MOMENTS
CASSIDY
Pretty sure thisis what it feels like to get run over by a Mack truck.
I’ve been inpatient for a couple days now, having been moved to a rather nice private room on an upper floor, and I’m hopeful they’ll let me go home on day three. I’m working on my lung capacity, doing my hall walks, and taking my medications as prescribed. All I need now is one good visit to the bathroom and I’ll be home free.
“What the hell is this stuff?” I ask as I eye the dark brown contents of the glass Carolina handed me.
“It’s prune juice.”
I make a face, and she pushes my hand holding the glass closer to my face. “Just drink it. I’m telling you; it’ll help.”
Bringing the glass to my lips hesitantly, I attempt to take a sip, but then she says, “Oh my God, Cassidy. You gotta throw it back like you would aJagerbombback in the day.”
“You can’t be serious.”
She sighs, grabs another glass from the table, pours some of that brown liquid into it and then holds it up. “Here, I’ll do it with you.”
“Umm…” I say slowly. “If it’s going to do what you said it’s going to do, then I don’t think that’s wise.”
She looks from me to the glass and back again. “You may be right.”
“And you have a flight to catch soon.”
She sets the glass down. Pushes it away. “I almost got carried away there for a moment. Good save.”
I giggle, but then immediately sober as she says, “You ready to do it?”
I huff out a breath. Lift the glass in front of me. A quick inhalation and I toss it back in one go, smacking the glass down on the table. Then I shrug and say, “It’s not great, but I’ve definitely had worse in my mouth.”
Carolina cackles. “Haven’t we all.”
Giggling, I nudge the glass. “So, is that it?”
She eyes me and then the glass as she asks, “How long has it been?”
I shrug and respond, “Definitely a few days. But they won’t let me go home until I do it.”
“Maybe drink a little more, just for good measure.”
She pours more into the glass, this time filling it a bit more. I don’t hesitate, tossing it back in good order and then sitting there grinning like I’ve done something amazing.
This is what hospital stays do to you.
“I wish I didn’t have a flight to catch,” Carolina says softly. “I hate leaving you here like this.”
“Ren will be back any minute,” I respond, waving her off. “I’ll be fine on my own, I promise.”
Leaning in, she gives me a hug. “You call me if you need anything. I’ll be right back up here on the next flight.”
“I will, I promise,” I respond, smiling up at her as she pulls back. She gives me a good look as she steps back, then grabs her things, and with a final little wave she disappears through the door, shutting it behind her.
My head falls back onto the pillow and I lie there, staring up at the ceiling. The room is as silent as a hospital ever gets, that slight din still heard off in the distance.
Without warning, my eyes start to burn. I blink rapidly, attempt to push it down, but it’s no use, my eyes overflow. “Goddamn it.”
That’s how most of my crying jags have gone. Random, no immediate provocation, no stopping it.
