Evergladdies (part 3)
While I was sitting there with Annie, I was thinking about everything. Not everything, everything from the crash, the sirens , and waking up sitting in a slightly cushioned chair looking around at a worried silence that always is carried around hospitals by people. My sister, Caroline, (I haven't really spoke to her in a year or two) the last time I saw her was in a hospital. We were having a family vacation in Italy, my parents realized they should spend their money, and we were out in the country side in some place I can not remember now. She and her husband, Kevin, decided to go out walking in some field. I had a bad relationship with Kevin, something that we never worked out and most of the time we were polite to each other, but Caroline did not like me for not getting along with her husband. Caroline ate some seed that she had an allergic reaction to, and while running around she slammed her foot down on a sharp rock.
I'll never forget the moment when I heard Kevin yell. "Someone, please!" And, everything seemed to slow down, and I can remember Kevin carrying her in his arms, as if she was dead (her breathing was off), and I was sitting reading some book, I dropped. My father ran inside the hotel, or what is was called in Italian, to get a doctor or someone to help, and my mother ran to hold Caroline. I sat there, turned my head, dropped my book, and sprang to my feet to see what was happening. Her throat was swollen and her right foot was bleeding too hard to find out where the cut really was. Everything slowed down, until it froze, and when time started up again, I was sitting outside a hospital room, in a brown wooden chair that was too slippery, and I kept sliding from sitting to lying on the bottom of my back. There was the worried silence, as not to worry my parents, or Kevin (who really is a good guy, despite his being a jerk), and I was concerned. I came to sitting there, in that seat, and I wanted to see how she was. My father came by to reassure me that she was fine. "They got her foot stitched up, and she is breathing fine, we are going to stay here until she gets better."
And by we, he meant everyone but me. I had to get back to Mark who was holding down the fort, and it was unfair to me to go on this vacation. "Go anyway, I will be fine, take a week off, be with the people who love you." I left her there, in the hospital bed, with Kevin trying to cheer her up, and my father worrying about the care she was getting, and my mother so worried and happy to see her daughter okay. I left a few minutes later, to catch the flight, with two empty seats next to me.
When I finally came to sitting in the cushioned chair at the hospital, the worried silence, and seeing Annie, but not saying anything. We forgot whatever happened between us before the crash when the doctor came by to speak to us. "He has a great deal of glass in his chest, but we have gotten all that out, and none of his organs are damaged. His shoulder, however, is broken. He is asleep now. If you want, you can come in and see him." Annie rose and walked after the doctor, and this time, I went to see the patient. I had to go and see Mark.
The room had the assortment of hospital machines that worry me. She sat down in a chair on the far side of the room, with the early morning light hitting her back from the window, and I stood against the door frame, looking at him. He was still, and breathing, and covered. And I just felt so stupid for the crash, like it was my fault, that if Annie and I weren't arguing he would have seen the ice patch, and the car wouldn't have slid. Or if he didn't have to give me a ride home. He was driving in my direction, to drop me off. (Later, when I saw a photo of the car, the interior, it was like some little girl sprinkled shiny clear glitter all over the seats, and crumpled up a side of the car, but got bored and couldn't do the other side.)
"Mark, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for causing this. For you not seeing the patch, and the car crash, and having to drive me home." And I knew what Annie wanted to say to me ("He's asleep, he can't hear you, jerk."), but she looked at me, and hated me for it, and went back to Mark. A side of her mind was on hating me, and on loving Mark. I stood there, I didn't want to be the first to leave. All Sunday, I stood there at the door frame, with nurses coming in to clean his arms and legs, and for the doctors to come in, write something down on the chart, and leave. Mark woke up for a few minutes, or enough to see Annie, and smile at her, and groan at his pain, but I was getting coffee, so I missed it.
Sunday night came and I left. There was nothing more for me to do there, I was standing waiting to say sorry, and he never woke up to hear it. I had work the next morning (so did Mark, although I don't think anyone was expecting him to show). I took a taxi home. Richie wasn't home when I came in around 9. 9 PM and I was exhausted, I hadn't slept a bit in the past day, and I was covered in bandaged on my right side, mostly my arm, from the crash the glass flying inside the car. I listened to my messages.
First from Hank, "Hey there fella, just so you know, I don't expect for you to come in tomorrow, I heard what happened. Well, it was all over the news, I hope Mark is okay." And then the next message for Richie, from Kate (the girl he had dinner with two nights ago) saying that "8:30 would be fine, I'll see you then." Finally, the last message, as I was taking off my coat and shoes, was from Jane. "Hi, I just hope you are doing fine. Hank and I were so surprised when we heard about the crash. I dropped my plate," and she gave that great small laugh that she used when she knew that it could make me laugh, "so, I hope to see you soon, feel better."
Now, getting a message from her, it made me feel better, but another thing, when she mention that jerk-off Hank. Let me say one thing, right now, when the woman you have an obsession with (healthy or not) talks about her current boyfriend, it just makes you want to exhale because someone just hit you with a bag reminding you that you have no chance with her. By the time I got to my bed, all I wanted to rest, and I did sleep (I didn't go into work the next day). I slept, and when I woke up for a few times during the day, I woke up, and about three or four seconds later, I would be reminded of what happened. I would just want to go back to the hospital and tell Mark I was sorry for everything. But, I had already left.