Blink Once (17 page)

“It’s bumpy back here, isn’t it?” Mom said. It was dark, we were moving, jerking forward. “We’ll be there soon; it’s only twenty minutes, they said.” She looked worried, her face tired and lined. From the back windows I could tell we were in the ambulance, driving. The sunrise was red and pink, bright like a grapefruit.
Red sky by morning, sailor take warning.
But I’m not going on a boat, I’m going into surgery. What does that red sky mean?

All at once I remembered the dream, and the feeling of being lifted. I was still pretty drugged up when the orderlies came to get me this morning, but I remembered it now: the two guys sliding me into the back of the ambulance, Mom getting in. Dad was there, too. He must be driving behind us; that’s why Mom kept checking out the back window every time we took a turn. “Almost there,” Mom whispered.

And Olivia. Was that a dream, too? No, it was real. I saw her. She came to me, like I knew she would. Last night. I woke up and she was beside me, watching me sleep, curled against me, her long hair tangled around her pale face. She said my name over and over again and touched my face until I was awake enough to see her. But it wasn’t a dream. The memory washed over me as I dozed off in the ambulance.

“I know it’s your decision to make, your life. I know that now, but I have one thing I have to ask you,” she whispered. “Come back for me. No matter what happens, come back for me.” I blinked yes quickly and watched her face. “No matter what,” she said sternly. Her eyes were almost terrifying in my dark room; I couldn’t see any emotion on her face. I blinked again and she curled up beside me, holding my hand. “You won’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here, West. Promise me.” I could hear in her voice that she was crying. “Please come back for me, come back for me.”

Most people I knew, even adults, would never admit that they were scared. Or that they missed you. Or that they really loved you. Why were people so afraid to say things like that? Why was I? It wasn’t cool. It showed weakness. But that didn’t make sense. It actually showed that you were strong, that you were real. I loved Olivia for teaching me that. And there was no way I was about to forget her, or not come back to her after the surgery, no matter what happened.

“I know you will, I know you,” she murmured as we fell asleep together. I didn’t even worry that Mom or the nurses would come in early the next morning and find her there, sleeping against me, because it didn’t matter anymore—what could they do to us?

The ambulance backed into a loading area at the hospital as Mom said, “We’re here!” brightly. She rubbed her hands over her face and glanced at her watch. “Seven thirty, plenty of time.”

When the orderlies parked, they came around and opened the doors, letting Mom get out first, then pulling me out feetfirst. They put the wheels down and rolled me through two big double doors. The guys went to talk to the hospital officials while Mom stood beside my bed. The portable ventilator must have been somewhere, under the bed or attached, because I could feel it pushing air into my lungs in a steady rhythm. Dad walked in just as the guys were ready to wheel me into the elevator. “You’ll have a chance to say good-bye upstairs,” the red-haired guy said. “But they’re ready to take him right in.”

“Okay,” Mom said. I saw her holding Dad’s hand in the elevator as we made our way up. When the doors opened, they rolled me out and down a long hallway where we ran into Dr. Louis.

“Hello, good morning, welcome, how are we doing?” he said.

“We’re nervous but ready,” Dad volunteered. I heard Mom gasp out a sob. Dad hugged her in quickly and she cried hard into his shoulder. “She’s just …”

“It’s hard, I know,” Dr. Louis said. “But remember, things are about to get much easier. This is what we have to do to move forward from this place, and you don’t like being here; you don’t like West being like this.” He looked over at me on the bed like I was a rotten steak he wanted to send back. “It’s time for us to help West, all of us. Isn’t it?”

Mom stopped crying long enough to nod her head as she wiped her nose.

“And so we will,” Dr. Louis said with a quick smile. “The nurses will show you to the waiting room, which is down the hall. You can wait there. They will also give you a beeper so we can contact you if you are on another floor; they will explain everything. In a few hours, we’ll know more.” Then the doctor turned to the person standing behind him. “Can you take him to OR, thank you.”

“Wait!” Mom said. “I have to say something first.” She leaned over me and looked into my face. “We’re right here, can’t wait to see you after. We’re right here, West, the whole time, okay?” I blinked yes and saw the relief wash over her face. I could tell, she was suddenly strong. Maybe the doctor’s pep talk had worked.

“Go get ’em, West,” Dad said awkwardly as they rolled me away. Once we were in the large white operating room,
things moved quickly. There were five or six people there, and they all moved efficiently; sometimes I couldn’t tell whose hands were on me and where. One person was swabbing my arm for a needle, another was checking my trach, someone was injecting a syringe into my IV. They all talked to each other as if I weren’t there, as if I were asleep already, or invisible.

“Have you seen this procedure before?” one woman asked.

“Amazing.” The guy standing over me nodded. “Dr. Louis is the real deal, brilliant. I just wish he’d take on more residents.”

The woman shrugged. “Some of them don’t like a bunch of students asking questions, you know, they just want to do their thing.”

“All right,” the man on my left said as he capped off my IV tube, “this guy is not waking up anytime soon.” I knew what he was talking about a moment later as I felt whatever he had injected into me take hold—icy cold in my veins, my mind fuzzy.

“Can you check the tray for a small punch forcep?” someone said, and I thought for a second they were talking to me. I turned my head to look for it, whatever it was, but that side of the room was suddenly empty. On the other side, everyone was gone too. I was alone. Where were they? I could hear music playing softly, classical music, and it felt
so good and warm to just lie there. When I closed my eyes, I saw a hazy blue light, as if I were at the beach. I noticed Frankie, my old golden Lab, was down by my feet, keeping my legs warm, keeping me company. I hadn’t seen him since I was eight, when we’d had him put to sleep. “Frankie,” I said. “Good dog, that’s a boy.”

I’m coming down the escalator at the mall. I’m so high up I can see everything. I can look around and see everyone, what everyone is doing. They are all like characters in a video game, moving around busily, like ants. Standing still and watching everyone else move makes me so happy; I love the feeling of calm washing over me. No one even sees me there. I’m coming down the escalator for a long time and I want it to last longer and longer. I close my eyes.

The sun on the lake is so bright that even with my eyes closed I can feel it coming through my lids, sparkling off the water, the reflection like mini-fireworks twinkling. Her hand is on my back. “Tell me again,” she says, “what happened.” She runs her hand over the scars. When I turn, I
can’t see her face. I shield my eyes from the glare, but I see only a shadow of a girl sitting next to me—her silhouette, a black cutout.

Someone is crying. “No, no.” A girl is crying, sobbing. “Don’t, don’t …”

Olivia.

A phone is ringing. “How do you turn this off?” someone is saying. “They shouldn’t even have this in here.”

Mom.

I couldn’t see, couldn’t open my eyes. I heard shuffling noises—someone was near. My hand came up to my eye, and I felt … tape. A thick piece of tape from eyelid to mid-cheek. I tried to pick it off, but then I stopped.
I’m dead. I’m dead, and when I open my eyes, I’ll be in a coffin, in a morgue.

“Oh, you want that off?” a voice said. The tape was peeled back carefully and I saw a face, a woman I didn’t know. “Hi, I’m Tracy. I’m your nurse.” She spoke very slowly and carefully. “You’re in the hospital; you’ve just had surgery.” She peeled the tape off the other eye and I could see the entire room. “You were in an accident. Don’t try to talk; you have a trach tube in. You’re breathing on your own so we’re going to remove that tomorrow, okay? Raise your hand if you can hear me.” She smiled when my hand went up.
“Stay calm, I’m going to get your parents; just relax.” I raised my hand again.

My hand.

I looked at it. It was my hand.

I moved my toes. I bent my knees up. Something jabbed in my stomach, hard. I felt around and found a big tube, like a vacuum cleaner tube, taped to my side and going into my lower abs. It hurt like hell to touch it.

My head was pulsing with pain. It felt like there was a band around my forehead, like a hat that was on too tight. But when I reached up to take it off, nothing was there.

“West!” Mom raced into the room, “Oh, honey, how are you? How are you?” She looked terrible, like she hadn’t slept in days. “How do you feel, oh, you’re moving! Look at that”—she turned to Dad—“he’s moving! He’s moving!”

A huge grin spread over Dad’s face. “Well, they said it went great, but it does feel good to actually see it with your own eyes, doesn’t it?” he said. Mom was jumping up and down like a cheerleader, yelling with excitement. She stopped and tried to collect herself. “How do you feel, do you feel okay?” she asked.

I moved my hand up to my head and touched my forehead.

“Your head hurts?” she asked.

I pointed to my forehead again, then made a thumbs-down sign. “Okay, I understand,” Mom said quickly, but
weirdly she had this huge grin on her face, like me being able to tell her I had a headache was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She put her hands over her face and started crying again.

The nurse stepped around them and held up my wrist. “I’m just going to check everything out, West,” she said, then turning to my parents, said, “The headache is very common with this type of procedure; it’s more like a migraine from a spinal tap. I have something I think will work, but I think the doctor is going to want to see him before we administer that.” Then she turned to me and asked loudly, “Did you understand that, West?” I raised my hand, but my head was hurting so bad I had to close my eyes.