Rain (12 page)

I managed to pry my eyes open and regretted it once the light attacked them. I moaned, wanting the light to die.

“Taylor?” a voice asked.

“Too…bright,” my voice rasped, sounding like I hadn’t spoken in a year.

“Try again,” the voice said.

I slowly reopened my eyes, and this time the lights were off. I wasn’t in my room; this room was white and immaculate. The only things in the room were medical instruments. A nurse watched me and then began checking my vitals.

“You are in the ICU. You have been very sick,” she told me.

I noticed that I was hooked up to a monitor and an IV.

“I’m going to page your doctor,” she informed me.

I didn’t move or say anything. I still felt heavy and achy. I could also use some water before I tried to speak again. I was surprised that my parents weren’t with me.

Before long, Dr. Arenstam was in the room smiling warmly at me.

“Welcome back, Taylor,” she said.

“Where have I been?” My voice cracked as I asked that, thinking she was crazy. I was pretty positive I hadn’t gone anywhere. I hadn’t moved from this bed.

“Taylor, you have been unconscious for a week. You were extremely sick,” she told me as the nurse finally brought me water.

I took a sip, the cool water bringing relief as soon as it entered my mouth and slid down my throat.

“A week?” I asked, surprised. “I thought I just had a cold?”

“A week,” she confirmed. “A simple cold can sometimes be deadly to someone on chemotherapy because the drugs hinder the immune system and it is harder for your body to fight back. Your body struggled and fought extremely hard, and with our help, you made it through it. We made your room sterile and had to limit who entered and how much so you were not exposed to any more germs.”

Now my parents’ absence made sense.

“When can I go back to my room?” I asked.

“We just need to run a few more tests, but it looks like you are stable, so hopefully later today,” she told me, smiling.

Then I was poked and prodded some more. I noticed more bruises scattered across my arms. I needed to start wearing long-sleeved shirts apparently. My arms were not appealing to look at anymore.

A few hours passed before I was able to go back to my room, where I found my mom, dad, and—to my surprise—Kyle waiting for me as the nurse rolled me in. My heart did a little flip at seeing him. He was disheveled; his eyes were dark, and the skin underneath his eyes looked bruised. His hair was messier than normal, and he gave the impression that he had not slept in a long time. Even his clothes were wrinkled.

His mouth drew into a full smile as he saw me, making my heart do another flip. I was so focused on him that I was oblivious to my poor parents, who were just as happy to see me. My priorities were clearly a little messed up.

He stayed back as both of my parents rushed in front of him and hugged me. I still watched him as I let them embrace me. My mom was crying. She had definitely hit her crying quota for, like, ever.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she sobbed into me, and I felt my heart tear.

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“I was just so scared,” she continued, holding on to me like she was never going to let go.

I knew she had been scared. I had heard her; I just hadn’t understood why. I could have died and I might not have even noticed. That was a bit unnerving. I knew I could die, but I thought I would be able to see it coming if it were to happen. Apparently I’d been very wrong and hadn’t been prepared for the realization of that uncertainty. Every time I went to sleep, I expected to be able to see my parents again; I was awaiting the next time Kyle and Liz would show up. These were the people who mattered to me, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye—not yet. Now, knowing that it was possible that something could happen and I wouldn’t be aware that it was the last time terrified me. I didn’t know how to deal with that. If I said goodbye each night, they would probably freak out themselves. I hadn’t realized this could suck even more than it already did.

“I love you,” I told my parents, emotion thick in my voice.

“We love you too, sweetie.” Dad’s voice caught, tearing another piece of my heart. My heart would feel like it had been put through a shredder by the time this was over—if it were ever over.

Mom pulled back and wiped her hand across her face to get rid of the tears before tugging at my dad. He looked confused, and I was a bit confused too, but my brain still felt foggy.

“Come on. Let Kyle visit for a bit,” she told him, dragging him away from me and out of the room.

My dad was shaking his head. “There is no arguing with your mom,” he chuckled as they exited the room.

Kyle gave me a lazy smile as he made his way to me.

“Hi,” I said softly once he reached me.

“Hi,” he parroted back, his eyes glued to mine. He lifted his hand up, and it looked like he was going to reach for me, but then he froze and placed his hand on the side of my bed instead. Maybe I’d imagined it, but it had really looked like he’d wanted to touch me. Maybe it was because I wanted him to.

“You look like how I feel,” I blurted out and then clamped my mouth shut. Why had I said that?

He smirked and raised his eyebrow. “And how is that?”

“Like crap,” I said softly.

“Ouch. Is this what you say to all of the guys who come to visit you?”

“Actually, yes,” I said more confidently.

“Really…” He dragged out the word, and his eyebrow seemed to get even higher.

“Considering you are the only one,” I finished.

His eyes flickered darker and then softened again. “I was worried about you and may have been here for a while…” he admitted, glancing down at his black shoes. Then he peeked back up at me again, looking a little embarrassed.

“Why?” I questioned, wondering also how long he had been here.

He didn’t look like he knew how to answer. “We’re friends right?” he asked almost hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“When my friends are in trouble, I’m there for them,” he said.

Looking into his eyes, I believed it was more than that vague answer. He was holding something back, but I was too tired to fully analyze or try to push for more details. I still wished I knew what was going on behind those deep brown eyes of his.

“Thanks,” I started, swallowing, “for being here.”

“I’m really glad you are okay, Taylor,” he told me, smiling warmly.

I wasn’t sure why, but tears threatened to spill when he said that. I sucked in a deep breath, pulled the little courage I could find, and wrapped my hand around the arm that still held the end of my bed, tugging him toward me. He looked confused.

“I want a hug, but I can’t get up,” I admitted lamely.

He leaned down over me and drew me to him carefully, encasing me in his arms. He rested his head against my neck, and I felt him relax and release tension that I hadn’t even noticed he’d had. My pulse sped up as I breathed him in, trying to keep his smell with me; I needed to find out what his cologne was one of these days.

Now that I had him hugging me, I didn’t want to let him go. I relaxed into him, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. I felt him move his hand, touching a piece of my hair. His steady, warm breath on my neck tickled, and I resisted giggling because I didn’t want him to move.

Closing my eyes, I imagined that we weren’t in the hospital and that I wasn’t sick because then maybe this would have meant something more. My heart fluttered at thinking about the possibility. Oh boy, I had it bad.

He set me back against the bed, but I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize it had happened until he spoke.

“Fall asleep on me?” He chuckled.

My eyes flew open to him staring at me with a smirk on his face. Oh crap. “Huh? No… I’m just…tired,” I stammered. His smirk widened, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

“I would volunteer as a pillow, but your dad might strangle me and he finally just stopped staring me down.”

“True,” I laughed, still blushing. “You aren’t very comfortable anyways,” I teased. He just smirked, and his eyes danced. They were always so alive.

“I better go and let you rest and let your parents have time with you,” he said as he gave me another hug, but this time he didn’t linger.

I wanted to tell him not to go, but I knew he had a life outside of this hospital. A life full of motorcycles, music, and anything he wanted to do, and I couldn’t be part of it. I had never been so incredibly trapped before, and I felt like I had no life outside of these walls anymore. Anger built in my chest; this wasn’t fair! I wanted out of here. I wanted to be able to do things again and go a day without throwing up. I wanted to be able to make plans and get to know Kyle more outside of this hospital. My jaw clenched, and I wanted to yell in frustration.

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked, concerned, and I looked at him again.

“I want to be able to go,” my voice rasped.

Sadness filled his eyes, and he stepped toward me again. “If you go, you won’t get better.” His voice came out smooth like liquid.

“What if I don’t and the rest of my time is spent like this?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by my question. He came closer and picked up my hand, holding it in his. It felt oddly familiar, even though this was the first time he had held my hand. There was not a hint of a smile on his face. It had fully softened, and he looked almost vulnerable—something I hadn’t seen in him.

“Don’t give up, Taylor,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded like we had known each other longer than we had and it would matter a great deal to him if I died. It brought tears to my eyes; I hadn’t even been able to get a reaction like that out of Austin.

I blinked, trying to push the tears away, but one escaped, running down my face. “Okay,” I whispered, my gaze never wavering from his.

With his other hand, he brushed his fingers over my cheek, removing the tear. My breathing ceased, and I was caught up in his actions. I didn’t understand them, but it didn’t stop me from savoring the moment. He seemed to genuinely care, and I had never had a guy react like this toward me or look at me as intently as Kyle was looking at me now. If he was asking me not to give up, I wouldn’t. He could probably ask me to cluck like a chicken right now and I would probably do it. I would most likely be embarrassed later, but right now it wouldn’t have fazed me.

The door opened, and Kyle immediately let go of my hand and stepped back from me. I wanted to throw something at whoever had opened the door and ruined my moment. Kyle broke eye contact with me and turned to smile at my mom. Okay, maybe I didn’t want to throw something at my mom, but could she have had any worse timing?

“Bye, Taylor,” Kyle said without meeting my eyes.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Mom told him.

“I was about to leave anyways,” he responded. Mom just nodded at him, and he slipped out the door.

“Dad went to get some food. Are you hungry?” she asked. I shook my head no, and I saw worry build in her expression again.

“Will you help me to the bathroom?” I asked.

Mom hesitated, and I could tell she didn’t want me to get out of bed.

“I’ll be okay. You will be with me,” I coaxed, really wanting to try to get out of bed for a minute. I wanted to see what I looked like.

“All right,” she agreed with an unsure voice.

She came and helped me sit up, which took more strength itself than I’d expected.  I held on to her, and she assisted me to slide off the bed and stand up for the first time in I wasn’t sure how long. My legs were wobbly, and I put most of my weight on my mom. She pulled the IV stand with us and slowly walked me to the bathroom. Luckily, it was close.  She took me to my good friend the toilet, and I sat down.

“I’ll call to you when I’m ready,” I informed her so she would leave me. I was way past the age of going to the bathroom in front of my mom. Awkward.

She hesitated again, but then left me without saying anything else, shutting the door behind her.

Once I was done, I managed to get up and hold on to the nearby sink. I washed my hands and then looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I shouldn’t have looked.

Oh my god, I looked like a freaking plucked chicken. A lot more of my hair had apparently fallen out since I’d last seen it. Not only had a lot of the hair on my head fallen out, but I had lost most of my eyebrows and some eyelashes as well. This time, the tears didn’t just threaten my eyes; they broke through and started pouring steadily down my face. My hair was not pretty anymore—another thing I had taken for granted, always hating and wanting to change it. Now I just wanted it back, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen until I stopped getting treatment. It was time to do something I’d never expected to do before this happened—chop it off.

“Mom!” I cried. I swear it wasn’t even a second after I called for her that she rushed through the door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, panicked, her eyes wide and searching for something.

I just pointed at my hair. Sorrow filled her eyes. Everyone had done a good job with not letting on that I now looked like this.

“Can you get scissors?” I asked, pleading with my eyes.

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault,” I sobbed, and she held me tighter. “Could you… Could you get me a wig?” My voice cracked.

“Of course, sweetie. I’ll try to get one by tomorrow. Do you want to wait to cut your hair until then?” she asked.

“No, do it now. Please,” I begged. I didn't want to look like this anymore. I would just have to hide under a blanket until I got the wig. Although I thought being bald would look better than what was going on with my hair now.

“Okay, stay here and I will go ask a nurse for some scissors.” When she let me go, her eyes were watery and she gave my hand a small squeeze before she left to find the scissors. I leaned against the sink and waited for her.

Before long, she came back and stood behind me with scissors at the ready.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

I swallowed hard and shook my head up and down.