Room 1013

Hospital Walls

"Excuse me?" Lance leaned on the hospital desk, tapping the toe of his boot on the ground.

The lady behind it was older, chubby, and had coiled brown hair tied up in a bun. Her face was molded into a permanent scowl painted over with an ugly pink lipgloss. The smell of cigarettes wafted from her polka dot scrubs. "How can I help you?"

Lance gave her a charming smile, "I was looking for some information on a patient that was here about seven years ago? I was here when I was nine."

"Oh really?" She spoke in a snarky yet monotonous voice, not establishing any eye contact as she moved papers around. "Who is the patient?"

"Well," he thought for a moment, scratching his head, "I just wanted to know who visited me when I was here."

She took in a frustrated breath, practically rolling her eyes without moving them. "It isn't possible for us to search back that far. There's no way to tell."

"You don't have like a sign in sheet or anything from then?" He hung back on the desk.

She shook her head, "Sorry, sir. I can't help you."

Lance sighed and stepped away from the desk. He hastily ran to Texas, so how was he going to find this guy? Was there any way that he could? He just left his school and family to find someone that may not even be there. He mentally beat the shit out of himself.

He walked out the door and went to a Chinese restaurant. While eating his food, he pulled out a notebook and uncapped a cheap black pen. He had to think about this for a while. It was so long ago. Any ideas, smart one? He tapped the pen against the paper and stared at his plate. He pulled out his phone and went into his notes to look over the list of hospital staff involved in his coma. He could ask them, but would any of them know? The best bet would be to ask the nurses. He quickly finished his meal and headed back to his hotel room.

The next day, he returned to the hospital. He skipped up the stairs, following the signs to the pediatric unit. Everything felt vaguely familiar, but after all, he was asleep almost the whole time. He walked up to the young nurse behind the desk. Her light brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, highlighting her cute round face.

Lance leaned an elbow onto the desk and gave her a charming smile, "Hello there."

An adorable smile painted her face, "Hello! How can I help you?"

"Well," he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sticky note, "I'm looking for these guys. Are any of them around?"

She picked up the list and read over it, "Um, okay. So, I know Nurse Evans still works here." She hummed as she looked over the other names. "And I believe that Nurses Mack, Julie, and Tyrece are around here somewhere."

Lance took the list back and tipped his head, "Thank you, m'lady."  He turned and walked down where she told him to go. One of the nurses had to know who the boy was. Lance hoped they did. It was a strange request, and he didn't have a lot of information either. But he had to at least try.

"Lance?"

Lance turned around to face the man that he had just passed. He was older–maybe forty, dark chocolate skinned, and held a warm and playful aura.

He smiled wide, "Lance McClain?"

He nodded, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," he chuckled and held a hand to his chest, "I took care of you when you were here. I'm Nurse Mack."

"Oh!" Lance nodded and softened his face. "Sorry I don't really recognize you. It was so long ago."

Mack gave a friendly wave, "Nah, you were just a child." He looked him up and down, "Wow! You've grown so much! How's the health?"

"I'm doing really good." Lance felt slightly uncomfortable, but it was slowly subsiding.

Mack tiled his head and scrunched his eyebrows together, "Then why are you here, kiddo?"

"Oh!" Lance shifted his weight and looked around the hall, moving to let a doctor by. "I actually was hoping someone could help me find something."

"Well, I'm sure I can help. What are you looking for?"

Mack was nice. Lance felt a little bad that he couldn't remember him at all. His eyes drifted as he explained, "So I've had a problem lately. See, I've been getting these, like, flashbacks? Or maybe they're just hallucinations or something? I don't know, I just–" He noticed Mack's interested but confused stare and tried to speed it up. He took a quick breath to recollect his thoughts. When he was ready, he raised his eyes to meet Mack's. "When I was in a coma, did someone come see me?"

"Well," he tapped a finger on his chin, "your parents were here pretty often."

Lance quickly interrupted with a slightly raised hand, "Not them. Like," he let his eyes fall again, "like a boy? Probably young?"

Mack's jaw immediately dropped as he stared into his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't get it out.

Lance waved his hand, "That's alright, I can go ask around."

Mack placed a hand on his shoulder when he turned to leave, bringing him back into the conversation, "Wait!" Lance gave a questioning look at his hand, then his face. Mack let go of him, "Um, are you talking about a little boy?"

Lance perked up, "Yes! He would've come to see me when I was under. I just started getting these random flashbacks and I wanted to know what they were about."

Mack's shocked expression softened into a smile. He wasn't scary to Lance anymore. It was like talking to an old friend. Mack nodded, "I think I know who that could be."