Begin Again

Chapter 8

If you were to ask me what I did all day, I would not know what to tell you, let alone where to begin. Today has been a mixture of tears, hugs , balloons, and get well soon cards. It is funny how many close friends someone can accumulate when they are on the brink of death. Relatives, friends, coworkers, and more "friends" that I have never seen before come in and out of the room so frequently everything has turned into a giant blur. I am surprised that the hospital has not yet flooded with all the tears that were shed in this room today. I have seen so many tears that the prospect of me ever crying again makes my stomach turn in disgust.

I sit in the stiff, hospital chair next to my Dad and allow the steady beep...beep...beep reassure me that he is still here. I am exhausted from corralling people in and out of my Dad's room all day and so I am content just sitting beside him letting my brain slip into a haze of oblivion. My aunt insisted that I go home and get a good nights rest in my own bed, but I could never do that to my Dad. I cannot bring myself to leave this dreary place until he wakes up, and I have to believe that he will wake up.

As I sit on the plastic covered chair, my mind not fully conscious, yet I am awake, I hear something that snaps me out of my dreamlike state.

"Sorry Jennifer, I didn't mean to startle you." ugh, Storm is back.

I am one of those girls that you can never quite figure out because I am closed off to even the closest of my friends. I used to try so hard to allow people past my internal barriers, but I have already given away all my trust and it is crumpled on the floor, broken by the many feet that have stomped it into the earth. However, now with Storm I have the opposite problem, I have to will my guard to stay up around him.

"Hey," I reply with as few words as possible, afraid that soon I will say too many words and I will be barren of more than just my trust.

"Well, practice is over for the day and so I decided to drop by and see how you were doing," Storm says, looking a little nervous, "and to see how your dad is doing," he quickly added.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I answered cautiously. Why does he look so nervous? Shouldn't I be the one who is nervous since a guy I barely know is sitting next to me in a hospital room with my half dead Dad!

"No changes?" He asks me

"Nope...."

Awkward silence fills the air as Storm continues to sit there, both of us staring at my Dad like he will somehow wake up if we just stare hard enough. The moments dragged on as if we were in a movie set to slow motion. Soon, I hear Storms chair scrape against the tile ground. He walks to the door and out of the room, just like that without an acknowledgement of goodbye or even a Hallmark greeting of 'get well soon'. Stupid! Is all I can think. This is why I don't let my guard down, why I would rather be by myself than let people in, because as soon as they walk in, they walk out of your life, this time literally! I sit there half disappointed that he didn't try to get to know me and half relieved that I am saved from trying to cover up the sob story that is my life.

After ten minutes of wallowing in self-pity, I hear the door's hinges groaning against the heavy wooden door. To my surprise, in walks the blond haired, blue eyed soccer player.

"Fancy seeing you here," I say sarcastically with and undertone of anger.

"Sorry, you just looked so pale I thought you might need to get your blood sugar up," Storm walks to the chair next to me, like this is a normal everyday thing. He comes baring two coffees and two pink bags with what I presume to be donuts inside. Well, at least there's one thing he's good for. I happily accept the food he offers me and can barely mutter a thank you before my donut is already being digested.