“It wasn’t what you thought, Leif. Get some rest. Like the doctor said. I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you,” she says, running her hand over my forehead and into my hair. “We’ll all be here when you wake up.”
Daughter. Daughter. Daughter. “Daughter,” I manage to get out. “Mine?”
Malena cries, her hand covering the lower half of her face. I wish she would move her hand. I want to see her. I haven’t seen her in so long. I never thought I’d see her again. Against the darkness, her face is like a beacon of light calling me back home.
She nods. “Yes. Your daughter. She’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll explain everything. I’m so sorry,” she says, swallowing hard. “I love you. Sleep.”
I am tired. Which doesn’t make sense, but when I close my eyes briefly, it feels like sleep instead of a dark hole, so I let it take me. There isn’t blackness this time. I dream of a daughter. A beautiful girl who looks just like the woman I love.
The bed is up, and the curtains are drawn. My body isn’t mine anymore, my muscles so atrophied that I can barely sit up on my own. My mother has busied herself about my room. Bringing in flowers and magazines and anything she thinks I might like. My dad strolls around the hospital floor with a cup of coffee in one hand. He pokes his head into the room and looks shocked to see me every single time. Today was the day I was supposed to be pulled off life support, and instead, it’s the start of my recovery.
“Tell me if you want anything in particular, honey. Anything at all.”
“Malena,” I rasp, clutching my throat. “I want Malena,” I say again, just to prove to my fucking voice box I’m the boss. I have a permanent sore throat from the tubes that pumped life into my body all of these months. Sipping water feels like razor blades, and that’s what they keep pushing me to do. Drink water, piss a ton.
Mom looks down to the floor. “She will be here shortly, I’m sure.”
“Why did that sound like a question? Where is she?” It’s almost noon, and Malena hasn’t been in to see me yet.
“Leif,” Mom croons in that way only a mom can. “Last night was a lot. She’s probably sleeping still. If not, she’s dealing with the…” Mom pauses. “I’m sure she’s busy, honey. What can I get you in the meantime? The physical therapist will be here this afternoon. Celia had to call in a favor as you weren’t on the schedule.” No one has said the word “baby” or “daughter” again since last night. I’m beginning to think I dreamed it. It’s why I need Malena. Her words. To tell me if what she said last night is real.
“I need to fix myself,” I croak. “I need Malena, Mom.”
She nods. “I’ll call her now. Stay put,” Mom says, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not paralyzed,” I say. “I don’t think so, anyway. I can’t fucking move, so maybe I am. Don’t apologize. I won’t go anywhere,” I say, out of breath. It takes so much to get words out. My lungs don’t hold as much oxygen as they used to. “Tell her Ineedher,” I add. I’m breaking a little more every second her face isn’t in my line of vision.
Eva and Celia visited me this morning. They left when the doctors came in to run a myriad of tests on my body and blood. I seem to be doing okay internally, and the fuzzy mental pieces get a little clearer as time passes. They say that’s a good sign—that my recovery is miraculous and so sudden that it’s hard to medically explain. My sister’s fucking ranting could bring anyone back from the grave. Dad is on one of his walks again, and I am left alone.
There’s a walker next to my bed that a nurse brought in for this afternoon’s physical therapy session. I eye it like a mortal enemy, one that killed me, but not all the way. Aidan is on his way here, and a few of my teammates are with him. They’re the ones that will fill in the blank spaces with regard to the attack. I have to piss, so I take the urge to try out my legs instead of using the bedpan. I have to use my arms to scoot my legs to the edge of the bed.
No one could tell me what it would be like to stand up—how my body would react. The act of swinging my legs over the side leaves me breathless. “Fuck, I’m so out of shape,” I mutter, then, putting both hands on the handles of the walker, I lean my upper body onto the steel frame. A spell of dizziness hits. A string of curse words flies through my brain, my throat too sore to speak them.
“Are you supposed to be up?” Malena says.
Finally.Finally.
I turn my head, and there she is. A vision in a long yellow dress, her skin in stark contrast to the light color. I swallow hardand try to shift to get a better view. The afternoon sun lights her face. “You’re here.”
“I, ah, wasn’t sure what to say, so I avoided you today,” she says. “I was on my way when your mom just called.”
“Honesty. I like it,” I reply, croaking a little less with every word I say. “How about some more of that?”
She looks down at the floor. When I shuffle, she doesn’t hesitate to rush over to help me. “I’ll give you honesty if you sit back down.”
“If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone who will,” I counter, trying on a smile for the first time today.
She’s affected by it. Immediately. Her whole demeanor switching into something more familiar. “I’ll dance with you. Later.”
“I have to take a piss, so I can’t sit quite yet. I’d like to do it like a man,” I explain, nodding to the bathroom attached to my room.
Malena nods. “I’ll call a nurse. Can you wait?”
My eyes light up. “I can’t. Will you help me?”
Her breath catches. “Of course. Is this the first time you’ve stood up? Walked? If you fall, I’m not sure I can catch you before you hurt yourself. Are you sure you don’t want to use the bedpan?”
I begin shuffling toward the restroom. “I got it, Malena. Even if I fell, I imagine you’d catch me. I’m what? A mere two hundred pounds?” The walker takes most of my weight. My legs are painful as blood rushes in a direction other than horizontal.
