When I awoke, I could only recall a moment of panic before I had been sedated. Deb was sitting in a chair, flipping through the pages of Cosmopolitan.
The sheets slid against the mattress when I sat up, and Deb dropped her magazine, hurrying to help.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said. “Want me to open the blinds?”
I nodded.
She walked over to the window and twisted a long, horizontal rod, letting in the bright sun and revealing a large billboard for J.C. Penney.
I squinted until my eyes adjusted, and reached for my necklace. “I left it.”
“What?” Deb said, sitting next to me on the bed.
“My penny necklace Josh gave me. We fought. I left it behind when I stormed out on him.”
Deb seemed uncomfortable and searched for something else to say. “Dr. Weaver was in this morning. All of your tests came back great. They’re going to move you to the second floor today.”
“To rehab?” I asked.
Deb pulled her mouth to the side. “You need to build back muscle in your legs, Avery. It won’t take long. Water?” she asked, pouring some into a large mug before I answered.
I looked out the window, feeling emotion weigh down on me. I had been so quick to walk out on my life with Josh the day before. Now I would do anything to find my way back.
I touched my stomach, feeling more alone than I ever had. I had lost my parents. I had lost friends. This was much, much worse. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my cheeks.
“Dr. Weaver has scheduled Dr. Livingston and Dr. Brock for this afternoon.”
“Who are they?” I sniffed.
“Dr. Livingston is the neurologist.” She hesitated. “Dr. Brock is a psychiatrist.” When I began to protest, Deb held my hand in both of hers. “No one is judging you, Avery. Your little body has been through so much. It’s really a miracle that you survived at all. Your brain had to do what it had to do to distract you while you healed. There is so much about the brain that we don’t know. It’s important that you tell them everything.”
“I just want my husband.” I pulled my hands from hers, covering my face. My chest and face hurt from the hours of tearfully mourning my daughter.
Deb only nodded, sympathy in her eyes.
“Deb,” I said, warning her with my tone. “Will you take me to see Josh?”
“I can,” she said, sad. “But it will upset you.”
“Take me,” I said. Josh would be the only thing to calm me down.
Deb brushed my greasy hair and braided it, and then she held a cup of water while I brushed my teeth.
“Here,” she said, handing me a warm washcloth. “Wash your face while I get a chair.”
I rubbed the warm terrycloth over my face, feeling it evaporate and cool while I worked it over my skin. I wasn’t going to look in the mirror. I didn’t want to.
Deb wheeled in my ride, pressing the brakes down and lifting up the foot pedals. She used her upper body strength to lift me up and pivot, and with incredible control, she lowered me back into the seat.
“All set?” She unplugged my IV and held it in one hand, gripping the handle of my chair in the other.
I nodded, feeling her push forward. When we cleared the threshold of my room and broke into the hallway, something inside me clicked into place. The feeling that something was out of place or missing was gone.
Deb passed four rooms and then paused. “Are you sure, Avery? I really think you should give yourself more time. You’re confused, and …”
“I’m sure,” I said, reaching for the doorjamb.