Dying For A Chance (7 page)

            “We don't have a choice” a muffled voice said in the darkness

            I felt their resignation, they were giving up on me. I was told it might happen but I still wasn't prepared, they would sever the spinal cord and try to reattach that peripheral nerve. I wanted someone to fight for me, why were they giving up? Weren't they supposed to exhaust every option? What was happening out there that they were just going to give up!? I screamed once out of panic and then more loudly in frustration. I knew they couldn't hear me but I was scared, so scared that it shocked me. I shouted in the darkness.

            “Stop!” I wailed and pounded in my dark prison, “keep trying, don't give up!”

            In the blackness I heard a small noise, like the shuffle of someone there with me. My blind eyes couldn't actually see anything of course but I heard something move and it wasn't me. I drew in a slow breath and listened. Suddenly a piercing cold shot through me. It tore me in half. My scream would have shattered windows if I was more than just a thought in the dark.

            The cold hand ripped into me for agonizing seconds and ever so slowly it drew back out with just the same agony. Before I slipped completely from consciousness I heard the barest whisper of a whistle, a cowboy tune.

            Dr. Swaresh's face moved in front of mine, it was late and the curtains were drawn closed. A sliver of moonlight split the room in two and fell across my bed. I moved my bowling ball of a head around and tried to sit up but everything shifted in front of me into double vision. Dr. Swaresh put his warm hands on my shoulders and eased me back.

            “Good evening Samantha, please lay back,” he sat on the edge of the bed and took my hands. I was preparing for the worst, I didn't even try to move my legs because I was sure they wouldn't respond and I didn't think I could handle it. “I have some news for you.”

            I held my breath. I knew it was going to be bad, all that pain and that cold hand. I shuddered remembering it.

            “It's going to be alright,” the Dr. smiled kindly with those soft brown eyes. “During your surgery we were able to remove the metal fragment before it caused any irreparable damage.”

            I sat there confused, what about the pain...what about the panic I had felt? “So, everything went just like you thought it would?”

            “Well,” the Dr. hesitated, clearly he didn't think I should know all the details. “There was a moment when the surgeon expressed some concern...he told me that they were about to give up and sever the spinal cord when the fragment eased out of its own accord. Like a magnet was drawing it back out, it slipped gently away and the surgeon was able to use the peripheral nerve to repair the bit of damage you've already had. We have high hopes that you will regain almost all the use of your left leg and certainly you don't have to worry about further damage. You never know what's going to happen in these circumstances, you are certainly blessed.”

            My shock at hearing the good news was palpable, I felt like leaping over the bed, like tearing off the sheets and doing a dance right then and there. I grabbed a hold of Dr. Swaresh's coat and pulled him in for a giant hug. We lingered there for a minute until I heard a small cough.

            “Ahem, you're hugging the wrong guy,” Nic separated from the sliver of moonlight and floated towards the bed. His mischievous smile was mile wide. My heart stopped at the sight of him...the whistle...he had pulled the fragment out. “See, now Dr. Hot Pants McGruff is going to get all awkward because you're hugging him way too long.”

            I stuttered and apologized for my odd behavior before letting Dr. Swaresh go.

            “It's perfectly fine Samantha,” he patted my hand and stood up to leave. “Our next step is to get you back on the path of recovery, your road is still a long one.” he smiled and left.

            I spun around to face Nic, all those warm feelings had come rushing back at the sight of him and I found myself getting flustered.

            “It was you!” I practically fell out of the bed trying to thank him, “wasn't it? When I was in surgery I heard your whistle...the Dr. says the metal came out all on it's own. That was you?”

            “Yep” he ducked his head in modesty, but threw his arms open wide like a magician after a particularly impressive trick, “I knew you needed help. I knew I could help you, it's no big deal but that's two you owe me now.” His smile was more than mischievous this time.

            “Two?” I tipped my head in confusion and thought back to when I first heard him in the hospital, I couldn't think of any other time that he'd helped me but I hated to say so.

            “You still don't remember?” Nic played with the arm of his chair “You didn't see me the first time we met but I saw you. I thought you should have another chance, it seemed really unfair that you should have to go too.”

            My head spun trying to think of what he could mean, until my mind drifted to a place I had only thought was a dream. I remembered just a hint of something, a whisper of before I was in the hospital. There was darkness and in the distance a land that looked beautiful, there was a sound like bells or music playing and then a cold hand had ripped me back to my broken body. A cold hand. I looked into Nic's eyes and a ripple of understanding stiffened my spine until I was sitting like a flag pole. The hair on my arms lifted and I felt an enormous weight settle on my shoulders.

            “Why,” I didn't know how to start, what should I have asked? What is on the other side? How did you bring me back? Is there a God? Where do we go when we die? If you sat down a panel of experts I'd bet they wouldn't agree on what to say when confronted with the ghost who brought you back from death. It was nearly too much to take in. Thankfully, a lifetime of television soap operas and daytime talk shows had prepared me. “Why me?”

            If you think I asked the wrong question. You're probably right. And that panel of experts...well they'd probably agree with you.

            Nic shifted in his chair and looked around at the walls. “Honestly?” If I could have guessed I would have said he looked embarrassed. “It happened so fast. I really thought that if I brought you back then I'd just turn around and...well, I didn't know I'd get stuck.” His laugh was half ashamed and half amused at his own mistake.

            I'm not sure what I expected to hear, but “it was all a big misunderstanding” wasn't at the top of the list. My heart made this annoying deflated sound. As if a 19 year old boy would have pulled me back from death because he fell in love with me in passing while on the way through to the afterlife?! It sounded ridiculous in my head and I had to admit that I was becoming more than a little infatuated with him which was seriously getting in the way of our friendship. I figured that if he knew what I was feeling he would regret saving me and probably want to find someone else to haunt. I wouldn't blame him if he did. I tried to change the subject.

            “So, tell me what it's like.” I wasn't a very religious person. I'd had the basic education and some of my foster parents were really avid church goers but I never really went one way or another.

            “Hmm,” Nice rubbed his angled chin in contemplation. “Well, I can't tell you much.”

            “Can't or won't?” How could he not know, wouldn't a ghost sort of have an inside pass on all that stuff?

            “Can't,” he whispered closer. “It's not that I wouldn't if I knew. It's just that, I don't really know what it is.”

            I leaned in closer to give him my full attention. “Well, just tell me what you saw. What do you see when you're not with me?”

            “It's warm,” he leaned his head back and looked through the ceiling like he was trying to make out every detail. “Those bells are playing all the time and I get this really cozy feeling. Kind of like someone's expecting me. I can't make out any place really, it's kind of floaty and it seems to change every time I look at it.”

            He snapped his head back to look into my eyes. “One time, I thought for sure I could hear the ocean. The next time, it sounded like a busy city street. But the thing is, I couldn't see water or buildings...just a sunrise on a horizon far away.” He was trying to tell me what he knew, that was for sure but I couldn't make out what it all meant.

            “So, how long can you stay?” I made sure I didn't sound too hopeful or desperate. “I mean, is there a thing you have to do and then you'll move on?”

            “No idea,” Nic pushed back from the bed. “There isn't a handbook or a travel guide or anything. Sometimes I get the feeling that there's something important I need to do, like there's something I'm late for. Other than that, I don't know.”

            He ran a hand through his close cropped hair and gathered himself up. “Well, that's not entirely true.”

            “Oh?” My heart started keeping time again and I wished it would just simmer down.

            “The last time, when you told me to go,” My cheeks reddened. “I saw that horizon and it was getting closer. I almost saw another person before I heard you yelling.”

            “You heard that?” I quickly cataloged everything else I had said while under the anesthetic.

            “Yeah,” his mischievous smile told me that he knew what I was thinking. “I think all of the afterlife heard it, you were pretty loud.”

            “When I heard your yell I realized there was something I needed to do.” I waited for him to explain.

            “All my life I've been fighting, struggling to overcome the accident and make something more for myself,” he took a deep breath. “I can do that for you.”

            I didn't really know what to say. Did he mean that he could overcome something for me, but why? He must have known I was confused so he continued to explain.

            “I mean, I have a skill that you need. I can teach you how to be strong...if you want. You're going to need therapy and after that, getting your stuff together.” I had started to understand and the single thought going through my head was something like this...'this guy came back from the beautiful, enticing shores of the other side to save me...twice.' I didn't know how it was going to happen but I decided right then and there that I would make sure he stayed with me for as long as I could keep him.

            It didn't take long for Dr. Gannushkin to figure out that Nic was back. I tried my best to keep it hidden but each time she was around Nic seemed determined to blow his cover by making me laugh inappropriately or throw him a nasty scowl. It wouldn't have been so bad but I had this feeling that she was gathering evidence for some elaborate trial. I had these weird dreams that all featured Dr. Gannushkin sitting behind a wide desk and wearing one of those big white wigs with a long black judges cape. In my dream her silver spectacles would be perched on the end of her nose and they would read out my conviction. Sometimes the verdict would be a little different but the ending was always the same. “Committed to an insane asylum” the spectacles would say before they tumbled off her nose and I woke in a sweat.

            One day, shortly after my surgery, she came to see me but she wasn't alone. She had brought someone with her. This someone was like no person I had ever met before. He was young, maybe early twenties with smart slicked hair and a nice pressed black jacket. That wasn't the odd part.

            Around his neck draped a southwest patterned scarf and tucked into his collar was the distinctive little white square that said he was a man of the church. In his hands he carried an elaborate cross and a well worn bible. Instantly my stomach flopped to it's side and did a little spin. Visions of horrible exorcism movies flashed in my head.

            “Good morning Ms. Tern,” Dr. Gannushkin smiled wider than usual and grabbed a seat for herself and our visitor. They both looked at me expectantly. “You may be wondering who my friend is. He is a very nice man, his name is Father Phillip and I thought he could help us out a little today.”

            I looked at the father, priest, pastor...I wasn't sure what the proper term was, and he grinned back at me. I could see smile lines in his golden tan. That must mean something, right? She didn't wait for me to nod before she went ahead.