Jesse

30: Numb

30: Numb

            First, before anything I heard ripples of sound, but not clearly: it was as if I was floating beneath the surface of water, somewhere deep down below, in a dark wavering abyss. Above me I could see a slowly glimmering reflection of light, so very far away. I wanted to reach out and touch it; just to hold a glimpse of the light taunting to me.

            An unexplainable feeling began to swim through my body, flowing through my veins; it carried life, and made me feel alive again. I wasn't drowning. I heard the most beautiful sound in my life now; it sounded as if it came from heaven, something of a harp, and I felt myself weightless drifting. The light was growing brighter. The light this time was taking me.

            My eyes snapped open, and were met with bright, fluorescent rays. I quickly wrenched them shut again. I opened them again, and let my eyes adjust, feeling terribly lightheaded. Everything was white. White ceiling. White surrounding blinds. White chairs. Was I in heaven? Was this how heaven looked like?

From somewhere nearby, I began to hear a steady beeping. I blinked; I was in a hospital, lying on a hospital bed. Why was I here? What had happened? I looked saw my left arm was strapped with an IV, its rack just beyond my reach, pumping fluid. My eyes scanned down I saw my mint green gown, and felt my chest was braced, and wrapped up with some type of medical cloth.

            I felt so damn stiff. I wanted to move, but couldn't. The pain in my face was subtle now, but it was still there. I was staring blankly now, feeling tears come. I was still alive. I was alive. And here. I breathed in the air, my lungs panging as I did; and I could taste the sterile, clean air. Suddenly, I felt so exhausted, and my heavy shut.

            In my dreams I saw Harold. I heard his shouting. Felt everything happen again. Like it had. All those words he had said. Every punch he had thrown; every slam of the bat he had given me. It all flooded back, and when I woke again, I remembered. I knew why I was here. I had nearly died. My own father had nearly killed me. But I was here. Thank God. Alive.

            This time the fluorescent lights had been turned off; it was dark. Where was Ian? He had saved me. I heard snoring. I had to struggle to turn my head, and in the shadows of furniture, beneath a wide-spread window I saw Ian, slumped over sleeping. I could see even in the dark, he hadn't shaved in awhile. There were rings beneath his eyes…

            How long have I been here?

            I wanted to tell him I was awake, so I tried to open my mouth. But I couldn't! Shit. I lifted my right hand to feel, and felt course wiring holding my jaw in place. My eyes widened; Harold must have broken it. Damn.

            I just lay there pathetically, and eventually slipped back into unconsciousness.

            Two weeks went by with my mouth being locked up like it was for the healing to take place. Two weeks of drinking nothing but liquids and pissing in a bag. It sucked. I had only been in the hospital a few days I learned the first I woke up. Since, I couldn't really have conversations with anyone…I had to shake my head for yes and no, and sometimes grunt. And so that was what Ian’s and my conversations consisted of. He stayed with me for the longest times—he had actually spent the night the first couple of days I was here.

            But then Dana told him he should go home for a better rest, and I nodded for him to do that as well; he needed a good sleep. The furniture here didn’t look too comfortable. And the bags under his eyes showed that he hadn’t really slept well over the course of being in the hospital with me. But he tried to be there as much as he could possibly. The only time Ian wasn't with me was during school, because he had to go there; and since football was over now, he had no other place to be besides work. And that was only a few days here and there, since he worked part-time.