“I want to marry you, not stop your dreams . . . we can still finish school and you can be a famous meteorologist.” Simon didn’t get upset, he smiled tenderly and continued. “A famous meteorologist named Johnson.” He playfully nibbled on her ear and let her take a turn on his. They lay in that little twin bunk bed and talked for hours. Claire watched them and memories flooded her consciousness. They shared so much of themselves, their dreams, ambitions, troubles, failures, hopes, and accomplishments. Nothing could stop the mutual admiration and affection of their first love.
They got out of bed and dressed wearing sweatpants and Valparaiso University sweatshirts. Claire put her hair in a ponytail. Looking at her now, she chastised herself. She needed a shower, some makeup, and definitely a brush. Simon didn’t notice. Compliments came between hugs and kisses. He thought she looked beautiful and doted on each word. They were both completely in love. They discussed the finer dining establishments near campus, Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, or Wendy’s. With a warm loving kiss they mutually decided it would be Taco Bell. No pretense, no rules, only warmth and an undying need to be together.
As they left the dorm room, Claire looked at the mess: clothes on the floor, bed unmade, a pizza box next to the trash can, and she saw the comforts of home. The scene vanished, fading to black, the feeling of love remained. After watching, all she could think was: please don’t fade. I want to keep this going. But it did. It faded.
Slowly, it evaporated, slipped away into cool darkness. Claire felt so cold. She wanted a blanket, something, anything with heat . . . please. She would beg if necessary. The cold was so . . . cold!
“Claire, the doctor said you may be able to hear us when we talk. Catherine and I have been talking to you for days for over a week. He says that you will wake up when your pain decreases and you are ready. Please be ready soon. This liquid crap they are putting in your arm may have nutrients, but you are wasting away. Catherine has had the cook prepare all the foods you like every day just in case you wake and want something.” Tony’s voice sounded close. She could sense his distress and concern. She had to wonder, if I open my eyes will he be right there. Did he say over a week? I have been asleep for over a week? How did that happen? Why was a doctor here? Claire couldn’t remember the whys or how, all she could remember were her parents, her grandparents, her sister, and Simon. Those memories filled her with hope and promise, and yet Tony sounded like he needed her. She knew she needed to go to Tony. She didn’t want to make him wait. But she felt so tired and weak. Maybe a little more rest before she opened her eyes. Someone must have put blankets on her because she felt warmer.
Along with the warmth Claire could feel the stiffness of her dress, it was sea foam green. She was looking at herself in the mirror as Emily watched. They were in a big dressing room.
“I love it!” Emily observed Claire from all sides. “It is perfect for my wedding.”
“Seriously, Em, you want me to wear green?” Claire’s tone sounded joking, but she meant it. She remembered not liking the dress, but of course she would wear it if that is what Emily wanted.
“Yes. With your eyes, it’s stunning.” Claire watched the two sisters and again became self-critical, the self she saw looked too heavy and her hair was too thick and bushy. Emily was seeing someone different as she played with Claire’s hair, twisting it and talking, “With your hair up and some dangly earrings. I know you can wear Grandma’s necklace. It has a pearl. And I will wear Mom’s strand of pearls. They will look great, and that will be my something old. You will almost be as pretty as me.”
The mention of Grandma’s necklace triggered something sad. Yet Claire couldn’t remember why the sadness came. She couldn’t seem to remember . . .
Emily, being three years older than Claire, was the bride. But she also had the responsibilities of the mother of the bride. Their mother should be there but she wasn’t. The girls only had each other. It was Emily’s wedding, yet she encouraged Claire.
“Yeah, you wish. I just want you to know John secretly loves me! We wanted to tell you, but you know?” Claire smiled at her sister and her green eyes sparkled.
“Honey, he isn’t secretive about that. He loves you, you are his little sister.”
“Yeah, I know. I have to beat the men off with sticks. Okay, I will wear green. But for my wedding, I am finding you the gaudiest bubblegum pink dress you’ve ever seen.” The two sisters laughed. Emily helped Claire out of the dress and they continued their shopping. They had so many things to do before the wedding. Together they would do it all.
Just like the little girls with the juice, they were there for one another. After their parents died they only had each other. John understood. He never tried to come between them. Even when Claire moved in with them later as newlyweds they welcomed her.
Briefly Claire could see their home in Troy, New York. Not large, it could be described as crowded. Seeing it again from afar filled Claire with affection and warmth. John worked long hours, and Emily had her teaching responsibilities. But they still managed to make Claire feel welcome. She suddenly wondered if she’d ever thanked them. She couldn’t remember . . .
The scenes faded faster now. The warmth and strength evaporated. The blackness returned and pulled her in. Claire instinctively wanted to get away from the blackness. The serenity transformed into coldness. She opened her eyes and saw it, the cold blackness staring back at her. She gasped and closed her eyes, but then she could hear the voices again coming from different directions. “Claire, are you awake?”
“Ms. Claire, please come back to us.”
Tony spoke fast, “She opened her eyes. I saw it, just a second ago.” She could feel his hand on hers. “Can you hear me?” He continued speaking to Catherine, “Go get the doctor. He’s getting food in the kitchen. Let him know she is finally waking.” And with a different tone, one of desperation and affection, he said, “Claire, please open your eyes.”
Do you know what happens to scar tissue?
It’sthestrongestpartoftheskin. —Michael R. Mantell
Chapter 21
Claire inhaled, her chest felt tight, and there was a deep ache on her right side. She tried to remember. How did she get this way? She felt so weak. She tried to move her hand to touch Tony’s, even the attempt exhausted her.
There was an odd feeling on her left arm. She turned her head to see what was making her arm feel strange. Everything blurred out of focus. The light in the room was so intense that she couldn’t see. Tony noticed her eyes squint, immediately got up from the side of her bed, and closed the drapes. He returned and picked up her hand. “It was too bright in here. I closed the drapes for you. Is that better?”
Claire tried to respond; she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was too dry. She moved her head ever so slightly, indicating “Yes, it is better.” The movement of her head made her dizzy. The inability to speak frightened her. Her eyes moistened. She closed them, and a tear escaped down her cheek.
“It is okay, you don’t need to talk.” Tony’s tone was kind and loving. “Please open your eyes again. It was so good to see your beautiful emerald eyes.” He continued gently holding her hand. Claire opened her eyes and looked at the needle taped to the bend of her left arm. As if reading her mind, he explained, “That is how you have been eating for almost two weeks. And it has some pain medicine too, trying to make you more comfortable.”
Claire started to remember: she was in the woods, came home, and Tony . . . The memory made her eyes open wider. She looked at Tony. Her eyes filled with panic. She remembered.