Page 80 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

Going to be fine?

“Why am I not fine now?” I try to run back in time, to replay the last thing I remember, but it’s like trying to hold water in my hands. The strands of time and grainy images slip through my fingers before I even have a chance to make sense of them. “It’s like there’s nothing there.”

“Y-you don’t remember?” Alex takes a seat on the bed in front of me, holding my hand, rubbing absently like he’s trying to warm it. Or maybe even will some life into it.

“Remember what?” Again, the images slip through the gaping holes newly formed in my mind.I remember…walking in a parking lot.

“Walking in the parking lot?” I ask, thinking back.

“You remember then?”Remember what?!I start to feel frustrated. The beeps grow in frequency around me.

“I remember walking to my car on campus. What am I missing, Alex?” It takes extreme focus and energy just to push the words into existence.

“You don’t remember…” he whispers as I start crying.

“I don’t remember,” I sob.

“It’s okay,” he rubs my leg affectionately. “You will, and until then, I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

I don’t understand. I can’t. I can barely keep my eyes open a moment longer…

A damp nose nuzzles into the palm of my hand, and for the first time in a week, I’m able to turn my head to look at the intruder.Delta.

“I missed you,” I whisper to the pup, who whines in return. I catch sight of Alex, sitting hunched over in a chair, staring down at the hospital floor. His head hung, his elbows perched on his knees.

“What happened?”

“We were in a car accident.” He looks up at me, revealing deep, plum-colored crevices below his eyes.

When I nod, I no longer have to wince through the pain. The progress has been slow, and I still have a hard time staying awake. Sometimes Alex is here, but not the last two days. I hadn’t seen him for two whole days.

It makes me worried, and I can’t fully understand why. I don’t need him here, but I still want him here. When I wake up at four in the morning, I want to feel his presence. When I sat up on my own for the first time, I wanted his hands holding me. But he hadn’t been there.

“Okay,” I say, feeling far away from wherever he is because it certainly isn’t in this room with me. “You can leave, Alex.” I fight the pain in my throat that no longer has anything to do with my injuries and everything to do with whatever’s happening between us.

“I won’t leave again. I’m sorry.”Again, there’s meaning I can’t decipher in his words and it bothers me. The uneasinessinvades; the fear is here, too. I want to yell at him:What am I missing?! Tell me!But the strength to lash out doesn’t come.

“I just don’t understand,” I say, crying.

Alex stands, scooting his chair closer to the hospital bed, and Delta circles to make room for him. Taking my hand in his, he leans forward and rests his head on my lap.

“I wish this was me and not you, Em. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what to make of the words or his demeanor, but it doesn’t matter because the exhaustion is back.

january

“What are you doing here?” His voice is lowered but hard.

“Is she okay?” The second voice is barely audible.

“No,” Alex says back.

The second voice sucks in a hard breath, then the door clicks closed. My eyes ease open, but the lights are off.

I’m beginning to hate this place. The smell. The food. The constant noise and lack of fresh air. I begged a nurse to take me outside yesterday, but I only lasted five minutes before my head hung forward and sleep defeated me. My days feel strangely never-ending, even though I spend large swaths of hours asleep.

It’s unfair that I’m stuck here. That Alexhasto come visit. I’ve moved past the point of wanting him here. I don’t want anyone here.Idon’t want to be here.

Testing myself, I push up, rolling onto my side. Then, I move my legs out towards the floor. Chances of this ending in disaster feel high, but the more I keep to this bed and this room, the more I believe I’ll never leave it.