Dream A Little Dream of Me

Keep Your Faith

Each day I'm forced to remain in the hospital feels like a week. My anxiety has felt weeks long. No one talks to me about Lauren. Whenever I ask about her, they change the subject. My brother visits me everyday, and Nurse Aminah has become one of my biggest supporters. She and some of her nurse friends have been helping me with my day-to-day tasks. I've needed help bathing, which is embarrassing yet humbling. But they're very careful of my broken bones and casts, as well as being gentle on my open wounds and bruised ribs. Nevertheless, Lauren is constantly on my mind and it makes me sick to my stomach each day that my mind wanders to her.

A week after the accident, I'm allowed to go home. It's bittersweet. Nurse Aminah, as much as I don't want to admit it, has felt somewhat like a mother to me. I let my guard down involuntarily quickly with her, and I feel a sort of loss when I have to leave her. She wants me to visit, though.

Zachary takes over for Nurse Aminah and wheels me out to his car—our only family car now. The pressure builds inside my chest as we travel further down the hall, towards where the waiting room is. The sun's rays strike my face. I squint my eyes. Zachary's Toyota sedan sits on the curb in front of us. When he and Nurse Aminah attempt to lift me, I don't try to help lift myself. I'm terrified.

Nurse Aminah looks down at me with an understanding look in her mocha eyes. She's been doing this long enough to understand why I am afraid of what's in front of me. She attempts to lift me once more, and I try this time. I don't want to let either of them see the welled-up tears in my eyes.

I stand, balancing my weight on my left leg. I look down at my casted foot. My stuffy sniffles give way to my despair. I can't hold back my tears anymore.

"I don't wanna go in the car," I cry to them. I look away from my brother as I do so. We're close, but it embarrasses me when I cry in front of him. It's easier for me to look at Nurse Aminah.

She shushes and coos me, rubbing my back with her opposite arm, the left. We take baby steps to the car.

"I know it is painful. You will get through it," She says, with a slight roll of her R's.

I internally acknowledge her but continue with my weeping. They help me gently get into the vehicle without placing all my weight onto my broken leg. I think of Lauren as a sit down into the passenger seat, and I wonder if she is even still alive. This thought rips me apart, and it hurts more than any possible damage a vehicle could cause to my physical body.

Nurse Aminah leans down to me. "You will be okay. You are strong, Miss Isa. You must believe in yourself and trust in your faith, and everything will fall into place," She talks in a low volume to me, not quietly, but so that only us two are involved in the conversation. I nod once. She hugs my left side, my uninjured side, and as nervous as I am, I accept the fact that I have no other way to get home aside from walking. And that, unfortunately, isn't an option right now.

I thank her, and I tell her I will be sure to visit when I am capable. She assures me to rest up and to take care of my mind and body. I listen.

Zachary shuts the door and joins me on the opposite side after talking to Nurse Aminah for a few moments. I see him through the side-view mirror shake her hand. Once he plops down next to me, he slowly puts his seatbelt on. He turns the key into the ignition and turns on some soft-rock. He looks at me, but I don't look back, so he turns the music off. I'm glad.

"I promise I will be careful," He waits for my reaction. "Okay, Bells?"

I nod. He begins to drive out of the parking lot of this section of the hospital. He goes to make a left turn into the street, opposite to oncoming traffic. He has enough time to go before the cars coming from the left come near us, but I still jump and cringe as he proceeds on. He makes it with plenty of time, but he still looks at me questioningly. I keep my gaze locked onto the dashboard.

I count to 60 a few times in my head as we continue the drive. I make it to 60 three and a half times until I decide to glance my eyes upwards and towards my window. We approach another intersection as the light ahead remains green. My eyes dart quickly up to my righthand window as we speed through the light, and a scream emits from my throat. Zachary averts his gaze away from the road and to me, but I'm looking down into my lap. My hands are shaking like a feather in the wind as the water from my eyes drips onto them.

"Are you alright? What's wrong? You're okay! Bella? Bella?"

Zachary pulls into the next parking lot we approach and parks in an isolated spot. I cry freely now, letting my guard down again. He looks at me as if I'm a problem he's never faced before.

"Bella..."

"I don't like it! I don't like it!"

"Bella—"

"I don't like it! Why did it happen? It's my fault. It's my fault! It's my fault!! Maybe if we weren't arguing, I wouldn't have been driving so fast, and it wouldn't have hit us, and we would be okay, we would be at the beach, we would be together, we would both be okay and she wouldn't be hurt, and is she dead? Is she dead? Zachary, is she dead?"

"Bells, it's not your fault; you're not the one who drank and drove—"

"If we were anywhere but there this wouldn't have happened. She doesn't deserve this. Is she dead? Zachary? Is she dead?"

"She's not dead."

I inhale sharply. Butterfies that once lied dormant begin to flutter around my bruised ribs. For the first time in a week, I finally begin to feel the anchor lift itself from my chest. Simultaneously, a million other questions fill my mind.

"Where is she? Is she okay? What happened to her? She's alive, right? She's alive? Where did they take her? What did they operate on, when they did the emergency surgery? Did they fix her? Is she okay?"

Zachary looks up from his lap, a strained look on his face, wrinkles filling his forehead.

"Let's go see her."