Don't Forget Me

Chapter 5

When I wake for the third time, the room comes into focus much faster. The haze that was hanging around the edges of my vision has cleared, and the pain in my head has settled into more of a dull ache. I finally feel like myself, or in control of my own body at least.

My mom is asleep, curled up on a tiny couch under the window, the night sky pitch-black on the other side of the glass. My dad is passed out in the recliner, his work boots dangling off the end and onto the floor.

I breathe in, remembering where I am, and why I'm here.

There was an accident. I was in a coma... I was in a coma for... two weeks? TWO weeks?

There's a creak in the doorway and I jump when I see a girl standing just outside the threshold, in the hallway. Her brown hair is pulled half up into a ponytail. She's got on purple flip-flops and jean shorts, but not the kind you buy from the store. More like an old pair of jeans that have been ripped off at the thigh. 

Why is she here?

She doesn't move, doesn't come closer or back away. She just stands there, looking at me. I watch her eyes light up and a smile spread across her face as her chest expands and contracts under the fluorescent lights.

"I heard..." Her voice quivers but still cuts through the silence, the random beeping of my heart rate monitor. My dad stirs awake in his chair with one loud snort as she steps through the doorframe, her flip-flops dragging against the linoleum.

"Oh, hi," he says, looking from me to her, suddenly alert. Her smile drops into a straight line. "Umm... now's maybe not the best time." He sits up, pushing the footrest back into place under him.

She doesn't look over at him, and I can't figure out why, but neither do I. We just hold each other's gaze as she takes a step toward me.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Could you come back?" my dad tries again, scooting to the edge of his recliner. Still she doesn't acknowledge him. There's something about the way she's looking at me, refusing to let her attention stray anywhere else, that makes me want to let her stay.

"It's okay, Dad," I say, and she takes a couple more steps until she's standing at the foot of my bed. I look over at my dad, and he glances over at my mom, who is still fast asleep.

"Okay, well, umm... God, where do I even start?" He pauses, motioning to the girl like she's some kind of trifold foam board at a science fair. I look down at her hands, now clutched around the foot of the bed. "Roseanne, this young lady here. She..." He stops to clear his throat. "Well, she saved your life."

Holy shit.

He continues, "I know you don't remember much about what happened, but you fell. You fell a long way down into a ravine. And she heard you scream."

I fell into a ravine? What?

As he explains, she doesn't look away from me. Not once. She barely even blinks. I don't even think she's listening. Instead, it feels like she wants to tell me something else entirely.

"I don't know how she did it..." He shakes his head at her in disbelief. "But she got you out of there. Carried you over a mile on her back, through the woods and out to the main road."

The woods? What woods? Why the hell would I be in any sort of woods? And how did this girl carry me for that long? I stutter around my thoughts for a few seconds, but then I realize the magnitude of what he's saying. She's responsible for me being alive. I don't know what to say, but I look up at her face, see her eyes looking back at me, and realize I have to say something. "Thank you," I tell her with as much meaning as I can.

She nods and leans toward me, just an inch or so, barely enough to even notice. Her eyes are scanning my face like she can't believe I'm here but also like she's... searching for something.

I clear my throat and glance at my dad as he stares down at his clenched hands.

"I don't... I don't know what else to say," I tell her, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. What... What's your name?"

She sucks in a quick, sharp breath, her eyebrows knitting together over wide eyes.

"It's Lisa. You don't..." She clamps both hands over her mouth, quiet sobs escaping through the cracks between her fingers. Her breathing gets so big and heavy that it racks her entire body.

I don't know what to do. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but before I can figure it out, she turns her back to me and quickly disappears out into the hallway.

We sit there, my dad and I, both of us watching the door.

"That was kinda"—I shrug—"weird."

"I'm sure it was traumatic, finding you like that," he tells me. "You know, she's been here every single day that you have."

"She has?" I look over at him.

"Roseanne." He comes over to sit on my bed, the whole mattress tilting under his weight as he scratches at his five o'clock shadow, which I rarely see. "What the hell were you doing at the Manobal's?"

"Manobal, as in... Manobal's Meats?" I picture the oversized warehouses and the herds of cattle off Route 58, which I pass on the bus ride to school every morning. But I've never seen them up close. Right?

I shrug. "I have no idea."

"You were supposed to be at the coffee shop that day."

"What? What coffee shop?" I ask, squinting at him.

He cocks his head and furrows his brow. "The one you've been working at over in Endover for like two years now?"

A chill crawls up my spine even as I huff out a confused laugh. "Dad, I've never worked at a coffee shop. And I've never been to the Martin farm. And I have no idea who that girl was at all."