Amazon High

25. Public Eye

 I had the news on as I half-assedly looked through the poorly laminated hospital kitchen menu for the thousandth time to decide between a burger and fries or pizza, both which tasted like they'd been sitting soggy and pre-made in a freezer for four months, when I saw shots of the Allen campus on the news. I turned up the volume.

"Usually pitch-black this time of night, Allen High School is lit up with the fire in its students' hearts. Students and faculty alike came together tonight to hold a prayer for fellow student Alex Amato's recovery - the girl who saved the varsity baseball team's lives on their return from a game in Winterhaven. Just looking at this we don't have to tell you she's rocked the community."

The b-roll footage they flipped through looked almost identical to the news spot about Danny's candlelight vigil after he died. I got shivers and had to turn it off. I chose the burger and fries and scarfed it down indiscriminately.

The nurse came in early one morning while the bright, morning light pierced through the translucent curtains.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." I nodded.

"Energy-wise?"

"Kinda restless, actually."

"Your dad dropped off some clothes. Do you want something to eat?"
"I had dinner late last night, I'm all good, thanks."

"Okay. Let's get you up."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, grabbed my arm gently and helped me sit upright. "Okay, just swing your legs over, and we'll rest a second. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three!" She tugged me up and to the right as I picked my legs up and swung them over the side of the bed.

I got lightheaded and grabbed onto her.

"Whoa, you okay?"

"What the Hell," I huffed and puffed, "is this what it feels like to be old?"

She chuckled, "you've been through a lot. Don't feel bad. I bet you'll surprise yourself with how fast you'll get your strength back."

"I hope."

"Okay, take a few minutes. Do you think you'll be able to get changed by yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

I grabbed the bag in the chair next to the bed. In it was my red high tops, jeans, a tank top, a hoodie, and fresh socks and underwear. It felt like Christmas.

"If you need anything," she started, "don't hesitate to hit the remote."

"Hey, uh, is there any way I could take a shower first?"

"We have a common showering area down the hall. But I'll go with you, okay? Let me go get you some water and I'll be right back."

I showered and changed and felt like a new woman. I could definitely feel that I'd become weaker, but I had a lot of pent-up energy. A weird place to be in. Mostly I was happy to have my clothes on. You'd think it was a little thing, but wearing a hospital night gown for weeks puts you in a weird place. I think we attach our identity to our clothes. I don't mean that you have to meticulously pick out a certain style for yourself and maintain it, like heroine chic and scene kids. But just the fact that you bought those shoes, and were gifted that shirt - you chose to wear them. We take that for granted.

I sat at the bench in the hallway outside my room and finally got a look at all the other patients. There was a burn victim that could do nothing but stare silently at the ceiling while his family sat all around him with their heads hung down at the floor. There was a man laying alone with his leg raised. A nurse came in, helped him piss into a bucket, turned the TV on and left quickly without saying a word. The man sighed and stared blankly at the TV. Then there was a woman in the middle of a seizure. Nurses rushed over and tended to her. So many in fact that they obscured her completely. I looked away from it all and grabbed at my arms and legs and thanked God that I was okay in the form of a long, deep breath.