The Expansion of the Universe

Fifty-Seven | "That's my Liza!"

Liza wasn't sure for how long a period she'd been sort of "awake," but she was more than relieved when, one day, she found herself able to move her fingers, just a little. She could feel the roughness of the hospital blanket against her fingertips, too, and when she wiggled her toes (she could do that!), she could tell her feet were clad in those fuzzy hospital socks they distributed to all patients. There was something else against her calves—something rough and paper-like—that seemed to inflate and deflate against her skin; if she recalled correctly from her previous hospital experience, they were part of a pressure-applying device meant to prevent clots from forming because of her inactivity.

God, it was so nice to feel again.

Her eyelids still refused to budge, but, as she'd learned from Whitney, some progress was better than no progress.

She was excited to show Elijah her development, but she didn't realize just how excited she was until one of the nurses commented, "Wow, hon, your heart rate's awful high today, compared to usual." The woman assessed Liza's other vital signs, told Liza they were normal, and then let Liza know that she would be contacting the doctor, just in case, though she didn't believe there was any real underlying issue present. "You're probably just ready to be up and moving, aren't you?"

There was a pause, before the woman chuckled. "Yeah, your heart rate jumped with that one. Alright, hon, I'll let the doctor know, and we'll see if he wants to do anything more than an E-K-G, just to make sure everything's working as it should. I doubt it, though."

Sure enough, nothing more was done than an EKG, which only involved a technician entering, hooking Liza to a machine, waiting a minute, and then leaving with the words, "Looks good, Miss Garner."

Well, Liza certainly wasn't worried about her heart rate, since she knew exactly why it was high.

Thinking about the cause, she wondered where Elijah was—her mother was absent, as well, from what she could discern. It was odd for her to be left entirely alone, and she worried that some other horrible event had occurred.

God forbid Elijah was in another accident, or her mother was involved in one, or Milo—

Okay, no, stop. Not a good thought process to consider, especially if she didn't want to concern the doctor more than she already had with her damned heart rate.

Refocusing, she decided it would be best for her to make use of her alone time and try to move her fingers more than just a little. If she really centered on it, focusing on the tiny little muscles, then maybe—

Ah! There!

She was just barely able to form a loose fist, though the small action alone felt like it took an enormous amount of energy, and she had to stop trying only seconds later.

Damn.

She told herself she would continue trying, though, if only to get stronger, once she felt like she could.

Just . . . maybe she would wait a few minutes. Or an hour. God, she was tired again.

The familiar click and squeak of the door opening entered her ears, and she was wide awake as she listened to determine who had entered.

"Hey, pretty girl," it was Elijah, and he sounded beyond exhausted. There was a creak from the chair and a long, heavy sigh from Elijah as he dropped down beside her, where he almost always sat when he visited her. She felt the loss of weight as he lifted the blankets off her so he could stroke his hand over her arm, and she felt herself grow giddy with excitement when she was able to recognize the touch of his fingers against her skin.