WYATT
“Wyatt, this sucks hairy cat nuggets. There’s nothing more I want than for you to wake your ass up. I’m not doing this alone,” Doll mutters to herself as she’s watching television.
Time is so out of sync as I flick through memories, like the stations China switches through. Hearing every minute sound, feeling everything like a ticking time bomb in my head. Nothing changes. If they leave me in my mind for much longer, I’ll be a bigger mess than I was before. I know it.
Hearing the scuffle of people as they move around the tiny space, or when the alarms resounds with a horrific yelp to pierce the silence, I feel like a cat with my nails stuck on the blinds.
Daily, they’re in the room switching over bedding, scraping chairs on the floor, opening and closing curtains, all to keep the perception of normalcy. As daylight streams in, it caresses my skin when it makes the hairs on my arm stick up. It keeps up the pretence that I’m alive. I’m not alive, I’m surviving.
Doll has spent every waking hour with me. I’ve yet to speak with her, nor have I opened my eyes, and I haven’t been able to say thank you to her for being here. There’s nothing I wish for more. Nothing.
I want to tell her what happened, how everything changed in seconds.
How the drive down was fine, the highway serene. Mother and I were more than fine. Hell, the day was fucking fantastic! A moment of clarity with refreshing dialogue was cordial, and I almost felt loved.
Our relationship had always been abrasive and volatile like an A-bomb. Constantly requiring interference from Dad, or from neatly filled syringes. That was our life together. Our relationship normally sucked, and I feel horrible that now Whiskey and Doll, especially Doll, have been robbed of feeling the same as I did that day. Dad would have been so happy to see it.
Dad.
Wow, there’s a whole other regret. Sorrow for not being able to give him the peace of personally seeing it happen. To tell Doll there was laughter, joy, and peace at the end would seem incorrect, but it’s true; we had peace. Yeah, that’s it. We understood each other for however brief a moment it was.
We were conversing and acting like family should. We still hadn’t really spoken about my new position then, and I’d thought about it a ton sitting here in this blank hallway of a mind, but I feel no better about it.
Thinking about home and that day, I see everything in my mind as if I’m there. The sun is just below the horizon, falling into the bright ocean. I can see the riptide as it rolls along the coast with the promise of days in the surf; downtime and relaxation after the will reading. Yes, I knew we’d be in for a few days of odd remarks, packing, tears, copious amounts of alcohol, and dangerous emotional implosions. Plus, there would be the silent diners where we’d all ignore the vacant seat at the table. I’d hoped for a bit of friendly competition with Doll on the track, and showing Circe that heaven. Most of all, I was looking forward to the joy on her face when I asked her the one thing I’d been afraid to ask. Because of all the circumstances surrounding us the past few weeks, I’d decided that she was what I wanted in my life. She’s mine, and I won’t give her up. Knowing it in my heart that first day, it’s been the same every day. She consumes me.
“Has there been any changes?” Doll asks, knocking me out of my silent musings.
“Sorry, no. The doctor is still concerned with swelling. She’ll keep him in the coma for a few more days, I suppose.” The voice is elderly, kind sounding for sure, and soft, like what I’d expect a grandparent to sound like. It’s Margaret, my stand-in nurse when Sali is off.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” Feeling the blanket on the bed being moved up my body, someone tucks it under my arms. It’s odd in a way. After checking the IV line in my hand and puffing up the pillow a bit, they move away.
“No. I’m good, really.” Doll sounds so worn out and exhausted. “Whiskey went out to get me a jump bag full of things again today. If I find he packs like a man and forgets something crucial, again, I’ll reach out to you. Thanks.”
Hearing the lady leave, closing the door behind her, the chair beside the bed shifts, scraping across the floor. Flicking her shoes off, propping her legs on the side of the bed, I feel her slight weight relax against mine.
“Wyatt, I’ve had enough of this. This shit is getting fucking old, and you need to wake up.” Her cool feet rest up against mine as she tucks them under the light blankets. “I’m friggin’ twenty-one in a few weeks, and I’m not gonna take much more of you avoiding me. So...” With her soft voice cracking, choking on her words, she’s wipes tears away from her face. I know she’s reaching the end of her emotional patience. Doll doesn’t cry; she doesn’t do emotions. “Big brother, get your ass back to me so I can beat your lazy butt on the track.”
You bet your tiny little bumblebee ass I’ll beat you, kid. This is shit, and I’m fully bored of it too. Whiskey is so much older than her, and honestly, he’s more an uncle than a brother. Here I am, the one that she normally leans on, sitting in a drug-induced coma with no one else to help her cope. How is she keeping her calm and composed demeanour?
Skipping that thought, my mind drags me back to my Siren. I want to ask Doll about Circe. How is she? I know in my veins she was alive, barely, when I last saw her, but she was alive. That was before I passed out. Actually, I guess it wasn’t so much passed out as it was more died for a short period of time.
How is it she’s not here? She was beside me during all the craziness with Dad. Why isn’t she here now?
And really, how is Doll fairing? Is Whiskey helping her? Is he keeping her sane and busy, so that she has no time to realize how crappy this is? I hope to fuck he’s helping her. If not, I’m going to kick his ass when I wake the fuck up. We’ve had a shit run of luck in the past few months, and Doll’s been rather grown-up through the whole experience. I’ve heard Whiskey talking to me a few times, but it’s not really anything that could tell me how he’s helping, how he’s coping with this himself.
All of these thoughts swim like sharks in my mind. Dangerous, and not really accomplishing anything of real value. I guess I’ll just have to wait.
There’s more questions than answers, and no one can hear me.