Page 106 of Insincerely Yours
Coach continues with the plan for the day and divides the class up into four different teams to play basketball. The first two go play on the court as the rest of us remain on the bleachers. He passes me a stern glare that silently communicates my staying put.
No argument from me.
When I’m sure everyone’s attention is on the game, I slowly slink away to the corner of the gym, grateful for the large trash bin nestled against the bleachers. Tears pour off my cheeks, but it’s not from embarrassment anymore. Stumbling over to the bin, my breakfast comes hurling back up as I brace myself against the rim of the trash. Everything in my vision starts to go dark, and I must waver, because the wheels on the bin roll sideways, taking me with it.
“Go get the nurse, now,” orders Coach to someone behind me. “Ali—”
My weight gives out, and Fisher barely manages to catch me before I collapse.
It takesthe nurse barely a minute to determine I need an ambulance. Worst of all, when the paramedics come to pick me up, I cross paths with Jase in the hall just as class lets out. On top of my already massive list of pains, my stomach develops another.
Because I can’t bear the thought of him looking at me. Not like this. Broken and defeated as I’m wheeled out of the front office.
Yet, when he passes right by me without so much as a glance, my stomach drops altogether. Things don’t get any better from there. When my parents arrive at the hospital, I’m once again far too stupid and hopeful to assume there might be some concern formywell-being. Instead, I’m met with frustrated sighs, my parents upset over their plans for tonight possibly being messed with, and Blythe’s constant bitching about how uncomfortable the hospital chairs are. You know, the important things.
It doesn’t come as any shock when the doctors confirm I have a concussion, but dread settles in when they suggest I stay the night. After one of the most miserable, painstaking days of my life, I want nothing more than to just go home. I want to draw down the window shades, close my bedroom door, and lock the world out. I just want to be alone, in my sanctuary. Even though I still feel like I’ve been hit by a car, I implore the entire staff to let me go home, telling them all about how I’m suddenly feeling much better. No dice.
To my everlasting relief, a friendly face finally greets me shortly after I’m transferred to my own hospital room.
“Bubba!” Despite the pain in my head, I practically spring up from my bed at the sight of my brother, but Blythe’s reaction isn’t so enthusiastic.
When Derek heard the news about my fall, he bailed on his final class for the day and drove four hours to make sure I was alright. I can practically see the steam pumping out of Blythe’s ears as she lectures him about “the dangers of neglecting one’s studies.”
“I’m pretty sure Ali’s more important than my afternoon Econ class,” he says, brushing past her to sit at my bedside. “What little misadventures have you been up to now, Evel Knievel?”
I chuckle, but it doesn’t sound too convincing as I sum up my concussion as nothing more than “a mishap.” Yeah, I’m a liar, but with present company,myversion of events will be swiftly shot down in favor of something more plausible.
Derek stays and hangs out with me for the next couple of hours before the nurses return to take me away for about the billionth time. They’ve run every test in the book, and I’m positive at this point that they’re just making crap up. All the poking and prodding proves to wear me out, because I wound up dozing off in the mobile bed they place me on while bringing me back up to my room.
My assigned nurse, Agatha, wakes me up a few hours later to check my responsiveness. She regrettably informs me that she’d have to do that every now and again throughout the night.
That’s not what bums me out the most.
I’m awoken to an empty room.
Blythe had insisted the entire time Derek was with me that he needed to head back to school, since it’s a long drive and he has early morning practices to attend. He must have finally relented, but not before leaving me a sweet parting gift. There’s an adorable plush penguin sitting on the tray beside my bedwith its head wrapped in bandages, and it holds a stuffed heart that reads, “Get Well Soon.”There’s also a box of contraband chocolates sitting beside it with a note from Derek apologizing for having to leave. That still doesn’t explain the other two missing people from the room.
The look on my face must be a dead giveaway, because that’s when Agatha relays a message from my stepmom, telling me that both of my parents left for the night and that they’d call me later.
Is she serious?
They left their unconscious child alone at the hospital?
Derek calls me when he gets back to campus, and when I inform him that Blythe and Dad bailed on me, he’s livid. My brother promises he’ll come right back and pick me up, but he doesn’t have the authority to get me released since he isn’t my legal guardian, and we both know it.
Evening turns into night, and all I can do is hug the stuffing out of my new plush penguin, trying to fend off tears that threaten to fall. The last thing I want to do is cry. Sure, it could be cathartic, but it’ll also make my pounding migraine infinitely worse. It doesn’t help that my hospital bed appears to have been built by Satan. It’s one of those stupid “smart beds” that adjusts itself every time I shift, and it only gets harder and harder with every movement. I’ve never had back pain in my life, but it doesn’t take long before I’m in agony! Plus, the original nurse I had when I came to the hospital couldn’t get the needle for my IV in, and by the time she finally managed to find the vein, the crook of my arm was bruised like a MoFo. It feels like someone had jammed a pencil in there instead of a needle. Between that, my head, my bruised fingers from Sienna’s shoe, and my newly acquired back pain, I feel like I’ve been hit by a car.
The hospital doesn’t have set visiting hours, so loved ones can stay with patients all night long if they wish. My door is leftpartially open, and I watch as a bunch of people are joined by friends and family walking the halls. And here I am. In pain. With no one. No parents to comfort me. No sister. No brother. No friends.
And I hate myself for thinking of Jase. I can’t shake away the image of him and Sienna all over one another, probably enjoying their Friday night in one of their beds, as I lie here in torture.
To add insult to injury, nurses and staff members continue swinging by my room to do checkups, restock supplies, and deliver my meals, all asking where my family is when they, too, observe the child abandoned in the empty hospital room.
By the time the next person approaches my room, I pretend to be sleeping just to avoid having to hear the question again. The only thing worse than getting someone’s pity is having to get it from a stranger.
I hear two set of footsteps, one making its way into my room as the other pauses at the threshold.
The woman by the door makes sure to be quiet, but I can still hear the confusion in her voice. “I thought Dr. Hayes said she could be released for home care when her test results came back.”
