The Moments

Chapter One

JORDAN WILLS

I wake up in a hospital bed. It takes me nearly two minutes of groggy thought to come to this conclusion and it takes even longer to realize its unusual for me to wake up in a hospital bed. Especially considering I don't know why I'm there. I usually wake up in a normal bed with a feather down pillow and a grey comforter. This pillow is flat and the blanket is thin. The whole bed kind of sucks.

You'd think I'd have better things to worry about, but to be quite honest I'm only pressing the button for a nurse because I'd really like another pillow. It feels urgent. She arrives in all of her blue scrub glory fully ready to explain an event I don't recall. She has soft features. She's the kind of person one would expect to explain their accident to them. Everything about her is round, her head, her eyes, her plump lips. She smiles a warm, pitiful smile.

    "Your mother went to pick up your brother from school-" she begins, but I cut her off.

    "Do you have another pillow?"

    Her almond shaped eyes narrow slightly, her circular head cocks. "Pardon?"

    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. My neck is sore and I'd greatly appreciate another pillow." My words come out faster then I mean for them to. Like they're spilling out of me and I'm struggling to catch them before they get away. The nurse is smiley and kind despite my disregard for her explanation. She nods quickly and heads off on her quest.

    Once she's gone I sigh and sit up. My world tilts and sways in a funny way. Like earth's axis is being wiggled. I tip my chin up and stare at the ceiling. I am taking the fragments of memory I have and building a story out of them. The order of events are jumbled and I can only picture them in a blurry haze, but I've mostly worked out what lead to me being in this bed.

The nurse returns with another god awful pillow and I mutter a "Thanks" as she slips it behind my head.

    "You said your neck hurts? I could see about getting you some pain medication," she says, looking at me warily.

    She's young and eager to be more than a scrub nurse. Her hands don't stop moving. They tug on her shirt and rub up and down her arms. She fidgets as though if she stops her hands will slide right off of her and onto the checkered floor. I think about saying yes to the meds, just because I feel my head aching. Except I've grown accustomed to recognizing pain as a sign that I'm still alive. Better yet, I've been programmed to recognize that being alive is a very good thing to be. So I politely decline and allow her to tell me a story about myself that I've already figured out. Once she's double checked that I am comfortable and understand everything that happened, she gives me another of her smiles and disappears down the hall.

I am awake now and there's not much for me to do with my consciousness but think and observe. I focus on the sound of people walking down the hall. Various paces, shoes, weight, patterns. Some shuffle, some speed walk, some of them make a satisfying click with each step. I get to wondering how I sound when I walk. I'm not heavy, so I probably walk light. I never have anywhere to be, so I'm probably pretty slow. I have a weird amount of confidence though, so I don't bother thinking about how much noise my steps make. It also probably depends on my shoes. I might be dozing off as I contemplate the mechanics of my gait, but my eyes are open and out of my peripheral I see my mom step into the doorway.

She looks terrified. Like she thought I might have died within the half hour she was gone. Complete and utter horror is etched into her face. Her frown lines are deeper than the Grand Canyon. Without noticing it, I sit up straighter to combat the feeling that I am shrinking under her gaze. Her eyes scream at me in the absence of her voice. She stands all too still for all too long. She is reprimanding me with her eyes. She looks exhausted. I've put her through agony and I feel like crap for it.