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“Six weeks. It’s February now,” he answers.
Where are the boys? Daddy?I write next, and Rain frowns. She shows the board to everyone, and Mama goes pale. I frown, shaking my head.What’s going on?
“Miss MacAllister, do you know what year it is?” Dr. Davies asks calmly.
I erase what I’ve written with my hand and write,2020.
“What’s going on?” Granny asks.
The doctor tells them he needs to speak with me privately and to please leave the room. They all kiss my forehead and leave,promising they’ll return as soon as the doctor allows them back in.
The nurse walks into the room as Dr. Davies pulls his tablet out.
“Miss MacAllister, I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you can write the answers down. Are you ready?”
I nod in agreement.
“Can you tell me your name?”
Ruin MacAllister.
“Very good. How old are you?”
I turned twenty in August.
“Where do you live?”
Azalea Creek?
“Who do you live with?”
Mama and Daddy, Granny, River, Miles, Merlin, and my twin sister, Rain.
“What do you do for a living?”
I help around our orchard and in our diner. I also go to school.
“What do you study?”
Biology.
“Where do you study?”
Highlands Community College.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
I look around, trying to think, but nothing comes to mind—everything is foggy.
“It’s okay. Things can be blurry for some time after a head injury. As I mentioned earlier, it’s a miracle you survived the accident. We had to put you in an induced coma to help with the brain swelling. There’s nothing to worry about.” Dr. Davis gives me a curt smile. He says something to the nurse that I can’t quite hear, and when he leaves the room, the nurse moves closer to check my vitals.
“Would you like some water?” I nod, and she brings me a glass of water with a straw. She places the straw on my lips, and I take a tentative sip. The water going down my throat feels amazing; it’s like, little by little, my body is coming back to life. After a few more sips, the good nurse sets the glass back on the cart.
“Now that you are awake, we need to schedule some physical therapy. As you can see, you broke a few bones, but they’ve been healing nicely. We need to start working on your mobility, and once the casts come off, more therapy will be needed so you can start walking independently.”
My hand hurts from writing. I guess I’ll have to do physical therapy even for the hand that didn’t break.
“How much longer will I be here?” I try to use my voice. Even though it comes out low, the nurse smiles brightly at me when she hears me.