Awakening (3 page)

“No need to thank me, Mira, it’s my job,” she says, pulling the door shut behind her.

Danny starts to clear the mess away from dinner while I’m still pondering the feelings in my heart versus the knowledge in my head.  When the last of the trash is removed, Danny sits on the edge of my bed and leans in to kiss my forehead and I turn away from his touch.

“Pea, is everything alright?”  The hurt in his eyes breaks my heart. 

“Everything is fine,” I lie with a smile on my face, “I would just really like to be alone, if that’s okay?  I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I think I just need some time to rest.”

“As long as everything is alright, I’m okay with it.  I’ll go home and come back in the morning,” he says, finally getting the kiss to my head that he was seeking a few moments ago.  Gathering his belongings, he leaves me to my solitude, but not before leaving my cell phone next to the bed, just in case I need him in the night.

After Danny has been gone about twenty minutes, I pick up my phone and start scrolling through pictures in my gallery.  The last pictures that were taken are from graduation, and they look amazing.  All of us—Skylar, Danny, Kylee and –myself—are standing in front of the Big House, in our cap and gowns, smiling like we don’t have a care in the world.  There is something different about this picture, though; something I had never noticed –before—and probably would’ve never caught on –to—if my accident hadn’t occurred. 

In the picture, standing to the far left is Danny, followed by me, Skylar and then Kylee.  Danny and I are holding hands but standing about a foot apart, while Skylar and I are cheek to cheek and his arm is possessively wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me in tighter.  Of course, Kylee is standing with a side –profile—one she always considered her good side, if that even –exists—with her face scrunched up like a duck, standing even further away from Skylar.  If I were an outsider looking in, I would think that Skylar and I were the couple in this photograph with our best friends surrounding us. 

Before I exit from of the gallery, I send the picture to CVS to have printed so I can frame it.  I scroll through my contacts, find the person I’m looking for and send a quick text message.

Me – Hey.  Can u come back to the hospital, please?

After a few minutes of no response, I lay the phone back next to me and start to drift off to sleep.  Just when I’m at the point where the day’s exhaustion takes over my body, a notification for a text goes off.  Unlocking my screen, I see one waiting text message.

Skylar – Mira, I need time.  Ur mind has just played tricks on u for weeks while u were sleeping.  As much as I want to be with u, I need time.  I’m sry.  U should call Danny.

Me – I don’t want to call Danny.  Danny isn’t who I want with me, u r.

Skylar – Good night Mira.

Me – Sky, please.  I love you.

I end up crying myself to sleep because a response never comes in from Skylar.  He never acknowledges my plea or declaration of love.  I wake up the next morning, hoping that all of yesterday had been a dream.  I realize that it was, in fact, not a dream; it’s my stone cold reality.  My heart still wants a man who might not love me the way I love him. 

Putting my big girl panties on, I decide to face the day head on, and start working toward the new and improved Mira.  Danny arrives just in time to meet my physical therapist, Heather.  Listening to the PT tell me all of the things I need to work on and exercises I need to do, leaves me reeling.  If I can’t even sit up, how the hell am I going to walk again?

“Okay, Mira.  You need to work on lifting your legs.  Come on, lift,” Heather urges.

“I can’t fucking do it!” I scream.

“Come on, Pea, you have to at least try,” Danny begs.

“I
am
fucking trying.  It’s not working.  It’s like my legs weigh a hundred pounds.”  Exasperation doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings at this point.  My fists are tightly balled at my sides, ready to swing on the next person who makes me feel like an invalid.  And that’s exactly how I feel.

“Here, try this.  I’ll lift your leg, you hold it up.  Don’t let your leg touch the bed, Mira,” Heather tells me, grabbing onto my right leg and lifting it about six inches off the bed.  When my leg is in the air, she slowly lets go, and takes a step backward.  I hold my leg in the air, on my own, for about fifteen seconds before it falls back to the bed.

“Did you see that?  I held it up.  I did it!” I feel so empowered, like I can take on the world with this one small accomplishment.

“I knew you could, Pea,” Danny says, placing a kiss on my head.

Heather moves onto my left leg, repeating the process and I am able to hold it in the air for a little longer than my right one.  We continue this for about an hour, until I can hold both legs up for about thirty seconds each.  Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I do a sitting happy dance, waiving my arms in the air.  Danny’s laugh brings me down from my high.  I really wish Skylar was here during this milestone of my recovery.

By the end of the week, I can stand on my own and take a few steps without assistance.  Heather is going to get me a walker to practice with while I’m in the hospital.  My doctor has decided to keep me an additional week.  I’m not too happy about living here another day, let alone another week, but it’s better than leaving to go home with Danny. 

I haven’t heard from Skylar since my first night in the hospital.  No calls, texts or visits, even though he promised to visit the next night after work.  Either he’s really busy or he’s avoiding me.  I’m smart enough to place money on the latter. 

Walking down the hallway of the hospital, with the walker that Heather has commissioned for me, I am debating my appointment with the therapist.  I know I need to work through my emotions, I just wish I could do it with someone I know.  With my appointment being only twenty minutes away, it’s too late to cancel.

I told my doctor that I want to have the session in the therapist’s office instead of my hospital room.  Against her better judgment, she gave me permission.  I continue my slow pace until I reach the room marked
Dr. Shawn Payne, Mental Health
. 
Fuck, he sounds like a pain in my ass already.

I knock softly when a kind looking man opens the door.  Wearing a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans and a solid black tee shirt, he’s not what I expected. 

“Come on in,” he says, pointing to the couch in the corner of the room. 
Really? Lie on the couch and spill my guts?  Holy cliché, Batman.

I slowly walk over to the couch, bracing myself on my walker to carefully sit on the couch.  I lean back into the cool leather, letting my aching muscles take a much needed break.  This office might only be 100 feet from my room, but it feels like I just ran five miles.  Taking time to catch my breath, I watch the man walk over and sit in a rolling office chair at the head of the couch.  He better not expect me to lie down and open my soul to him like we’re old friends. 

“Mira, I’m Shawn.  I’ll be working with you during your mental recovery.  If there are any questions you have before we get started, now is the time to address them.  I really do like to have uninterrupted sessions without breaks for general questions.”

Well, what a dick.
  “I don’t have any questions.  Personally, I would like to get this started.  The sooner we start, the sooner it’s finished.  I only have a few things I want to discuss anyway.”

“Alright, let’s get started,” Shawn says as he pulls a notepad into his lap and begins writing.

I have watched this in movies and it always pisses me off.  What the fuck is he going to write in that little notepad of his?  Why is he keeping notes on my memories?  Is he a fucking moron and can’t remember what we talk about?  Shit, now I’m just looking for a reason to back out.

Taking a deep breath, I start with why I chose to see him to begin with. “I’m sure you already know from looking at my chart, I was in a coma for a few weeks.  While I was in a coma, I had some very vivid dreams that still, to this day, feel like reality.  Ok, maybe that came out wrong.  The dreams themselves, I know they aren’t true, but the feelings I experienced during my dream … those are still real.”

“Can you explain further?” Shawn asks, still writing in his fucking notepad like a ten year old girl with a brand new diary. 
Okay, let’s chat, Nancy Drew.

Loudly releasing a long sarcastic breath, I continue, “In my dream, my fiancé Danny died.  I went through the entire grieving process and eventually got over his passing.  I ended up falling in love with his best friend and moving in with him.  Now when I see my fiancé and he touches me, I feel guilty, because in my heart, I feel like I’m with Skylar, his best friend.”

“This is very interesting.  Have you and Skylar ever had a relationship, outside of him being your fiancé’s best friend?”

“We’ve all been friends since the first week of college.  We graduated and spent a lot of time together.  When I came out of my coma, the first person I saw was Skylar.  We had a conversation about my dreams and he confessed to being in love with me as well.  I really feel like I’m in the wrong relationship, and I might have been in the wrong relationship for a very long time.”

“So what’s stopping you from pursuing this new relationship with Skylar?”

“Skylar is the reason.  He doesn’t want to hurt Danny and he thinks that I don’t know what I want.  That’s why I’m here.  I need you to tell me why I feel this way and how to take care of it.”

“That’s not something I can do for you Mira.  Your feelings are yours and yours alone.  Nobody can tell you what to feel, or when to feel it.  I can say that
I
believe your feelings are a manifestation and are not actually real.  You are probably still on an emotional high from being in a coma for so long and your body needs time to reconfigure.”

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.
  This guy is a piece of work.  “What exactly do you mean ‘
a manifestation’
?”

“I read your file, Mira.  I know that you were in a serious motorcycle accident and your fiancé was the driver.  Regardless of the cause of the accident, you may be blaming him for your injuries and the time you lost during your coma.  This is the brain’s way of blocking out the bad memories and refocusing on something entirely different, hence manifesting feelings that aren’t actually there to begin with.”

Well shit.
  “I don’t blame Danny; he did nothing wrong.  I know what I’m feeling.  Skylar told me that he talked to me while I was in a coma.  I registered his words and I heard them.  I felt them,” I desperately want him to understand and stop talking circles around me with his ‘
shrink’
talk.

“Mira, doctors often tell family members and loved ones to speak to the party in the coma, as a way of grieving and getting out their emotions.  The people in comas don’t actually hear them.  You must be taking the word of Skylar, now, and applying it to your dream.”

Grabbing onto my walker and pulling my body to a standing position, I turn to face him, “Shawn, have you ever been in a coma?  Have you ever had your world turned upside down?!”.

“No, Mira, I have never been in a coma, but I have been in this line of work for quite some time,” he replies, keeping a cool and calm tone, obviously still analyzing my words as he jots notes on his yellow legal pad.

“Well, doctor—if you’re even a real doctor—until you have experienced what I have, keep your opinions to yourself.  You’re supposed to be helping but you’re basically calling me crazy.  I knew I shouldn’t have come here.  You’re all the same; condescending and belittling.  I have no further use for you!” I yell, turning my walker toward the door to leave, wishing I could walk on my own.  It would be so much more dramatic.

“I urge you to reconsider, Mira.  I think I can really help you with the troubles you’re having,” Shawn says, not even standing from his chair or looking me in the eye.

“I’ll pass.  If I want poor guidance, I’ll call the psychic hotline.  I’ll figure this out on my own,” I say, walking out the door of his office and making the long trek back to my room.

After about fifteen minutes, I am safely back in my bed, alone and exhausted.  I must have slept for a few hours, because when I wake up, it’s nearly dinner time.  The food service worker brings my dinner into the room, placing it on the tray at the end of the bed.  She attempts to move the tray closer to my upper body, when I lash out and throw the tray across the room.

“I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that,” I apologize to the kind young girl who looks terrified. 
More guilt is exactly what I need
, I think sarcastically to myself.

“It’s okay, you look upset.  I’ll bring you another tray.  Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back,” she says softly, without judgment.

“Don’t worry about it.  I’m not hungry anyway.”

The young girl leaves my room and I lie back on my bed.  As I’m about to drift back to sleep, my hospital room door opens.  Danny and Skylar walk into my room, quietly.

“Pea, what’s going on?” he asks, looking at the mess of food on the other side of the room.

“I’m fine, just tired of this place,” I say with my eyes closed, not wanting to see the look of disgust or pity in their eyes; which I’m sure both of them have.

Skylar stands at the wall opposite my bed, not looking at me or even acknowledging my presence when I finally open my eyes.  His actions are really starting to piss me off and are making my current mood even worse.

“The doc said you can go home tonight, if you feel up to it.  What do you say, Pea?  Ready for us to take you home?” Danny asks with a grin on his face.  I know he’s happy to get me out of here, and I should be happy to leave as well, but the thought of going home with these two scares the shit out of me.

“If he said I can go, let’s go,” I say, sitting up in bed.

“I’m going to grab all of your things, and pack them up.  I’ll take them down to the car and pull it up front.  Skylar, help Mira get downstairs, please.”