Page 74 of Nothing Less than Magic
Dr. Sadie shrugs and plasters on a faint smile, her way of telling me that I’m not stark raving mad, but wrong just the same.
“Look at it this way,” she says. “It sounds like it was a wonderful way to the pass the time.”
I’ve been moved to the west wing of the hospital, which I’m told is a good sign. According to my nurses, it means that if physical therapy goes well, I’ll be leaving here soon.
It also means that I’ll have one less visitor. Uncle Sylvester left for LA this morning to get back to his life but promises that he’ll return as soon as possible.
I haven’t seen or heard from Lolly since the day she walked out of my room without even a backwards smile or the decency of saying goodbye.
The one constant is Austin, who hasn’t missed a day since I got here. The nurses have all told me that the only time he’s left my side is to go home to sleep and shower.
But it’s different in the west wing. For one, I’m sharing a room. And from what I’ve heard, the staff enforces strict visiting hours. Besides, Austin has a law practice that needs him and presumably a fiancée who’s furious that he’s neglected her for his ex-wife.
That’s okay, because I can use the alone time to come to terms with what has happened—or rather, what didn’t happen—in the last three weeks. Despite assurances from Austin that no one has been to the cabin in over a month, I’m having trouble separating fact from fiction.
Katie and her bright red hair and the bough of flowers tattooed across her chest, serving up Ghost Ghouls at a furious pace. Sadie and her cheating husband, whom she doesn’t want to leave because she needs financial stability. Ginger talking endlessly about the boy who saved his dog from drowning. Amanda and her cousin, the firefighter who stole Sienna away only to make her miserable. Madam Misty, Universal Diviner.
And Knox.
Sweet, wonderful Knox and the countless times I start to call him to tell him about my day. About Dani, the former pediatric nurse who transferred to trauma but still wears her bright and festive kiddie scrubs. About Michael Hart, the ER doc who looks strikingly like Knox (the coincidence of that is not lost on me). And Rihanna Prince, the duty nurse who claims I saved her marriage (so take that, Mr. Naysayer).
How can there be a hole in my heart from missing all these people so much when they didn’t even exist? The truly desperate part is that I sometimes wish I could’ve permanently stayed in my own hallucination. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to come to terms with losing the life I had there. It’s like waking up from a dream that you’ve won the lottery only to learn that your bank account is as empty as when you went to sleep.
I find myself crying a lot. The nurses say it’s normal to be depressed after a long illness. How do I explain that it has nothing to do with my injuries and everything to do with all that I’ve lost? Or more accurately, all that I never had.
Ronnie visits me in the afternoon and brings me a new screen saver for my phone. The old one was cracked in the accident. But my actual phone, along with the rest of the contents of my purse, survived.
“I guess we’ll have to reschedule all of November’s lectures,” I say.
“Don’t worry about that now.” Ronnie is removing my old screen saver and putting on the new one. “Just focus on getting well, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
I acquiesce, though the truth of the matter is, we’ll probably have to reschedule the rest of the year. It’s impractical to assume I’ll be up and running full speed even by December. It’s a light month anyway, with only a few appearances before the holidays start.
“Ronnie, did I have my laptop with me during the accident?” The question only occurs to me now, even though I distinctly remember having it in my dream.
“No. It’s still in the office. Why?”
“Can you bring it to me tomorrow?”
“Not if you’re going to work. Doctor’s orders are that you rest.”
She’s right. But other than a few hours of tests and therapy, the days here are long and boring. “I won’t. But I’d like to be able to email my uncle and sister. It’s difficult on my phone,” I say, which is the truth.
“Okay, but only if you promise that’s all you’ll use it for.”
“Scout’s honor.” I give her a three-finger salute the same way Knox did on the bridge, except it never happened. And yet, everything about that day is still so vivid and clear.
“I have a little gossip if you’re up for it,” Ronnie says.
“Yeah?” Ronnie and I have always maintained a professional distance, a tone I set when she first came to work for me, so I’m somewhat surprised that she’s willing to share gossip with me. And a little touched.
“Before you tell me, I just want you to know that I bought you a lovely handmade bar of basil soap at the farmers’ market in Ghost during my coma-inspired hallucination.”
“Uh . . . okay. Thanks, I guess.”
I laugh, realizing how ridiculous I must sound, realizing that people are tired of constantly having to tell me that none of it was real. “So what’s the gossip?”
“I met Mary, Austin’s new fiancée. I didn’t even know he was engaged until she came to the hospital that first day when you were brought in. At first, I thought it was really nice of her. I mean, we were so scared that we were going to lose you, and Austin was a mess. It was great that she was here to support him, right? Except, I’ve since come to learn that she’s not as nice as she seems.”
