Caleb’s brows furrowed. “You were in an accident. You’re in the hospital.”
“In the hospital? What do you mean?”
This makes no sense. I need to finish a campaign pitch . . . brunch with Mom . . . Orchid.
He twisted against the pillows, eyes shut again, exhausted by their exchange.
His brother kept talking. Phoenix couldn’t concentrate as memories started to unlock.
Orchid at the airport . . . back to my place before meeting Mom. The subway station. The homeless guy with the beard. Oh my God. Losing my balance, flying through the air. . . .His eyes squeezed tighter, shutting out the scenes that clamped around his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
Can’t be.
He struggled to move. Pain pierced through his leg, as if it was on fire.
Caleb put a supporting hand on his brother’s shoulder. Phoenix opened his eyes to find his brother still toting the cup. He reached for the water. Clumsy with grogginess, he knocked it over. The water spilled onto the bedspread. Phoenix instinctively threw out his left hand to steady the cup.
He whiffed air.
Confused, he regarded his arm. Bandages ended inches above where his wrist should’ve been. Bile spiked in his throat.
“What the—” he yelped, heart pounding from images of bloodied limbs, inanimate, lying apart from his body.
Caleb swallowed. “I’m sorry. They couldn’t save your hand or your leg.”
Phoenix barely registered the ache in Caleb’s voice.
“My handandmy leg?” He didn’t recognize his own guttural cry, as his future spun 180 degrees around him.
His mom swept into the room, setting a paper coffee cup beside his bed.
“Oh, Phoenix, it’s going to be okay,” she said, reaching over to press the controls to elevate the head of the bed, helping to calm his flailing as he tried to sit up.
Little by little, the room came in focus, LED bulbs glaring overhead, machines buzzing beside him. He searched wildly around the reflective surfaces of the room. He knew he needed help, but from whom and for what?
“Mom?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing here? How’d you get here so fast?”
“Oh, honey, I’ve been here three days.”
Three days?Looking down, he saw sheets dipping below his left knee. He tried to kick them back to no avail.
“No. God. No. This can’t be.”
His mom stroked his right arm. He could feel her fingertips. “Shh, I know, sweetie. It feels bad but it’s going to be all right.”
“Do you see what’s missing? There’s nothing left of me.”
“All the important parts are there,” Caleb intervened.
“The important parts?” Phoenix practically screamed. As he lifted his shoulders in a shrug of denial, the sight of his bandaged left arm provided a shocking reminder of his tragedy. Spent, disbelieving, he leaned back into the pile of pillows. “No, please no.”
His mother pushed the bed down to a supine position. “Just rest, Phoenix. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Okay?
His life’s dreams, gone, sublimated to nothing.How am I going to do anything?A nurse arrived with a sedative and he fell into a troubled sleep.
Analarm shrills. The green glow of the room’s EXIT sign indicateshead this way, if you can. Are one good hand and one leg enough to escape? Maybe. Crawl, drag, clutch any leg of furniture, any object along the path. Inch a broken body through empty hallways. Follow the fluorescent signs through a darkened labyrinth. Get to the fire door. Moving like an inchworm whose sightless head seeks the warmth of the sun. Work the handle with an uninjured right arm. Flames lick one foot, intact but mateless. Pushing with newfound alacrity, one shoulder abuts the door. One hand scrabbles to do the work of two.
