Cygnus and Christopher

Untitled Part 14

Asleep in the chair in the woods, I had this dream of an alternate version of the first day of summer. Even though the events of the dream resembled the past, in the haze of sleep it felt much more like the future.

Bandages are located in the bathroom drawer. So, this is where we head upon getting back to Chris's house. The ride back proved more dangerous than we had thought. Chris had been riding eyes closed and with no hands during a long flat stretch. He was close to a new personal best, I was counting this time, when he swerved to the right and crashed in the ditch. Then when I tried to stop and dismount I feel myself. Somehow in the last light of the day we made it back; bruised, cut, and drunk.

Sylvia walks into the bathroom through the open door to find Chris and I sloppily attempting to clean and cover our wounds. "Chris why didn't you answer your phone? I tried contacting you several times. And you didn't even tell me where you were going before you left." Chris responds without turning to look at his mother. "Beach. We were at beach. I don't want sand in my phone so I left it at home. But, I'm here now so what did you have to tell me." The words she speaks are bookended with silence, "I have some awful news."

And so here I find myself, in Chris's bathroom, wondering how much still numbness I will stand through before the generic awful news sheds its skin and reveals a uniquely saddening creature beneath it. What spell of information will it cast that will shatter the picturesque start of the summer. "Suzan and Tomas are in the hospital." Yep, the daydream is dead, leaving my body with a squeaked "oh."

"They overdosed on pills. I was going to suggest you go visit, but neither of you two appear to be in a condition capable of operating a car, which is-" Robert walks in and interrupts, coming to our rescue. "I'll drive them." Sylvia stares at Robert for a while, eventually huffing out an okay.

Things grow more urban as we, two tired teenagers, are transported to the nearest hospital. Being night now, the world offers itself to view only in small snatches. Street lamps and building lights are sentinels, guarding the gate of what is visible. Riding at night is often so pleasant for me, conquering vast darkness, going where we pleased, unhinged from the hustle of crowds with their own destinations. Not tonight though, the darkness only serves as a suffocating symbol of how great joy can so quickly be robbed by frightening uncertainty. Not complete uncertainty, only uncertainty in the sense that we are unsure of exactly what bad thing is closing in on us.

Robert stops the car in the parking lot and tells Chris to call him when we want a ride back. We both thank him for driving us as we step out of the car.

Inside the hospital is white and bright, and we find our way to an information desk. The person there tells us that Tomas is still unresponsive, but we can go see Suzan. Eventually we find our way to her room on the third floor. Her mom is there; she thanks us for coming then gives us some time alone with Suzan.

"Hey guys." She looks so fragile while she greets us, like paper origami left in the rain. Her left arm is by her side, palm up, idly accepting whatever medicine the maze of tubes draped around her offer. I try to conjure up something to say, but it is recurrently unsuccessful. Even with lowered inhibitions, nothing feels right.

Christopher seems caught in the same struggle, but eventual crawls out of it. "So, how is it going?" Suzan picks up on his mumbled speech and instead of answering, she asks a question of her own. "Have you two been drinking?" She even laughs a bit as she says it. Christopher and I latch onto this moment of apparent joy and join the laughter, "Yeah."

Suzan smiles and also starts crying a bit, perhaps the apparent joy was truly a raindrop in the desert, a seed in dead ground. "Could you guys tell me about it? I mean every time I have got drunk with you guys it has been pretty fun and well I'd like to hear about something nice."

Off we go, telling the story of our day. Christopher leads and I chime in on occasion to validate or clarify things Christopher has perhaps exaggerated too extremely. So, from the dimly light third story hospital room we take Suzan through a summer day much more alluring than hers is. As much as we imagine some other place we can't really leave fully this place. At times the bleeping of equipment or the hustling of staff outside will override the imaginary world and replace it with sensory life.

Just after the story collides with the present, a nurse comes in. He says he has to do something. Judging by the equipment he brings with him it involves needles. Suzan looks at me, biting her trembling lower lip, extending her non needle infused hand towards me. I take her hand; letting it clamp around mine while the nurse does their work. Upon reopening her previously hard shut eyes Suzan thanks me. I tell her it is no problem.

Before the nurse leaves he lets us know that visiting hours are just about over. So, Chris and I stand and gently hug whatever part of Suzan we can get to. Embraced in the group hug Chris asks what I had been thinking, but unsure if I should ask. "Why did you do it?"

Suzan doesn't answer right away and Chris seems to think he maybe shouldn't have asked that. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer."

"No it's okay I am just thinking." So that is what she does, think for a bit then answers. "I guess I just wanted to feel different. Really, truly different, and I didn't care how far I had to go to achieve that. So, ahh yeah that's why I guess."

I wonder what that feels like, wanting to get away so bad. So bad, that anywhere will do, taking the chance of landing in one of many possibilities just to not be here. Even when among the possibilities is death. "Did it work?"

Three words come out Chris's mouth and snip some of the wiring inside of Susan. She snobs heavily and if she attempts to speak, I am unable to understand a word. Along the side of my spine, I can feel her nails clawing into skin. Her tears have soaked through my shirt and damped my shoulder. With every second Suzan becomes more frantic, like each atom within her is running in different directions.

Somehow in his drunkenness, Christopher finds a way to bring back balance. "Suzan you may want to get away, but I am hard pressed to think of two people I want to get closer to than you and Cygnus. And given the fact that I think you drew blood with that hug, well, I'll say I am doing all right on that front."

This doesn't stop Suzan's sobbing, but it slows it. She let's go of us and rubs her free forehand across her cheek and eyes. Chris glances is at me, I think he is looking for approval of his mini speech. I slightly shrug my shoulders and he mirrors my movement.

The nurse comes back in and tells us that it is time to go. On the way out, we say farewell to Susan, she waves goodbye.

Back at Chris's house I unroll a sleeping bag on the floor next to his bed. Chris stands by the light switch, waiting for me to get situated before he turns it off. With my head on a pillow I give him thumbs up. The lights don't go off. Instead Chris reaches into his dresser and pulls out a flask, quickly taking a few gulps from it. After he finishes his last swallow he extends his hand, offering me a drink.

"No thanks."

"Okay. Suit yourself. Personally though, I believe it is a sin to sleep sober on a night like tonight."