The Suite Adult Life

August (12.6)

Israel

The acrid smell of bleach assaulted his senses as Cody tried to sit up from where he was. The pain instantly pushing him back into the soft pillows. Blinking against the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, Cody looked around at his sterile surroundings. The stark white walls, neatly arranged medical equipment, and the distant hum of machinery told him he was in a hospital. Slowly he lifted a hand to his throbbing head. The pain was merciless and was accompanied by a persistent ringing in his ears. If it wasn't for the splitting headache he would have welcomed the peace the ringing brought. Instead, it drowned out any attempt at a coherent thought.

The realization hit him like a wave - he was in a hospital, but where was he? And how did he get here? As the fog in his mind began to clear, fragments of memories surfaced - the whistling of missiles, the crumbled and burnt buildings, and the desperate scramble for survival. He slowly turned to look out the window and saw the sun shining into his room. How long had he been out?

A uniformed nurse entered the room, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "Ah, Mr. Martin, you're awake," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice cutting through the disorientation that still clung to Cody.

"What happened?" Cody managed to croak, his throat dry and scratchy.

"You were caught in an explosion in the West Bank," the nurse explained matter-of-factly.

As the pieces of his memory fell into place, Cody's mind raced to make sense of the situation. First, he realized he was fortunate to be alive; second, he had to ask about the other reporters. Thankfully, they were in a similar condition but alive and well. The nurse told him they were lucky to be so close to the camp's entrance. But there was a tone in her voice like she wasn't telling him the whole story. "Where's my camera?" He asked, eyes wide, the whole story coming back to him. Israel had been pushing a narrative that the refugees were an armed resistance but they saw the opposite. His pictures told their story - the story of oppression and genocide.

The nurse pursed her lips. "Your equipment is safe. I think your lens might be broken though..."

"Can you bring it to me? Please? I won't feel right until I have everything with me." He really needed to check in with Carla and, "oh shit" he whispered under his breath. Zack must be going out of his mind. He really needed to get a hold of him first.

Over the next few days, Cody found himself in a limbo between consciousness and dreams. Doctors and nurses floated in and out, checking his vital signs and asking routine questions about his well-being. He had a mild concussion, that was what the migraine was coming from. He was told if he wasn't wearing his helmet, he would have been dead. The blast had thrown him pretty much headfirst into the rubble. The bombs landing so close accounted for the ringing in his ears. And then there were the three broken ribs.

Yet, his mind remained fixated on the haunting memories of the explosion and the faces he had captured in his lens before the chaos ensued. He yearned to return to the streets, to continue bearing witness to the untold narratives of the Palestinian people, but the relentless migraine and ringing in his ears anchored him to the hospital bed. He had to rely on texting and sending selfies to show proof of life. The wall of text both his brother and his editor sent him was enough to make him go cross eyed. The pictures of his nieces helped. He could feel Zack's emotion bubbling right under the surface and it made him smile to know he was loved. His mother was ready to storm a castle and put him in a world of hurt for going on such a mission in the first place. Finally, London had become his advocate with his doctors. He couldn't hear what she was saying but the ashen faces in front of him told him all he needed to know. He had no doubt that he was getting the best treatment because of her.

There was one message, however, that kept him grounded through it all: Come home to me. It was the only thing Bailey sent and he wondered what kind of mind she was in when she did. She was the last person he saw before he left. Her one text broke through all of his restless thoughts and images as the explosion played on an endless loop in his mind. Each frame haunting him like the ghost of Christmas past. He found that when he fell asleep looking at her picture from the bar his dreams ceased.

In the quiet moments between medical exams, Cody immersed himself in his own memories. He revisited the photographs he had taken just moments before the blast, studying the faces of the people who had unknowingly become part of his story. The camera had always become his refuge, a shield against the harsh realities in his life. Now, it became a mirror reflecting the trauma he had endured.

The army kept him for a week longer than his original itinerary. His embed team came to wish him safe travels home. They knew he would bring his images to the world and show the truth of what was happening in the Holy Land. They were staying. This war-torn arid wasteland was full of vibrancy the world may never know. It was their purpose in life to protect it the best they could.

He got a message from Carla telling him that they'd upgraded him to business class 'for his troubles'. He could hear the sarcasm in her words and it made him smile. For now, he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep in his bed or on his brother's couch with his nieces curled up against him and not wake up for a month. But his flight home would have to suffice. He had work to do.

As he stepped into the sunlight, the vast expanse of the Middle East stretched before him. Cody's gaze lingered on the scars of conflict, the remnants of a tumultuous history etched into the landscape. The ringing in his ears, a fading echo, seemed to harmonize with the resilient heartbeat of the region. A reminder of the indomitable spirit that thrived amidst the ruins of conflict.