• Song - She's the Prettiest Girl at the Party, and She Can Prove It with a Solid Right Hook - Frank Iero •
My eyes fluttered open and were met with glaring white light. I squinted and struggled to sit up as I tried to survey my surroundings.
"Lay down," my mother commanded. She pressed her hands to my shoulders and pushed me back against the firm, uncomfortable mattress. "I'll get the doctor."
"Phoenix? Where is she? Is she okay? How long have I been out? What happened?"
"It's only been two days. I'll tell you everything," she promised with a kiss to my forehead. "But not right now."
She left and returned shortly after, accompanied by a tall woman in a white coat.
"You're awake," she said cheerfully. "How do you feel?"
I stretched my stiff fingers as I considered.
"Okay, I guess. Kind of...hazy."
"Probably the meds," the doctor whispered to my mother.
"I can hear you," I pointed out.
She didn't respond as she studied the instruments and panels near my bed.
"Your vitals are excellent," she said. "How would you rate your pain, on a scale from zero to ten?"
"Two or three," I grunted.
"What kind of pain are you experiencing? Shooting, stabbing, burning?"
"Achey."
"I could increase your dosage if it's too bad," she offered.
"No, thank you. That won't be necessary. When can I get out of here?"
My mother scoffed. "You need to focus on healing, Ben."
"I can't." I shook my head. "Not until I see her."
"You'll be spending another three or four days with us," the doctor piped up. "But you can roam the floor if you take an aide with you. And you'll need to use a wheelchair."
"Is she on this floor? She's still in the hospital?"
"She's not on this floor," Mom replied, exasperated.
"I've gotta get to her," I muttered as I threw the thin blanket off my legs. "I promised. I'll sign whatever you need me to."
"Ben," Mom sighed, "I'll take you to her in a couple of days, if you stay in bed."
I knew the expression on her face well. It told me she was not willing to negotiate further. If I didn't accept her offer, she'd take it off the table completely. My mother was a kind and compassionate woman, but she had very limited tolerance for things she deemed nonsensical.
"Very well." I grumbled as I settled back into the bed. "But could someone bring a wheelchair? I'd like to be able to get myself to the toilet."
"You have a catheter and a bedpan."
Mom's eyes were narrowed; she knew me just as well as I knew her. She was suspicious.
"I'd like to hold onto at least a little bit of dignity, Mother."
She reluctantly agreed. The catheter and bedpan were removed, and a wheelchair was parked near my bed. If I wanted to get into it, I was supposed to press the call button and ask for assistance.
Mom wouldn't answer any more questions about Phoenix. She would only tell me to focus on getting better. She stayed with me for a few more hours before announcing that, regretfully, she had some work to do. I assured her that I understood completely; she was the General, after all. There were treaties to be drafted, societies to be rebuilt.
She promised to return at bedtime. I urged her to go home and get some proper rest.
"It's not like I can go very far anyway," I huffed with a pointed glance at my cast. "I'll still be here in the morning."
As she kissed my cheek and departed, I struggled to suppress a mischievous smile.
The waiting was the worst part. I picked at my nails anxiously and watched the clock, half afraid I'd blink and my window of opportunity would have passed me by.
I was a grown man, but there was still something thrilling about concocting a plot to disobey my mother.
At around sunset, I closed my eyes. Each time the nurse conducted her rounds, I groaned dramatically while writhing in my bed.
"Mr. Solo?" she called into the room finally. "Having trouble sleeping?"
"The lights," I murmured, gesturing behind her into the hallway. "They're shining right in my eyes."
"I'll close the door for you," she said helpfully. "If you need anything, just press the call button."
The moment the door closed, I set to work.
She made her rounds at exactly the same time each hour. I needed to be back in bed before she returned.
I carefully lowered the side rail, holding my breath and silently begging it to make no noise. I exhaled in relief when it was down. Then I tugged the wheelchair closer and dangled my legs over the side of the bed. I knew I needed to let the blood return to them slowly, or I'd definitely fall.
When the pins-and-needles feeling faded, I cautiously stood on my good leg. The process was clumsy and slow, but I managed to turn myself around and sink into the chair without disturbing the broken bones. With my cast nestled into the leg rest, I took hold of the wheels and pushed them forward. The bandaged burn on my palm protested the action, but I urged it to settle down. I was going to see her, no matter what.
I opened the door noiselessly and peeked outside. My nurse was six doors down, checking in on another patient. The only other nurse working the night shift sat at the bank of computers in the center of the ward with his back turned to me.
I ducked my head and wheeled myself to the elevator as quickly as I could without alerting them. I pressed the button and chewed my lip impatiently while I waited for a car to arrive.
I winced at the ding when the doors opened. A glance over my shoulder told me they hadn't noticed. I exhaled and entered the elevator. Thankfully, there was enough space for me to turn the chair around and select my floor.
I paused as my finger hovered over the rows of buttons. My shoulders slumped as I realized I had no idea what floor Phoenix was on. I scanned the list of wards taped to the wall.
Maternity/Labor and Delivery - Fifth Floor
I smiled to myself.
Orthopedic/Cardiac- Fourth Floor
I deduced that this was my current location.
Respiratory/Diagnostic - Third Floor
Intensive Care Unit - Second Floor
Emergency Unit/Urinary - First Floor
Psychiatric - Basement
If she had been in the ICU, she should have been moved by now, I reasoned. Her injuries were critical, but stabilization should have been uncomplicated. I briefly considered the respiratory unit as a possibility; maybe she'd swallowed more sea water than I assumed, or maybe the thirty seconds she was deprived of oxygen had done some damage.
