“Because
otherwise, I’ll have to turn you both in.”
I twisted the silver
charm bracelet on my wrist. “Community service? Like cleaning up parks?” Not my
style, but then neither was expulsion.
“Sort of. But with your
talent in drama, I have a different assignment in mind for you.”
That word different had
me apprehensive. “Like what?”
“Well, it has to do
with reading…”
~~~
And so I read. For over
an hour. In between the whoosh of air and the beep of the machine that must
monitor the sleeping brain, I read about a man wrongly imprisoned, a crazy
monk, and a lost treasure until the sound of a throat clearing breaks the
forming of syllables.
“You read well,” Mrs.
Wallace says from the doorway.
“Thanks,” I say
genuinely surprised by the compliment because I hadn’t really been trying.
Shelving the book, I make sure to catch the title, The Count of Monte Cristo, for tomorrow. The title sounds familiar
has me recalling fried bread, raspberries, and ham. A sandwich? My empty
stomach gurgles at the thought, but I will not eat until dinner. What’s the point of working out if you’re always snacking?
“I suppose you want to
know about the accident. What happened to Zach. ”
Noooooo , not really. “Sure. I mean of course I’m interested.”
She twists her hands
and leans against the doorframe. “In May, he and some friends were hiking, but
he got separated from them and fell from a cliff into a ravine. Though the
bruises and gashes are long gone, he’s been in a coma since then. Over four
months.” She rubs the corner of a wet eye. “He’ll turn eighteen next month.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s
an awful thing to happen to him and you.” Being so freaked, I’m surprised the
sadness in my voice feels real, not acted out. I can’t help but respond to the
pain in her face or the anguish in her voice.
She waves a hand and
forces a smile. “There’s only hope now. They say the more interaction the
better chances he’ll wake up. So you’ll be back tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I say with
a fake conviction not the resentment I have for Mr. Block making me do this. I
reach for my purse on the dresser.
She moves aside, lets
me out of the room that feels like living death and I step in the hallway. She touches my arm. “I can’t thank you enough
for donating your time. After moving him here and paying for the extra nurse
care that insurance won’t cover, there’s not enough to pay for such services,
but I wanted him to be home.”
Donation? More like a
bribe. Not that she has anything to do with that end of it. “No problem. I love
to read.” Yeah, while trying out for
parts. “And it’s for such a worthy cause. I don’t mind.” I do mind. I missed my nail appointment.
Now I’ll be getting late home from the gym. Mostly I missed after school hang
time at the beach. I dig in my bag for my sunglasses. “Same time tomorrow?”
She nods and smiles. “Nancy, his nurse, will
let you in. She’ll still be here taking a break downstairs while you read, just
in case something happens.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s
good,” I say before descending the stairs that lead to his second floor
bedroom. Why couldn’t I be talented in science or even math? No one would want
someone to crunch numbers to their son in a coma.
~2~
“Hello Zach.” I set my non-fat vanilla
latte on the dresser. “How’s your day been going? Mine been positively,
gloriously awful,” I say in an exaggerated British accent and reach for the
book I’ve been reading for the past five days. The dang thing is never ending.
“Senior year isn’t starting out as cracked up as it’s supposed to be.”
I’ve been doing this,
talking to him when I come and go. Though I still won’t go close to the bed or
him, I’m hoping this will make me feel like he’s a person instead of a body
kept alive by machines. With the breadth of inner thoughts I reveal to him—I’d
never tell a
otherwise, I’ll have to turn you both in.”
I twisted the silver
charm bracelet on my wrist. “Community service? Like cleaning up parks?” Not my
style, but then neither was expulsion.
“Sort of. But with your
talent in drama, I have a different assignment in mind for you.”
That word different had
me apprehensive. “Like what?”
“Well, it has to do
with reading…”
~~~
And so I read. For over
an hour. In between the whoosh of air and the beep of the machine that must
monitor the sleeping brain, I read about a man wrongly imprisoned, a crazy
monk, and a lost treasure until the sound of a throat clearing breaks the
forming of syllables.
“You read well,” Mrs.
Wallace says from the doorway.
“Thanks,” I say
genuinely surprised by the compliment because I hadn’t really been trying.
Shelving the book, I make sure to catch the title, The Count of Monte Cristo, for tomorrow. The title sounds familiar
has me recalling fried bread, raspberries, and ham. A sandwich? My empty
stomach gurgles at the thought, but I will not eat until dinner. What’s the point of working out if you’re always snacking?
“I suppose you want to
know about the accident. What happened to Zach. ”
Noooooo , not really. “Sure. I mean of course I’m interested.”
She twists her hands
and leans against the doorframe. “In May, he and some friends were hiking, but
he got separated from them and fell from a cliff into a ravine. Though the
bruises and gashes are long gone, he’s been in a coma since then. Over four
months.” She rubs the corner of a wet eye. “He’ll turn eighteen next month.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s
an awful thing to happen to him and you.” Being so freaked, I’m surprised the
sadness in my voice feels real, not acted out. I can’t help but respond to the
pain in her face or the anguish in her voice.
She waves a hand and
forces a smile. “There’s only hope now. They say the more interaction the
better chances he’ll wake up. So you’ll be back tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I say with
a fake conviction not the resentment I have for Mr. Block making me do this. I
reach for my purse on the dresser.
She moves aside, lets
me out of the room that feels like living death and I step in the hallway. She touches my arm. “I can’t thank you enough
for donating your time. After moving him here and paying for the extra nurse
care that insurance won’t cover, there’s not enough to pay for such services,
but I wanted him to be home.”
Donation? More like a
bribe. Not that she has anything to do with that end of it. “No problem. I love
to read.” Yeah, while trying out for
parts. “And it’s for such a worthy cause. I don’t mind.” I do mind. I missed my nail appointment.
Now I’ll be getting late home from the gym. Mostly I missed after school hang
time at the beach. I dig in my bag for my sunglasses. “Same time tomorrow?”
She nods and smiles. “Nancy, his nurse, will
let you in. She’ll still be here taking a break downstairs while you read, just
in case something happens.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s
good,” I say before descending the stairs that lead to his second floor
bedroom. Why couldn’t I be talented in science or even math? No one would want
someone to crunch numbers to their son in a coma.
~2~
“Hello Zach.” I set my non-fat vanilla
latte on the dresser. “How’s your day been going? Mine been positively,
gloriously awful,” I say in an exaggerated British accent and reach for the
book I’ve been reading for the past five days. The dang thing is never ending.
“Senior year isn’t starting out as cracked up as it’s supposed to be.”
I’ve been doing this,
talking to him when I come and go. Though I still won’t go close to the bed or
him, I’m hoping this will make me feel like he’s a person instead of a body
kept alive by machines. With the breadth of inner thoughts I reveal to him—I’d
never tell a
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