They’re there, the memories, but I can't reach them. They're just out of reach, hidden behind a swirling curtain of fog.
"Hey, don't worry about it. You're gonna be okay. We can…we can talk once you're up to it. For now just rest."
I blink twice—I don't want to rest. I don't want to go back into the drowsing dark.
I shift my gaze to the wired remote thing connected to the hospital bed, focusing on the call button.
He follows my gaze. "Want me to call them?"
I blink once.
He presses the call button, and a minute or so later the door opens to admit a young woman wearing maroon scrubs and white sneakers, auburn hair pulled up into a messy bun.
"Oh! She's awake!" Her smile is bright and eager. "Welcome back, Ms. James! How are we feeling?"
"She can't really talk, I don't think," Felix answers for me.
"Oh, that's perfectly normal. Her body was shut down for quite a long time. It'll take time for her to get it all back." She peeks at the monitor, checks a chart on her iPad, flashes a penlight into my eyes, one and then the other, pokes the bottom of my foot with the clicker of her pen. "Seems like she's doing pretty well, all things considered. I'm gonna go get Dr. Richardson, okay? He'll check you out and go over a few things with you guys. Think you can stay awake a bit longer?"
"Mmm…hmmmm." I blink once.
The nurse grins at me. "We've got a fighter on our hands, huh?" She pats my foot over the scratchy white blanket. "Be right back."
Despite my assurance to the nurse, it's harder with every passing minute to stay awake, but I'm scared of falling asleep.
My mouth is dry. I look at Felix, squeeze his hand—squeeze is a generous term, though. "W—wah…” the rest won't come out. I manage to get my tongue across my lower lip. "Wah—"
"Water?" Felix guess. "Thirsty, huh?"
I blink my eyes once, wait, blink once again.
"Alright, I'll get you some water. I'll have to ask the nurse, though—all I have is old coffee." He kisses my hand again. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Just popping out."
He pulls away and stands up, and the terror I feel at his distance is shocking. My heart pounds and the monitor beeps faster.
Don't go—don't leave me. Not you, too.
He doesn't even leave the room, just pokes his head out—his words are muffled, and then he comes back to me.
He notices the speed of my heart, sees fear in my eyes. "Hey, hey, I'm here. I’m here." He takes my hand, and immediately my heart rate slows. "There you go. You're okay. I'm here, Ember."
The same nurse swishes into the room with a Styrofoam cup with a plastic lid and straw. She rolls a tray over to the bed, lowers it, and puts the cup on it. "Let’s get you sitting up a bit, huh?"
She presses a button, and the upper half of the bed hums quietly as it elevates me to a reclined sitting position. She removes the bottom half of the straw wrapper, stuffs the straw into the cup, and whips off the top half. Places the straw between my lips.
"Just little sips at first, okay?"
I suck a tiny bit of cold water into my mouth—it's shocking, like a blast of cold air. My mouth seems to absorb some of the liquid before I can even swallow. I hold the water in my mouth for a moment, swirl it a bit with my tongue, move my jaw around—eventually, I swallow it. And god, that feels good.
"Ready for more?" she asks.
"Mmmm-hmmm," I say, the affirmative not much more than a hum. Still, it's communication, right? It counts.
"Here we go—another tiny sip. Not too much." The nurse touches my lips with the straw, and I pinch them around the plastic O, pull in another tiny mouthful. My throat is so dry it hurts, scratchy and sandy-feeling. Once again, I swish the water around my mouth, swallowing even the tiny amount in fractional portions.
"Good, good." The nurse waits patiently until I'm ready for more.
Swallow by swallow, she helps me quench my thirst—or at least drink enough that I no longer feel genuinely parched. I only stop when it feels like my stomach can't handle any more.
