Leaves turn golden when autumn comes. Their color brightening with each passing day; the polar opposite of what the season brings from the skies. When the leaves fall off trees with winter, I always smile. Winter is never hippocritical. Winter gives you exactly what you expect: wind, snow, rain and a bitter cold that seeps into your blood. Winter is honest, brutally honest. Winter is my therapist. With the next wave of snowstorms or torrent of rains, I breathe easier, knowing that it can't get any worse. My father loved the cold. He never wore gloves, his fingers feeling scorching cold against my hands. He's the reason we lived in Maine. My mother always wanted to live in Florida, Hawaii or anywhere else that didn't have proper winters. That's my dad's term. Proper winter.
It's been a week since my meeting with the Dean. Every class with Trawlen, every school envelope, every glance at the administrative building reminds me of that moment. I can feel myself fizzing over like shaken carbonation. There must be something coming, a letter or an interview. Kyle can't give me any advice. He's helped all he can. And I wouldn't ask for any more from him. It's hard to be intimate, but we talk.
"Do you still love me, Kyle?" My question not aggressive or pouty. Kyle's eyes weren't evasive as I asked him this.
"I care about you. A lot. But sometimes even love isn't enough." He grins dimly as I hear these last words. His voice sounds matter-of-fact. Like we're both hanging onto each other as a strong wind whips around us. Neither of us wants to move, as we might get swept away. But after a disaster, there's always a need to start over. How Kyle and I will start over isn't clear yet.
The sound of a siren wakes me from my sleep this morning. Not that I was actually sleeping; more like a semi-conscious state, similar to tripping on depressants. I sorely creep out of the bed, leaving Kyle in the warmth of my covers, and look out the window. The sky is bright, contradicting the weatherman. The whole heavens are overcast, but my eyes are pained into a squint. The siren grows louder and I find flashing lights speeding towards me. They could be going to the building next door, I rationalize. But the fear in my heart suddenly bottoms out and I'm left with a metallic taste in my mouth. The ambulance halts directly in front of our lobby. A few long moments and I can already hear sounds coming from the hallway. My floor. I move somehow swiftly to my door and open it.
My own commotion has woken Kyle up. He stirs slowly, only knowing that something is not right. I glance back at him. The heavy footsteps in the stairwell bring my attention back to the hallway. I gingerly take a step into the hall, automatically turning towards the elevator bay. Other than the growing cacophony of the paramedic's footsteps, my ears pick up no other sound. My eyes barely blink, Kyle's hand gently slipping across mine. A man stands against the wall, unable to hold himself up straight. His eyes are fixed and blank, his gaze focused on something I can't see. But I know. Something inside slides through me and my knees give out.
Jasmine. Her long hair is strewn about the carpet like a puddle of oil. A pale arm bends unnaturally from underneath the hair. Her torso lies halfway through her doorway, like she'd tumbled while opening the door. It's only later that I realize she's naked. For a time, I hear nothing but my own breathing and the soft cadence of my heartbeat. Kyle's hand grabs hold of mine again. All in fast-forward, the paramedics drag her body onto a stretcher, fussing over her, nearly cracking her chest with their fists. A slur of words, a few harsh cries and I'm back in my room with Kyle. His solid chest is a great expanse of warmth. My walls, a faint blue, start to spin counter clockwise. A flurry of snowflakes seems to whirl me around and my eyes close.
I wake up on my bed, with Kyle hanging over me. I hear his voice, but can't make out the words. Something about his eyes? I focus on his until I notice the room has stopped twirling.
"Hi. Hey there." There's a jagged edge in his voice, like he's scared of something but trying to cover it up with a blanket. I try to sit up but fail. Kyle holds on to my arms and sits me up, leaning me against his chest.
"Jasmine. Oh God... Kyle, she was... Oh my God..." My breath is slipping from my lips and Kyle rubs my back to calm me. Like a stubborn child, I don't want to give in to him. He overwhelms me as I close my eyes again, willing a dark vertigo to come and whisk me away.
"It's ok. Ang, look at me. Come on, it'll be alright." He plies my forehead away from his shoulder and I open my eyes, facing him. Kyle pulls me up and throws some clothes at me. I barely put my jeans on, slip the sweater over my head and force my feet into my tied sneakers as Kyle opens the door. Outside in the hallway, all remnants of the previous scene are gone. No more paramedic pumping on her chest, no more stunned bare-chested male leaning against the wall, no more Jasmine. The silence eats away at my inner ear and I miss a step, swaying into Kyle's arm. The drive to the hospital is endless. Each curve in the road blurs my eyes with dizziness. My mind is blank, awaiting a tragic moment that never comes. We finally reach the parking lot and when Kyle parks, I can't move. Kyle unbuckles my seatbelt and holds my hand as he leans back into his seat.
"You ready?" I shake my head in a negative response, but I get out of the car anyway.
Before I blink the water from my eyes, the hospital looks like the admin building for a nanosecond. A hot flush of nausea, but I diligently put one foot in front of the other. Jasmine. She's lying in there all alone. She needs me. And Bobby.
"Shit!" I say aloud. Kyle perks his head towards me.
"What is it?"
"Bobby. He doesn't know. Call Bobby. Please, we need to call Bobby." Kyle reaches for my cell phone in my jacket pocket. An orderly sees Kyle with the cell phone and shakes his head. Kyle pushes me forward, nodding his head, searching for Bobby's number in my address book.
"Go on, I'll be right there. Go on. ... Bobby! Hi." Kyle turns his back on me, talking to Bobby. I turn towards the entrance. Its sliding doors seem menacing at best. A giant mouth ready to devour me once I enter. Randomly, I recall my mother's shouting voice. I wandered away from her at the grocery store once. She shouted at me in front of other customers. Never leave my side, Angela! Never! I think back to Jasmine. Her black hair covering her helpless limbs. My feet act on their own accord, leading me towards the giant mouth.
Once over the threshold, relief swells over me. But at the same time, my heart pounds out an S.O.S signal. Suddenly, my energy is back. My feet take me to the information desk, my lips and tongue asking questions about Jasmine's condition, my fingers signing some forms. The nurse at the desk tells me to wait for the doctor. I sit. For what seems like forever, I keep extremely patient. My legs do not bounce from nervousness, I do not bite my nails in frustration; I sit. My eyes linger on the nurse, willing her to look at me with the promise of information.
The waiting room is not green, but rather a pale yellow. The kind of yellow that reminds me of Care Bears and Easter candy. If I were to look closer, I would see tiny buds of roses blooming in perfectly straight vertical lines. Their potentially beautiful figure would undoubtedly make my eyes swell with tears. But I do not see them. The nurse looks at me, jutting her chin upwards in an acknowledging nod. My legs feel freed from their waiting and I scramble over to her counter.
"She's out of the emergency room." A deep sigh awaits its entrance into the world, but its birth never comes. "She's being transferred up to critical care. If you can just wait here a little longer, the doctor will be with you." I hear a huffing from the doorway and I turn to see Kyle and Bobby loping towards me. Bobby is a wreck, but Kyle merely rubs his lips together.
"Is she ok?" Kyle knows what I will say before he asked the question.
"She's in critical care." I can hear the deep gravity of my voice and Bobby responds in tears. I can feel my whole body being pulled into itself, my heart slowing down. Bobby's shoulders go slack and Kyle walks him over to the line of chairs, where I was just sitting. I turn back to the nurse.
"Where are the bathrooms?"
"Down the hall, past X-ray, on your left." Conveniently, a phone call comes in and she answers. I walk towards X-ray, but continue past the bathrooms. The directory beside the elevator doesn't have critical care on it. But that doesn't matter. Something inside me guides me to her floor. The elevator dings twice at the fourth floor. The doors open and I step out into a radiantly white hallway. I tread carefully, so as not to screech my rubber soles against the perfectly waxed floors. I feel dark and looming, as if the walls were leaning in, creeping towards me in a flanking attack. Even when I was little, I always knew when I was doing something wrong. My stomach would always feel light and bouyant, my ears would prick back like an animal's and I would hide my thumbs inside a fist.
Inside the maze of a hospital, I can sense myself growing more and more calm. Although my palms are sweaty and my eyes are constantly flitting to one side and the other, my feet carry me to the end of a short hallway. All the doors are closed and there are wheeled carts sitting outside every door. Each is different, with either few or many gadgets. At the far end is a door without a cart. The lack of natural light in this hallway only intensifies my presence. My body is huge as a giant and my footprints are massive. The door is small to me and I have an urge to kick it open. Instead, I push lightly with my hand. My body shrinks instantly when I can't open the door easily. I use both hands and push harder, finally making my way into the room. The room is bright. Very bright, with daylight streaming in from the window. The air is stifling and thick until I force myself to speak.
"Jasmine." My voice is a whisper and my once giant figure is now embarrassingly tiny. This is not one of those moments from film where only a curtain remains. My character only has to pull it aside and see her friend lying in a horrible state of sleep, tubes and machines hooked up to her like a Frankenstein monster. No, Jasmine lies cock-eyed on her bed. As if she's merely taking a nap. I stand a few feet away from her bed, but cannot move any further. I clear my throat and whisper her name again. Her body moves slightly, the gentle settling of an uncomfortable sleeping position. There are no tubes. Only a heart monitor, providing sound to her fragile heart. It does not beat like mine. I can suddenly appreciate the powerful rhythm of my own red, bloody muscle. Her rhythm is off-beat and slow.
I hear a voice or two from the hallway, probably doctors or nurses. They aren't close to Jasmine's door, but I realize my outlawed presence in her room. This was not the horror I imagined in my mind. Jasmine is not dying or dead. I slowly turn towards the door, listening for my chance to leave. When I hear complete silence, except for Jasmine's heartbeat, I slip out from the heavy door. Down in the lobby, Kyle and Bobby are patiently waiting for me. The nurse is not at her desk, so I head straight for the sliding doors. Bobby stays sitting, while Kyle moves to follow me outside. Kyle automatically grins in relief when we finally look each other in the eye. He gives me the keys to the car and heads back inside.