Time doesn't exist, for you. In the white expanse of a hospital room, the sixteen years of your life have disappeared; there is only Now. A brain injury has turned you into a stranger, but with each painful piece of progress you gain new awareness...
It's peaceful again, like before you'd known your brain was broken. There are no thoughts, just quietness. Emptiness. Peace. You sit in an armchair by your window, staring into the scrapyard. You've been staring at the same bent wheel for a long time. Maybe forever.
Your mind is roused from its stasis by the sound of your mother. You hear her bustle into your room and put her bag down on your trolley table, keys landing with a gentle clink.
'Hello,' her voice comes from beside you, but you don't turn to see. You don't interrupt your peace. 'I talked to the nurses. They told me Bryan broke up with you.'
By text message, you want to tell her. But speaking feels like too much effort. By a text message sent with the cellphone I'd bought him for Christmas.
'Are you okay?' Her questions drifts into your ear, then out just as smoothly. There is no answer to that question. It's a stupid question. You breathe, evenly. In. Out.
You stare at the bent wheel.
It's peaceful again.
'Say something!' Your mother's tone is brusque. What is there to say, though? Still motionless, you parse possible responses in your sleepy mind, discarding each of them in turn.
And you say nothing. You're aware of her pacing, behind you.
'Not this again!' She sounds angry.
What does she mean, 'again'? This is the first time you've been dumped. It's the first time you've even sat in this chair. This hasn't happened before. So, what does she mean? You wonder, but you don't ask. Maybe you'll ask later, when you can bring yourself to move.
'I can't do this again!' Yes, she definitely angry. Almost yelling, now. It confuses you, so you decide to ignore it.
'Let me know when you're ready to be reasonable,' she growls. 'I'll come back then.' You hear brisk paces. The clatter and jingle of keys as her bag is lifted from the table and swings over her shoulder.
You don't understand the reason she speaks to you like this, but you recognise it as unusual. Maybe she thinks she's safe to say it, that you can't hear. Maybe she thinks you're unaware, again.
Again.
Maybe that's the again she was talking about.
She leaves without saying goodbye.
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