Returning To Loving You

A Ticking Clock

It took another week or so before the hospital finally released us. Those long days were spent watching cable TV and losing track of time. I hadn't gotten much of that time with Cody, at least not awake. Between his injuries from the finale and lack of sleep from getting as far as he did on the show, Cody seemed to be asleep for about eighteen hours out of the day. It got old fast, eating hospital cafeteria food and flipping between the same four TV channels. The worst part of it was when reruns of Total Drama Island would come on, usually in the afternoons. There was always something in me that wouldn't let me change that channel, and I'd sullenly watch as if it was happening all over again. There were only two episodes I couldn't bring myself to watch; Cody's elimination, and my own. I didn't want to see it. It was real enough as it was the first time around, reliving it would be as good as torture.

But as that week passed, and Cody spent a lot less time asleep, everything seemed a bit more normal. "Normal" being relative, of course. He and I would find movies to watch together, we would reconvene with Trent, Owen, Tyler, and Justin, and we'd do our best to pretend to be regular teenagers again.

I was ready to go back to normal, or so I thought. As everyone discussed what they were going to do when they returned home, I felt a heaviness in my gut. No one else, not even Cody, seemed to be startled by that topic. They were all probably itching to go home and get on with their lives as much as I should've been. But hidden beneath my ego, my dramatics, my raw contempt for Total Drama, was a part of me that was afraid to let go. What was there for me at home? My academic career was pretty much out the window, after being absent from school nearly two years now. Life in La Tuque had moved on without me, and perhaps I was a bit afraid to go back. Leaving behind not just the people I couldn't stand (See Gwen, Courtney, Harold most days) but also those that had seemingly become part of my identity. The person I've always been had been fused with this new version of myself that I hadn't figured out yet.

That's not even touching on the fact that Cody and I were in some sort of vague, convoluted relationship. What would happen between us when we inevitably had to part ways, I could only guess. We hadn't really discussed it. We actually hadn't discussed much of anything other than light chatter throughout the days of being in the hospital. It has been harder than I anticipated getting back in tune with being in a relationship.

I wasn't the only one struggling with adapting to these new changes. Poor Owen hadn't quite been himself since the finale. Besides the physical injuries he'd sustained from the volcano eruption, he'd been trying to heal from the void that Izzy had left when she'd broken off the strange, inexplicable relationship between the two of them. No one had seen much of Izzy since we'd all arrived at the hospital. Some speculated that she'd gotten a heavier blow, injury-wise, and that she was still stuck in the hospital bed. Others thought she was avoiding confrontation from Owen, and was expertly dodging him. I just thought she was loony, and probably couldn't distinguish the sad hospital room from a prison cell. Regardless, I didn't find myself missing her too much. Owen, however, seemed empty and perhaps a little bitter at the lack of closure.

There'd been a night, during Cody's spell of extreme drowsiness, that I'd invited Owen over to watch a movie with me. Reaching out to him felt important, as he'd been nothing but completely loyal to me throughout the competition. Things were slightly off between us. He'd been there to stabilize me when I felt like I was disintegrating. When Cody hadn't been there for me, Owen was, unwavering and supportive. But when Cody and I had smoothing out the creases in our relationship, I couldn't help but wonder if Owen felt abandoned, maybe even rejected.

I felt like I owed him my time. I'd invited him to watch some shitty nineties movie with me, though neither of us were particularly interested in watching. Poor Cody was across the room, out cold in the hospital bed. Owen and I had squeezed together so we could both sit on my own bed comfortably. The affection we'd shared on the plane had gone unspoken this whole time, dissolving away when I'd reconciled with Cody. Yet, a part of me was itching to lean into him; let him stabilize me one more time. I didn't. I felt that I owed him an explanation, an apology, a thank you, something, but there were no words to say to him that could express anything that I was feeling.