Amanda

[1] Reptiles Don't Need Cream

[1]

"HOW IS YOUR shoulder?" Doctor Lucien said.

I lifted my shoulders to show him how well I was performing. Like he was going to give me a gold star for that.

"Amanda's shoulders are as dry as a reptile's scales," my mother concluded helpfully. "Couldn't the nurse get her a cream or som-"

"Mom," I said. This was so weird. I could never get used to being over-indulged by my mother. But... were my shoulders really snake-like?

I slid my fingers beneath the off-white hospital one-hundred-per-cent-cotton t-shirt. It felt like I was running my fingers along the bark of my grandma's banyan tree.

"Ease them out of the shirt, for a little while," Doc said.

I leaned forward from my sitting position so that mom could loosen the gown from behind. Hospital beds were not as comfy as you thought. Or maybe my bones had got weak. Not maybe, surely. I had fractured shins.

I felt my shoulders hit the air. The shirt teetered halfway from my shoulder to elbow. With the blanket that was sprawled on me, I covered my scar-ridden biceps.

Doc stopped scribbling. His eyes flitted to me. I made a stubborn attempt at eye contact. He didn't care. He turned to mom. "Should we talk outside?"

"I, too, would like to know what my diagnosis is, please," I said.

"Amanda," mom said. Stern. She didn't need to finish. I felt hurt and stifled. I watched as mom and Doc went out of the room, shutting the door and talking like adults.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. This... was all different. I agree that I was a typical angsty seventeen-year-old but sue me for my low self-esteem. I didn't like the fact that I wasn't strong. I couldn't defend myself verbally most of the times. I was pretty sure my reports were great and even if I had cancer, I deserved to know. Though, I couldn't be diagnosed for cancer because the reason I got hospitalized in the first place was a freaking bicycle accident. But you never know.

From the glass of the door, I saw my mom nodding - what? - gloomily to what Doc was saying. Shit, did I have a disease? This was starting to get real-er and weirder.

I dug my nails into my neck. It was an anxious tic which I was allowed to do only when mom wasn't around. I felt a single thread of hair underneath my chin and started pulling at it. It didn't come out. I pulled more frivolously. I was scared it would form a wound and give rise to more acne but I desperately wanted it out. It was irritating. I plucked and plucked at it.

The door suddenly opened. I kept my hand down and covered my shoulders. A boy was brought in on a wheelchair by a nurse. The nurse - who looked like he was my age - lifted the small guy and helped him up onto the bed beside mine. The boy was bald. Did he... have cancer?

"Daddy?" asked the boy.

"Your daddy's coming in a sec, don't worry! How do you like your new room, Dante?"

"I thought it was going to be just mine, Matty," Dante - the boy - complained, glaring fixatedly at me. The nurse also looked at me curiously.

I probably looked like a girl straight out of a coffin, as my right palm cupped the left shoulder and my left palm the right and my hair were disheveled. Thankfully, a blanket covered most of my body.

"Don't bother, Dante, I think you'd make good friends with her," the nurse said, smiling.

Me? Absolutely. I loved kids.

"What's your name, Missy?" Dante called out.

"Uh, Amanda?"

"Three sylla... bells. Nope, nope. Amy's better," said Dante.

I said, "What's your favorite food?"

There was a long silence followed by Dante murmuring, "Mmhmu-hmmeh."

The nurse walked to a cupboard beside my bed and returned to Dante's bed with a neatly-folded blanket. "He experiences fatigue frequently," he explained as he spread the blanket over the boy, who was sound asleep. With a little pain, I moved my head. The boy's head rested comfortable over a pillow, his fingers pressing against his flush cheeks.

"Also, um, you have blood on your neck, Amanda," said Matty, the nurse.

"Oh? I - I don't know how it got there." I placed my left palm under my chin, and felt for the thread of hair. I plucked on it and then immediately felt a sharp sting of pain. My finger was slightly pink.

"Let me get you band-aid."

He took a small transparent box from the cupboard and set it on the small table between Dante's bed and mine. Then pressed one end of the Dettol antiseptic bottle against a cotton bud. He knelt over me and gently dabbed my neck. I couldn't help but hiss at the irritation. He tried not to lean overly much. He had a badge pinned against his light blue button-less shirt that read, Matteo Katz, Nursing Assistant. How do you get a nursing degree at eighteen years of age?

"Done," he smiled and packed up the box. Call it charisma or charm.

"Thanks," I said.

Doctor Lucien peeked through the door. "Katz, administer Amanda's file." Doc passed my reports to Matty or Matteo Katz and disappeared, just as my mom entered the room.

"Amanda," she sat down at the foot of my bed. She ran her fingers along the ugly peach plaster and continued, "Doctor said it will take a month for your bones to heal." The corner of her lips were turned down.

Okay. It was August end. There was not much I'd miss in September – a few good classes, I guess. I was always looking forward to studying and researching. But I can do that while I'm bedridden... Can't I?

I told myself: Don't worry too much; it will be fine. 

Rather, it sounded like: Fake it till you make it.

"What's the other bad news?" I probed.

My mother closed her eyes. "It's..."

"It's what?"

She opened her eyes again and then knelt forward to push my hair out of my eyes.

"What?"

"I can't," she got up and paced around the room. It was blood-curdling. What kind of disease did I have? Until mom added, "... remember the term. What was it, Mr. Katz?"

"Traumatic brain injury," Matty said, who had been flipping through the pages of my reports. "Do you have a headache?"

I tried to turn on an imaginary detector in my head. "Nope, no aches."

"That's better. TBIs can be painful and excruciating."

My knowledge about TBIs only extended to 13 Reasons Why's Alex Standall and the kiss he shared with Charlie after he helped him through the attack.

"I'm... okay for now."

"I'll get your meds from below, now, Amanda," said my mother. Then she seemed to remember something very important. "Mr. Katz, could you manage something for Amanda's should-"

"Mom."

"-ers? There's something wrong with them."

"Are they dry... or are they frozen?" Matty said.

"What's the difference?" I said.

"Don't know," my mom told Matty. He quickly scanned my shoulders. Now I felt uncomfortable.

"I'll be back in an hour, sweetie." She closed the door behind her.

***

1135 words, I loved writing this chapter <3 :)

It's 4.30 am, 1 November 2023.

Good morning, November!