowly. “You don’t…know who I am?”

Dr.
Marshall frowned, his ever present weariness showing plainly. “No, I don’t. No
one does. Miss Gesner found you and brought you in with no identification. Just
tell Lynn your name and we’ll get this cleared up.”

“I can’t,”
John said, trying but not succeeding in lifting his hand.

“And why is
that?” Dr. Marshall said.

“Because…I
don’t know,” John said. “I don’t know what happened…or who I am. I can’t
remember anything.”

Lynn had an
odd half-smile on her face, like she was waiting for John to say he was
kidding. Maria looked confused, and Dr. Marshall’s face turned up to the
ceiling, as though he couldn’t believe his bad luck. Gretchen didn’t know what
to do or think. A few minutes ago her hope that she would truly get to know the
man she had been watching over all week seemed to have been reached, but now
she realized she knew more about him than he did.

Overwhelming
sadness filled her. It wasn't for herself, but for him. He had nearly lost his
life, and now he had just woken up to discover that his life was the only thing
he had left. Whatever else once encompass his world was now gone, stolen away
by whoever nearly killed him.

What was he
going to do?

Realizing
there was a whole discussion going on around her, Gretchen came out of her
thoughts and tried to pay attention. Dr. Marshall was arguing with Maria and
Lynn about what to do next. Maria thought she should still order the MRI, while
Dr. Marshall wondered if they should speak to the hospital director first. No
memory meant no insurance. Lynn looked ready to deck the doctor at the
suggestion they postpone treatment because of John’s situation. Dr. Marshall
backpedaled, claiming he only meant they should let the director know what was
going on first.

Their
conversation hadn’t been worth tuning into. It was a county hospital. They
would have to keep and treat John until he was well enough to go home. Home.
What would that even mean for him? The thought of being turned out with nothing
was terrifying. Looking over at John, she saw worry in his eyes, too. There was
little doubt in her mind that he was wondering the same thing she was.

“Hey,”
Gretchen said to him, “are you all right?”

“I…don’t
know,” he said. “I feel awful. My whole body hurts.”

“Well, you
look a million times better than when I first saw you,” she said. She squeezed
his hand lightly, making sure she didn’t cause him any more pain. “You’re
getting better, though. It will just take a while.”

John stared
at their linked hands. His eyebrows furrowed as if he was wondering why her
hand was there. Or he might have been in pain. Gretchen suddenly had a very
strong desire to pull her hand away and try not to blush. What was he thinking
about her?

“You found
me?” he asked.

Gretchen
nodded. His eyes closed again. For a long moment, he said nothing. He seemed to
be taking his time, maybe trying to focus his mind on the words he wanted to
say. It took him a while to get everything organized.

“But you
didn’t see what happened to me, and you don’t know who I am?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,
I don’t. When I found you, you had already been attacked. I don’t know what
happened,” Gretchen said. He didn’t have a lot of hope to begin with, but what
little he did have seemed to dissolve at her answer. She wondered if the
reality of his situation was beginning to sink in.

“What are
you still doing here?” John asked suddenly.

Gretchen
couldn’t stop herself from pulling her hand away. It was hardly the reception
she’d been hoping for. All week she had imagined what John would say to her
when he finally woke up.
“What are you still doing here?”
hadn’t even
been on the list. Gretchen could feel her face heating, so she looked down at
her jeans and mumbled, “I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it like that,” John said, shaking his head again. “My head…it’s
hard to focus and think straight. I just meant, why would you stay when you
don’t even know me?”

Looking up,
Gretchen scanned his face, trying to gauge whether or not he meant it. If he
didn’t want her there, she wouldn’t force herself on him. Seeing honesty in his
face, she let herself relax. Maybe he didn’t think she was a stalker after all.
Gretchen was about to answer his question when Dr. Marshall stepped up to the
foot of the bed and interrupted.

“In
addition to the MRI and the consult with the physical therapist, we’re going to
schedule you an appointment with the neurologist here in town, and if
necessary, up to Albuquerque for additional testing when you’ve recovered
enough.” Dr. Marshall glanced over at Maria and shooed her off to make the
calls. Gretchen stifled a smile as Maria sneered at his back before leaving.

“We’ll keep
you here for another day or two to monitor you and run a few more tests, but
most of your injuries are healing nicely. As long as your tests results come
back normal, we should have you out of here in a couple of days,” Dr. Marshall
said to John.

“A couple
of days?” John said. “Where am I supposed to go after that?”

With a
shrug that showed he didn’t have the answers John wanted, Dr. Marshall said, “I
don’t know,” and walked out of the room.