CHAPTER FIVE
Emerson
AFTER SPLASHING MY FACE WITH water, I shuffle back into my room, climb into bed, and I lie back. Staring at the ceiling, I subconsciously begin to count the ceiling panels. There are five from the window to the door, and from the bathroom to above my bed there are twelve and a bit. I laugh to myself, this is something that Bella and I would have done, had I not turned bitchzilla and kicked her out earlier.
After counting the ceiling panels repeatedly, I doze off to sleep and I wake a few hours later. My body is less stiff, but I still feel emotionally drained and wiped out. Staring out the window I think about everyone, I wonder what Brian and I would have been planning to do if the events from yesterday hadn’t transpired.
Reaching over to the table by the bed, I open the top drawer and grab my phone; the new one that Brian bought for me yesterday after I smashed mine. It comes to life and before me is a picture of Brian and me on the night we got engaged. I sadly smile and rub my finger across his face, which causes the keypad lock screen to appear, so I type in my code. Clicking on the phone icon, I bring up Bella’s number. My finger hovers over the call button, but I can’t bring myself to dial. Taking the easy way out—code for too chicken to speak to her in person—I text her instead.
EMERSON - Bels, I’m sorry for being a mega bitch. Thank you for being here for me.
EMERSON - Love your face lady.
After hitting send on the messages, I stare intently at my phone and anxiously wait for her to text back. Watching my phone, I look at the time and realize that she’ll be our spin class right now. Before I can think on it anymore, the door opens and it’s dinnertime. MMMM, hospital food, I think to myself. The lady walks in, places the food tray down, and walks out. She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t talk; she just delivers. It’s likes she’s a robot. This causes me to laugh, a robot working in a hospital. Reaching over, I grab my phone to text Dave, but then I realize that I can never text Dave again. At that sad thought, I throw my phone onto the bed and absentmindedly dig into my dinner…that isn’t actually half-bad…for hospital food. Just as I’m wiping my mouth, my phone dings with an incoming text. Picking it up, I see that it’s Bella.
BELLA - No need to be sorry. This is a shitty tough time, you get a pass…for now. Love your face too XoXoX
BELLA – I’ll bring coffee and muffins in the morning. Nite nite muffin
BELLA - GIF of a sleeping muffin
EMERSON - GIF of hugging muffins
EMERSON - love you M1
BELLA - M1??
EMERSON - You are muffin 1. I’m muffin 2
BELLA - BAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA I totally love that. Nite, M2
EMERSON - Nite nite. M1
Placing my phone on the side table, I sigh as I pick up my Jell-O and pudding to finish my dinner. Somehow the apricot chicken was amazing, the dessert, not so much. Wiping my mouth, I throw the napkin on the tray and push it to the side. Carefully, I climb out of the bed, grab a new nightie from the bag that Bella brought up with her, and hop in the shower.
Turning the water on super hot, well as hot as a hospital shower can go, I stand under the stream and let it wash over me, wishing that the water could wash away all my sadness and pain. The temp starts to cool so I quickly lather up, wash myself, rinse off, and jump out. I’m drying my hair when the happy dinner lady collects my food tray, as she is leaving the nurse comes in. “I was just about to tell you to hop up and have a shower, but I see you beat me to it. How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Meh,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders as I climb back into bed. Thankfully she doesn’t try to cheer me up, she just nods and sadly smiles at me. Seems everyone smiles that way at me now.
“Do you need any pain meds or something to help you sleep?”
“No, I’m all good. Thanks.”
“You just buzz and let me know if that changes.”
“Thanks.” I nod before she turns and exits my room, leaving me alone…again.
* * *
The next morning I’m sitting on my bed, staring out the window when the door slams open and in stalks a smiling happy Bella. She has a tray of coffees and a brown paper bag that, by the smell of things, has something yummy and delicious in it. With a smile, I say, “I love you, Bels.”
“You only love me for my coffee and baked goods.”
“Yeah, and???” I smart-assly reply.
A flicker of sadness washes over her face, but she quickly replaces it with a smile, her fake cheerful one. I’ve known Bella since we were five, she can’t fool me. She’s hurting just as much as I am, and I know she’s putting on a brave front for me. Everyone seems to be pussyfooting around me at the moment; I just wish they’d stop. I just want them to…hell, I don’t even know what I want people to do at the moment; I don’t even know what I want at the moment. My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Bella declare in a terrible accent, “Breakfast is served.” It’s so bad I don’t even know what accent she is trying to portray. She hands me a coffee before she climbs onto the bed across from me and crosses her legs. Dragging the tray table over, she places her coffee down and digs into the paper bag, handing me a muffin and napkin.
Together in silence we drink our coffee and eat our muffins. For the first time ever, with Bella, the silence is awkward and really really uncomfortable, like first date awkward. Thankfully my doctor interrupts us. “Good morning, Ms. James. How are we feeling today?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Not too bad.”
“Any pain or discomfort? Bleeding?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, just a little spotting. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good. Good. And how about mentally?”
My mouth drops open in shock, I wasn’t expecting that question. “Umm, ahhh, yeah,” I awkwardly reply, but in my mind I’m yelling, How the fuck do you think I feel? I’ve lost everyone near and dear to me. I’m all alone, you twat! I quickly add, “I’m okay ‘ish, but I’m definitely ready to go home.” Glancing over to Bella I smile, but I can tell she knows I’m faking because I don’t even believe what I’m saying. Looking back toward the doctor, I smile again, but I’m pretty sure he knows that I’m not doing okay. “I just want to go home,” I quietly add, my eyes welling with tears.
“Physically you are ready to leave, Emerson, but mentally, I’m not so sure. Before I sign your release papers, I would like you to speak to our resident counselor. You have suffered a traumatic event and I need to make sure that you are of sound mind before I let you go.”
“I’m fine, really. I just want to go home.” Silently, I say to myself, I just want to lock myself away and grieve on my own and in my own way.
“She will be here shortly and then we can discuss you going home.”
“Fine, whatever,” I snap in reply, crossing my arms across my chest, sulking like a child.
“Ems, I think the doctor is right.” Bella breaks the silence that has fallen. “You need to speak to someone, remember when I lost Mom? You made me do exactly this. As much as it sucks, I think it’s for the best.”
“Fine, whatever,” I repeat, before anyone can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door and a petite lady walks in.
She looks toward Bella and I before smiling, fakely I might add. “Emerson, my name is Elena, I’m the resident counselor here. Are you up for having a quick chat?”
“I don’t really have a choice, so I guess so.” I know I’m being a bitch, but I don’t care at the moment. I just want to get out of here so I can go home. Lock myself away. Then everyone can leave me be.
“I’m Bella, Emerson’s best friend,” Bella says to Elena, as she climbs off the bed to shake Elena’s hand. I’m pretty sure the two of them have a subliminal conversation about me.
“Nice to meet you, Bella. Do you think you’d be able to give Emerson and me some privacy?”
“Sure, no worries.” She turns to me. “Ems, I’ll go get more coffee and a change of clothes.” She silently mouths to me ‘be nice’ before turning around and leaving me with the doctor and Elena. When did the doctor came back into the room? Looking back toward the window, I ignore them both. I can hear them murmuring by the door, then it opens and closes. I look over and realize that it’s now just Elena and me in the room, she walks over and takes a seat by the window. She doesn’t say anything; she just stares at me. Stubbornly, I stare back at her. Five minutes pass and neither one of us speaks.
Breaking the silence, I yell, “Gahhhh!” Letting out a frustrated sigh, I say, “Fine, talk.”
“What do you want to talk about, Emerson?” she throws back at me.
“I don’t want to talk at all, but the good doctor feels that I need to in order to go home.” She continues to stare at me, her eyes pleading with me to go on and all of a sudden, I do want to talk. “What do you want me to say? That yesterday my life fell apart. Everyone I hold near and dear to me is dead…” Absentmindedly, I rub my tummy again, “…and I lost a child I wasn’t even aware I was carrying.” I begin to cry, I wipe away the tears before adding, “And it’s all my fault because I got fired and that’s the only reason we were in the park. If I hadn’t gotten fired we would have all just gone about our day like normal, but because of me,” I poke myself harshly in the chest, “we were in the park at that precise time. I’m the reason my life imploded. I’m the reason they all died.” I poke myself harshly again, “Me!”
“And how does that make you feel?”
I stare at her, shocked. What a dumb question to ask. “How the fuck do you think I feel?”
“I ju…”
Raising my hand, I interrupt her. “No, you don’t get to interrupt when I start talking, you don’t get to say I’m sorry for your loss. Those words won’t bring anyone back, they won’t fix anything.” Tears begin to cascade down my cheeks. “I’m all alone. I lost the love of my life and our unborn child. I lost my mom, my dad, my brother, and my soon-to-be-in-laws. Seven people in an instant—gone.” I snap my fingers as I say this. “All because some fucker decided to be a asshat. Because of him,” I emphasise the word ‘him’, “I’m all alone now. There, I’ve talked. Can I go home now?”
“Emerson, I can’t imagine what you are going through right now, but after that outburst, do you feel better?”
Her reply stuns me. How do I feel now? I ask myself as I continue to stare at my crossed legs; tears still streaking down my face. Looking up at Elena, I scoff and shake my head in disbelief. “Actually, I do kinda feel a bit better.”
“And that’s what I’m here for, Emerson. I’m not here to magically make it all go away. I’m here to help you deal with it. To accept that what happened wasn’t your fault. We all deal with grief in various ways. We all cope using different methods. I’m here to give you a safe outlet. Anytime you need to vent, I’m available. I’m here to guide you back to happiness. Anytime you want to cry, to let it all out, to vent, I’m here. I’m here for you, Emerson, I’m not here to judge.”
“Wow, this isn’t at all what I thought it would be.” Running my fingers through my hair, I add, “Sorry for being a bitch.”
“As I said, it’s what I’m here for. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all disappear, even make everyone come back, but unfortunately I’m no Wizard of Waverly Place.” I look at her oddly. “My office is on Waverley Place in Greenwich Village.” I nod my head at her Disney Channel show reference. “The fact that you feel a tiny bit better after spending only twenty-five minutes with me is a sign that I’m doing my job, and that eventually, with time, you will be fine.” She closes her folder, leans on it and stares at me. “Emerson, it will take time, but I believe that you will be fine. Let’s leave it there, for today, anyway. I’m going to recommend that you be released.” My face lights up at this, but Elena holds up her finger. “BUT I want you to make an appointment to come and see me in the next few days. I understand that you aren’t ready to talk-talk, but you need access to someone who will listen without judgment. Someone who will let you vent and not take it to heart. I’m on your side and, Emerson, there are no judgments here.” She stands up. “Now, do you agree to my terms?”
“I don’t really have a choice, but yes, I agree.”
“Good, I’ve already made an appointment for you in three days.” She places her card on the table. “Emerson, I’m truly sorry for your loss, but I see a fire inside you and I know that you will come through this, dare I say, even stronger than you were before. It won’t be easy, but that’s when you turn to me, or your friend who was here. You need to let someone in; otherwise it will slowly eat you alive. Ask yourself this, would they want this for you?”
With that statement, she walks out of the room and leaves me sitting here…alone, which is how it will be from now on. But her parting words play over and over in my head. I lie back and stare at the ceiling, counting the tiles again, but this time I think, what would they want me to do?