{"id":2086,"date":"2020-12-09T21:15:13","date_gmt":"2020-12-10T04:15:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2086"},"modified":"2020-12-10T16:13:04","modified_gmt":"2020-12-10T23:13:04","slug":"the-visit","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2020\/12\/09\/the-visit\/","title":{"rendered":"The Visit"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: “We all have a favorite day of the week. Make a story where your protagonist has a favorite day. Use emotions that will let the reader know why this day is the favorite day of the week. Show, don’t tell.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice had often wondered what people in a coma experienced. Now she didn’t. Long hours of nothing, followed by the awareness of others. This, punctuated by the repeated, excruciating effort to move, open her eyes, make a sound, scream, anything to tell them, \u201cI\u2019m still here!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Voices came clear to her. The doctors would speak about her as if she didn’t exist. The nurses were more careful, speaking as if to include her. One of them told her everything. Car accident, the other driver\u2019s fault. Saturday the 14th on highway 512. Head injury. In surgery they had removed a small piece of her skull to relieve the pressure, and “when you’re more healed, they’ll replace it with a metal plate.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice tried to imagine what she looked like with her head shaved. All those beautiful curls she grew out since the age of twelve gone. She wondered if her face was getting pale, her own coffee-with-cream complexion already lighter than her big sister Nicole\u2019s, with her red-brown skin and black hair. Unlike her big sister, people referred to Alice as \u201cmixed.\u201d She hated the term, and would respond by saying \u201cNo, unlike you, both<\/em> of my parents are humans.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shouldn’t worry about my skin and hair when I can\u2019t even move.<\/em> Besides, what about my curves? I\u2019m gonna get all bony and gross.<\/em> Then, more attempts to move. Maybe a finger if she concentrated hard enough\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Things happened to her at regular intervals, others in the room, the sounds of something close to her head. \u201cI\u2019m changing your IV now, sweetie\u201d followed by coolness entering her arm. Other things happened at less regular intervals, things that meant she was helpless. \u201cWe\u2019re going to change your linens and wash you now.\u201d Being lifted by strong arms, the warmth of the damp cloth which left her chilled before drying with the rough towel. \u201cTime for a little exercise,\u201d and they manipulated her limbs, fingers and toes curled and extended. She wanted to say \u201cIf that\u2019s exercise then I\u2019m already a fitness model.\u201d Since she couldn’t speak she would imagine the words at them as hard as possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The days passed in much this vein for, she guessed, three or four weeks now. Frustration, exertion, failure and the ever-growing despondency of \u201cWhat happens if I never wake up?\u201d Amid all this, time became an elusive thing, always outside her ability to perceive, except to know it passed, punctuated weekly by her one bright spot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey pookie-butt! I brought you some music.\u201d Nicole\u2019s voice was like spring after a hard winter. Her presence like a spotlight shining on her. Or was she experiencing synesthesia now?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No matter, now that Nicole was here, it was Saturday. That meant another week down, but another whole day with her sister. Before the accident, listening to her sister prattle on about her dating successes and failures, and her nine-to-five in a cubicle farm in Seattle was annoying. Now, however, pretending at normal<\/em>, even for a day, was the greatest gift she could imagine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTodd, that I told you about last week? Yeah\u2026 not so much.\u201d Nicole\u2019s hands were cool against her own, it must be cold out again. \u201cHe got mad that I cancelled going to the concert with him tonight. Can you believe that? Like he\u2019s more important than you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice wanted nothing more than to grab her sister\u2019s hand and tell her how much she loved her. The sound of music, N.E.R.D. Seeing Sounds, filled the room. Her sister\u2019s music tastes didn\u2019t match her own, but this was the favorite of her junior year in high school.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t listened to this since you made me way back when.\u201d Nicole\u2019s voice moved across the room. \u201cOh, thanks.\u201d The smell of\u2026 was that mom\u2019s baked mac and cheese? But she only made that for\u2026. \u201cGod, Alice, you\u2019ve got the sweetest nurses. You can\u2019t see it, but they put up a big birthday banner for you, and they were nice enough to heat my lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It couldn\u2019t be her birthday yet. Unless she lost days somewhere. If it was<\/em> her birthday that would mean Nicole was visiting on a Thursday. \u201cWhat day is it!?\u201d She tried to scream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry I won\u2019t be here for your actual birthday, but I figured we’d celebrate early.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first thing I\u2019ll say when I wake up is \u201cI love you so much.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure what to get you, but it\u2019s down to a new phone, or a new coffee mug with a kitten picture. I\u2019m pretty sure you don\u2019t want the phone, but if you do, all you have to do is say so, in the next sixty seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No, the first thing I\u2019ll say when I wake up is \u201cyou\u2019re an ass, jerk-face.\u201d Then I\u2019ll tell her I love her.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Other than the music there was silence. It carried on far too long. When one song ended, and before the next started, she heard it. Sniffles. Nicole was crying. \u201cNo. No, nonononono\u2026 it\u2019s ok, jerk-face\u201d she wanted to say. Anything to comfort her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, pookie-butt. Guess I\u2019m not a very good sister. I made you birthday mac and cheese, and I\u2019m sitting here eating it\u2026\u201d she choked on her words. \u201cDamn it, I thought it would help, but I just want you to call me names, or tell me to shut up. Sorry to cry all over you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice felt a kiss on her cheek, and her own tears. No, first thing is definitely \u201clove you, jerk-face.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She felt Nicole wiping her own tears away. \u201cListen, munchkin. I know you can hear me, and I\u2019m sorry if I made you sad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No, not sad, just too full of happy to keep it in.<\/em> Why wouldn’t her face move, at least? Show some happy for my stupid, sweet sister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t get you a kitten mug. It\u2019s a gift card, ’cause I suck at birthdays.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice felt Nicole rise from beside her. She wanted to tell her that the best present ever was having her here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, baby sis. I\u2019m gonna go clean myself up and come back. And then I can tell you about my promotion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alice knew that even once she was no longer a prisoner in her own body she would spend every Saturday she could with her sister. There was nothing better in the world. And for today, she looked forward to hearing about her sister\u2019s promotion.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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