The Life of Esther Jameson

Chapter Four

I woke up hearing beeping sounds like actors would hear after being in a coma from all the movies I've seen. I opened my eyes and looked around. I saw Jenny, Luke, Mrs. Wayne, and Jackson sitting next to me. Was I dreaming? I opened my mouth to speak, but I got a dry throat instead. Jenny noticed that I was awake and practically tackled me with a hug.

"I thought you were gonna die," she sobbed into my hospital clothes.

I smiled weakly and caressed her sweet face. "It's okay, Jenny. I'm right here." I assured her. "And I don't think you can get rid of me that easily."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jackson stand up and quietly guide his mom out and closed the door behind them. Jenny kept crying and I looked around me. A typical hospital room with plain white sheets on my cot. Some extra blankets were piled in a corner, which I reasoned belonged to either Jackson or my siblings.

"My turn, Jenny," Luke poked Jenny softly.

"There's room for both of you," I said and pat an empty space next to Jenny.

Luke seemed to be happier at the suggestion and snuggled in. Luckily, we all fit. I felt a thousand times better now that we were all together.

March 4, 2015

I've learned two things that scared me. 1) I've been in a coma for five days and 2) Jackson left yet another diary entry. Does this guy have no sense of privacy? I read what he writes and it always hits me that he might actually care about me. It's pretty incredible that anyone would give me the time of day, but someone liking me is scary and bizarre.

Luke and Jenny have been staying at the Wayne house since I've been - um, let's just say "asleep." When everyone stopped crying, they had told me that Mr. Wayne had spotted our dad while on patrol (probably on his way to a bar) and mentioned that the three of us had stayed over for the night. I don't blame him, he was just making conversation with a guy he used to know really well four years ago.

I remember that Jackson and I used to hang out together a lot when we were kids despite our flaming hatred for each other at school. All of the birthday parties and park days that I remember had him in the picture. Our parents had always smiled at the two of us when we would play in the sandbox or push each other on the swing set and I didn't know why they would smile like that until now. I remember back in 7th grade he started calling me names; that was when I really started to dislike his face. He would tease me about my hair and always call me out during class. I hated it when that happened. But, now that I think about it, he never really talked to anyone else during recess or after class. He would only speak to me.

A knock on my door jerked me from my thoughts. I quickly snapped my diary closed and called the person in. I thought it would be the nurse, since they always seemed to come at the most inconvenient time to poke me with their sharp needles.

But, alas, it was something slightly worse.

"Hey, Esther," Jackson ran a hand through his black hair. A nervous habit that I noticed he did a lot. "How're you holding up?"

"I don't feel great," I admitted, no use lying to him now. "But I'm getting better."

"That's good," he shifted his weight awkwardly at the side of my hospital bed.

"How was school?" I asked, not intending to shower him with my sass at the present moment.

"It was alright. Nothing much happened." He said casually.

"That's good. Sit down," I pointed to the chair by my bedside. "It's great that I'm getting better, but these meds are not my first choice."

Jackson nodded, placing his backpack on the floor beside him next to my slippers. "Do you," he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully. "Want to talk about - "