It's Me, Again

Ch. 3 (Kate)

It was....weird seeing Dylan. I'm not sure how else to describe it. I wasn't sure how I would feel when he showed up at the hospital. Would I be angry? Would I feel heartbroken all over again? Would I feel nothing for him?

I was lost in thought when I heard a knock at the door. In he walked looking just as cute as when we were together. Maybe more so now. He was a little older, obviously, more ruggedly handsome than the boyish good looks he had when we were teens. The same unruly dark brown hair, tall, athletic build, but now with a little scruff on his face. He looked good in his jeans, tee, and zip-up hoodie while I was laid out in a hospital bed in a super flattering hospital gown, bandage wrapped around my head, and probably pretty busted face. The only thing missing to complete my beautiful look was the fluorescent lighting overhead. Since the sunlight was streaming in through the windows, the lights were off. There was enough natural light in the room and according to the doctor and nurses it would help my head to not have the buzzing lights on all the time. In any case, not exactly how you want to look when you first see your ex-boyfriend again. Well, at least the first time in my memory of seeing him again anyway.

But, other than how good he looks, I didn't feel any instant feelings for him. There were no angels singing as he walked in the door. I felt a little tugging of the heart strings, but I think it was more nostalgia than anything. On the other end of the spectrum, I wasn't feeling stabby, murder-y feelings either so that's good I guess.

The visit lasted about 30 minutes and wasn't too awkward. We even laughed. I won't lie, I was so relieved that things weren't too uncomfortable between us, because honestly - I do need his help. Of course, I would lose my memory and the only person I can clearly remember who's in the country has to be Dylan. How messed up is that?

I asked him how I looked. I haven't had the courage to look in the mirror yet. I'm afraid I'll look and see stitches all over my face or something like some scary movie rag doll. He said I didn't look that bad. I guess I should believe him since I figure if I was really in a bad way his first reaction to seeing me wouldn't be a smile, but a look of horror. I ring for the nurse so she can bring me a mirror.

"Hi Kate, what can I do for you? Everything okay?"

"Hi Nurse Peters, yeah. I was wondering if...you could bring me a mirror?" I asked timidly. Still not convinced I want to look.

"Call me Nora. And sure, honey, let me go get a hand mirror for you."

When she comes back with the mirror, I start to think this isn't a good idea.

She goes to hold it up and I grab her arm, "Wait!"

I close my eyes. "I'm scared." I stay frozen there with my hand on her forearm, eyes clenched shut.

"You don't have to look if you don't want to. But, honestly, it's not that bad. I see patients all the time who are in car accidents and your injuries are pretty standard. Trust me, if you were in bad shape the plastic surgeon would've already come by to see you," she lets out a light laugh to relax me.

That's true. They would've told me if I needed to have surgery on my face or some kind of treatment for the scars.

After looking at the nurse's face for a second to see if she's telling me the truth, I say, "Okay, let's get it over with."

She holds the mirror a few inches from my face. There's some blue and yellow bruising on my cheek bones, a few cuts and scrapes but those are all superficial and nothing deep. Some burns from the force of the airbag. I've got a black eye. My forehead is covered in the gauze that's been wrapped around my head. I am definitely not ready to see that scar with all the stitches and whatnot.