"You have to wake up, George darling," I purred, fondling his dark, disheveled tresses.
"Not if I pretend like I don't hear you."
"It's raining, my angel." The words flowed so smoothly, yet sounded so silly.
"'Tis? Aye, that's going to make getting home a little difficult." His hand slipped to my leg. "I've never been called an angel before. Is that a good thing?"
"Yes, but I take that back. You can't be an angel with a mind like that." My own hand pressed against his tight, hard lower abdomen.
"'Course I can. If you say I am, I think that's enough."
Quite a mental picture that was, George as a divine entity. Sitting on a cloud, halo slightly lopsided... I couldn't see it, nor did I want it. He was more than that.
"C'mon, up! I have to get you washed and fed before too long."
That sounded way too maternal for my liking. After herding him to the bathroom to shower, I went to the kitchen and cooked a more suitable breakfast than what we had been eating, pancakes. Maybe I wasn't Julia Child, but I made do with what culinary talent I had. I was spared criticism because George politely ate whatever was placed in front of him. Graciously, he helped me take care of the dishes before I left him to bathe myself. Shivering as the clothes dropped to the floor, I looked over my body and made mental notes. How could anyone find me attractive? Not only was I too short and skinny but I wasn't as full-chested as I wished I could have been. The hot, cleansing water dripped down and beaded on my shoulders, blackening my hair and saturating my skin. I did a quietly self-indulgent thing behind the curtains and when I came, I panted and called George's name out loud, wishing he could have been the one to bring me.
---***---
Dressing quickly, I slipped into my plain yellow shift dress. While I was doing this, George had wandered into my second room, which was formerly the guest bedroom. Technically, it wasn't my room; I just happened to use it the most. Inside were all of my artworks and extra supplies. Instead of plush white carpet, there was an artist's tarp covering the floor. Dried and crusted paint splattered and splotched nearly every bit of it. Occupying one corner, was a long table with paints of all type from each end of the spectrum. My easel stood lonely without anything on it next to a stool and another smaller table. A dozen or so blank and some used canvases leaned against one another with drawings taped to the wall above them. It took me a while to find him, but when I did, I was careful not to let my presence be known. Standing in the doorway, he didn't realize me until he turned around.
"Bonjour, mon chéri," he greeted, coming over to twine his fingers with mine.
"French, that's interesting."
"Sorry, can't say anything else. Didn't bother to learn more, Mademoiselle Riley."
"Like it?" I asked, motioning to one of my unfinished paintings that he had been admiring.
"It's beautiful, just like you." I could always depend on George to make every sweet and simple comment possible.
"Do you want to help me finish it?"
"Not unless you want your art destroyed."
"I promise you won't ruin it."
Taking the canvas, I set up what we were going to work on while George examined each individual magnum opus. Every time that he'd come across something he liked, he'd ask what I called it. I didn't exactly title any of my pieces, so eventually George gave up inquiring entirely. Normally, I would continue to use fine-tipped brushes and watercolors similar to what I had started with. In their place, though, this time, I opened jars of fingerpaint.
"Don't tell me that's what we're using," he stated dubiously.
"Oh, yes it is," I replied, delighting in the look on his face.
Sighing, he rolled up his sleeves to join me.
---***---
Well, it was definitely original
"How could you ruin something so nice?!"
Red, green and purple streaks masked the former depiction of a forest and mountain horizon.
"It still is nice! Just in a different way." (Have you figured out who is on which side of the argument?)
George didn't know what contributions he had made until now because I made him close his eyes while I guided his fingers across it. Even lacking sight, from what he could construe through his sense of touch, something wasn't right.
"That was a waste of canvas," he argued, coming close to running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"Careful!" I giggled in warning. "And it's not a waste, George. My aunt works in an artist's shop, so she sends me materials for my birthday and such. I have more stuff than I know what to do with."
"But you just lost a wonderful painting, luv."
"I told you; I wouldn't have done this if it meant something to me. Suppose that we'd better try an' get that off your hands."
When we attempted to wash it, though, there was still a slight twinge of purple, especially under his nails.
"I'm gonna look right silly playing tonight. Me right's bandaged and me left is purple. Nothing but disaster when we're together, pet," he teased, leaning forward to kiss me. Despite the circumstances, the entire fiasco was downright hilarious. Not only the paint but the entire situation in general.
---***---
Now there was nothing more to do but lounge around and await the arrival of my family. The rain had eventually ceased by evening the day before, and George took the opportunity to return home. This morning, to kill time, I finished a book containing several Stephen Crane short stories including The Red Badge of Courage and The Open Boat. Mum and Dad didn't suspect anything, even after they had spoken to me about my time alone. Everything that I told them was impromptu, so I spun a tale of Jenny visiting me. I prayed that it was going to fly and reminded myself to inform the involved parties, namely, Jennifer. Once they felt that they'd questioned me to the furthest extent, I was shooed away and off to find Alex.
"Evening, Natalie," he greeted cooly as I sauntered into the room. His bag was wide open on the bed and it appeared as though he was unpacking. Shirts, trousers and socks were strewn about the floor and furniture, but that could have also been the usual layer of filth.
"Alexander," I replied, nodding, eager to cut to the chase.
"I want my earrings back, dork."
"You can't have them," he taunted, pausing in the middle of replacing a pair of pants in their appropriate drawer.
"And why not?" I challenged, voice and blood pressure rising.
"Temper, temper. You'll get them back all in good time," he said not losing a bit of his placidity. His sang-froid was only making me more impatient.
"What if I offered to smash your head in with a club? That'd change your mind, you little bastard."
"Watch your mouth," he snapped automatically. "But then you'd never have them because you don't know where they are. Since you asked so nicely, I'll give them to you tomorrow morning."
"Why not now?"
"They're not here exactly."
"Where the hell are they then?!"
"Your friend Julia has them. I asked her to hold them for me."
What made him decide to do something like that, I don't know. Ingenious plan, though it was, it didn't entirely click with me what his motive was. In truth, Alex was mad on Julia, but I didn't know that at the time. Because of this, I believed that he had only done it to keep them out of my hands.
"Forget it, I'll just ring her later," I said, dismissing everything with a nod of my head.
"Goodnight, Ella."
"Later, pain."
---***---
"Julia Marie Keller! How are you, darling?"
"Fine, Ella, my dear."
We embraced in a sisterly hug, but tiny Julia was probably squished to death. Unpretentious and thin as ever, she wasn't a far cry from the way she was ten years ago. After an full week of waiting, I was here to get back my jewelry and catch up with my long time friend.
Almost immediately, she brought me what I had originally come seeking. At first, I saw this as a gesture to get rid of me, but soon she sat me down in the parlor and insisted that I have tea with her. Funny time for it, being only mid-morning. My only intentions were to retrieve the earrings, but on the contrary, I ended up staying for dinner. Julia only lived with her father, for her parents were separated. During our postprandial conversation, the phone clamored to be answered. Mr. Keller picked up and handed it to, not his daughter, but to me.
"Ella?"
"Ally?" I guessed from the voice. "How did you know I was here?"
"It doesn't matter."
---***---
Never being one to contain my anxiety, my nails were chewed down to the skin and my necklace had been fiddled with so much that there was a ring of stinging, irritated skin where it touched. Alex still hadn't come out of the OR, and I was afraid that he may never walk out at all. The doctors warned us that it had been a tragically serious accident, and that if the surgery failed to correct the alignment in his spine, he would remain paralyzed. For me, it was incomprehensible to see losing mobility after taking it for granted so long. Like being robbed of sight after living so long taking in the rainbows and wildflowers every day. My body was too weakened to pace the length of the floor and fingers trembling too severely to make use of my hands. Words like intervertebral, annulus, thoratic, sacrum, lamina, and lumbar were flying, and it wasn't helping to clarify the situation. Mum was gushing with tears on the opposite side of the ether-scented, white room and Dad was trying his best to console her, his own eyes glistening under the sterile, blinding, hospital lights. Shock was still prevalent with me so crying hadn't yet come. Ally was sadly a witness to the actual catastrophe itself. Apparently, Alex had fallen from the top gnarled branches of a centuries-old oak tree. She heard the nauseating crack of his spine and ran to my father knowing that if she disturbed Alex, it may have caused even further damage. Now, here I was, stuck in the waiting room of the hospital, which ironically, I would later work in, offering life and limb to God for my sibling's full recovery. Please, Lord, take the pain from him. Put it in me. Anything to save my baby brother. Everyone was well aware that as a result of this being a revolutionary procedure in its infantile stages, it also had an increased risk for mishaps, which may cost Alex his life. What drove us to allow it was that it was better to go after that glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel rather than abandon everything for the sake of keeping things simple. Ally, without saying a word, joined me after informing her mother. With the softness of a delicate feather, she clasped my hand, and together we silently shared the same fear. Three painfully uneventful hours later, a nurse came to update us on his condition. Alexander was now in a comatose state. That's when I exploded with laughter. Everyone else reprimanded me for showing "the wrong emotion," but they just didn't understand. Or maybe it was me that was confused. Wanting to escape this hellish nightmare, I stormed out and bade Ally not to follow me. Farewell, brother. For I have known you so long. Gone. Gone as the snowfall of last Christmas Eve. Gone as the wind, which tickled the trees. Gone as the body, which you once possessed. Not gone is the spirit that my heart will caress. Forever. Farewell, brother. My newest poem came to me without any thought, but the inspiration wasn't at all what it should have been. I prayed that the verses wouldn't become the horrible reality.
---***---
109-107-103. Where on earth did it all go? God, tell me where! The only thing that brought me solace and content was watching the scale register lower and lower. If Alex couldn't heal himself, then I felt it my duty to make him. All I wanted to become was pure, thin and empty. If I died, I would die faultless. Perfect as an angel to help my brother. Mum and Dad didn't interfere with my personal refinement. They didn't even know with all the things they had to be concerned over. Because of that, it was my wonderfully secret passage into heaven. Or was it hell?
At night, sleep wouldn't come. I didn't try to force it either. In addition, the extra energy that it expended worked to hasten my weight loss. Curled in the fetal position, stomach burning and aching for the sin of food, I was struck by a premonition in the dead of night. Maybe it was more of a realization...
You would think that it would become increasingly difficult to ignore the pangs of hunger, but for me that feeling was diminishing. Every breath had to be concentrated on, for a week without nourishment or rest begins to cause a regression in normal brain functions. Some of my senses were incredibly heightened and keen, especially hearing. Even while locked in my room and wrapped in innumerable blankets to ease the shivering, I could follow a conversation taking place downstairs. Two female voices, one abated from incessant bawling and the other determined and sharp.
"Go away, you wretched girl. Ella is too upset to speak to you now. Can't you see?"
By the finish of her monologue, the first woman had been reduced to racking sobs.
"Look, Mrs. Riley, I need to see Ella. She has got everyone worried sick and I think she may be dreadfully ill. Please, for her sake."
"Anya..." I croaked, forcing my body upward into a sitting position. Trying desperately to stand up, I collapsed to the ground pitifully. From there I crawled to the door, dizzier than ever. A quivering hand rose to turn the brass knob, and when it did, I called out to my visitor, but with that last gasp of air, what was left of my consciousness obliviated into a lightless void of space.
---***---
"God, please no, not my daughter too. Not Ella."
Where was I? All I could feel was the pain and weakness throbbing throughout me. My eyes were too heavily lidded to open and my ears wouldn't lend themselves to understanding the commotion about me. The echoes of a headache were progressing and worsening from a dull pounding to sharp stabs. It occurred to me that my lungs and heart were having difficulty returning to their normal functioning ability. The hospital, yes, that was it. I hadn't died yet. Miraculously, I was still of the planet Earth. Through hazy but existent thought processes I heard at least six other people.
"Please, I'm going to have to ask some of you to leave. It may be quite a shock for her to find all these people here when she does wake. Molly, go fetch Dr. Stevenson."
"Ally, that must mean she's coming to!"
Ally? That meant that my friends were here. I wondered who else had shown.
"Anya, dearest, I'd like to thank you for helping me. Without you, she wouldn't have a chance. I'd like to apologize for what I said to you. I certainly didn't mean it, luv."
"Quite all right, Mrs. Riley. It only matters that Ella is all right and we're here for her."
"If everyone doesn't hurry up, I'll have to make all of you leave!" shouted the escalatingly impatient nurse.
"I'll go," sighed a new but familiar voice.
"No, George, she needs you here. Come 'ead, Lauren, Anya, we'll leave. Tell us how she comes along."
After hearing the steps plod outside, I finally became aware that George was here. (Talk about delayed response...) It only fueled the urge to awaken, but as my will strengthened, my malnourished muscular system didn't. I emitted a soft moan of despair. My body had so little energy that I couldn't do so much as lift a finger. The one who must have been Dr. Stevenson entered the room because another distinct male voice presented itself.
"Well, it looks like she's ready to get up."
Nearly instantly after that statement, both of my hands were squeezed roughly, which most definitely woke me. With a little yelp, I opened my blurry and unfocused eyes and tilted my neck forward a tad.
"Ella! Oh, Lord, thank you!" Mum exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. Sorry to say, but her display of relief wasn't making me any more comfortable, but it was reassuring to know that she cared so much. Her tears slid down my neck, making trails of warmth and love. Peeking over one of Mum's shoulders, I directed a glimpse toward George. It looked like he wasn't much better off than I health-wise, like he hadn't slept in days. Catching my gaze from his position against the back wall, he smiled weakly at me. Now I was just humiliated. I most likely looked a sight with my matted hair still tied up in a ribbon but not quite as neatly as before, hospital gown and unkempt hygiene. Looking down at my right arm, which was facing upward outside of the bedsheets, I saw that it had an IV tube pushed beneath the skin with a hypodermic. Just the appearance of it made my flesh crawl and increased my inclination toward vomiting. I was queasy enough with being dizzy, and I didn't need another push in that direction. Each of my limbs spasmed slightly and out of my control. I was such a pathetic and sorry sight that it made me want to cry, but I had to keep my morale up. Finally, after I finished feeling sympathetic for myself, I remembered to think of someone less fortunate in the world. Actually, they were in this very building.
"How's Alex?" I asked aphonously. At hearing the croak of my vocal chords, I cleared my throat with a cough.
"Alex is conscious, but it'll take a few months for his convalescence. He'll live, but we were afraid that you wouldn't. You scared everyone witless, Natalie," Dr. Stevenson replied, taking my pulse in my unaffected wrist.
"How long have I been...?" I inquired, unable to find the words to finish the question.
"Four days," George chimed in with a tired and miserable tone. His contribution to the goings-on seemed to make Mum aware of his attendance. She quickly snapped her head in George's direction and defiantly fixed her gaze on him. If it didn't require so much power, I would have laughed because he was handling this so well by not taking to heart her protests.
"Well, everything seems to be in order, but I'm still not sure how long it will take to get your weight and blood sugar back up," Stevenson said, jotting things down on a legal pad. "Would you mind seeing your other visitors, Miss Riley?"
"No, not at all," I responded quickly.
Even after I'd thought that I'd hit rock bottom emotionally, the sight of my devoted, weary-eyed friends digressed my mood further but at the same time did exactly the opposite. Ally, Anya and Lauren, all of whom normally stood with immaculate posture and possessed complete equanimity, were slouched over, unwashed, sgraggled hair falling gracelessly in their eyes.
"Ella, you're alive!" Anya exclaimed immediately upon entering the room. Mum and Dr. Stevenson left the ward to tend to Alex, and George yawned away the exhaustion, continuing to keep his distance from the swarm of over joyous girls. Despite my excitement and gratitude towards their reception, I was curious as to why George hadn't given a peep this entire time. Pulling Anya down to my level by her shoulder, I asked, "Is he upset with me or is he just not going to speak at all?"
"He who? Oh! George, you mean. Aw, luv, he's probably just tired. He's been with you day in and day out since your mum and I brought you here. I think it was rather sweet of him to drop all those gigs in the past few days."
"What?!" I hissed. "I had no idea! Oh, Anya, I feel like a rat making him go through so much trouble."
"Ella, what in heaven's name did you think you were going to accomplish by starving yourself?" Lauren inquired, not knowing that she was changing the subject entirely. She joined Ally at the foot of my bed.
Taking a quick peek back at George, I saw that he was listening with rapt attention now that I was addressing the root of my problem.
"God, I don't know." I paused to rub my eyes. "I know it was a mistake. I've never felt so awful in my life," I answered, chucking a bit even though what I'd said had limited humor.
The nurse who must have been Molly came back into the room and quietly stood while we finished our conversation. She was polite and less authoritarian than the first woman. In her hands, was a file folder open to a rather official looking form.
"Sorry to interrupt, girls, but I need to speak with Miss Riley and Mr. Harrison alone."
Both of us had presumably the same thought bubble. What does she want with us? As a group, the other three occupants of the room departed, two of them bent for home.
"A'right, you two," she addressed, seating herself on a stool near the sink. "I need completely honest answers for all of these questions because Ella's life may depend on them."
That was a great way to scare us half to death. What kind of questions were these that we would be tempted to lie? Suddenly, I was glad that I had the warmth of the bed because I contracted an unexpected case of the chills.
"Are the two of you active?"
"Meaning?" I asked. It was obvious that George knew what it meant, though.
"Have you ever engaged in any sort of sexual activity together?"
"No!" I answered, stunned and slightly embarrassed.
George gave a little snort of amusement and then went into a laughing fit. Nurse Molly looked at him perplexedly as did I.
"Sorry. Are all of these going to be the same? Because if they are, I've never laid a finger on her like that so I can assure you she is still a virgin, or whatever she is. I'm also pretty sure that she's been faithful to me, so most likely not pregnant."
"Is that right, Natalie?" she asked, turning to me.
"I guess so," I replied, shrugging it away.
"Okay, well, that's it for that. Now, if what you've told me is correct, we're going to be able to put you on a medication to keep your immune system and body functions in proper working order. The reason I needed to know all that was because we couldn't give it to you if you were pregnant or planning on becoming. Sorry for humiliating you if I did. I'm off."
And with that, she departed once more and the room fell silent as if our capability of conversing left with her.
