Comfort & Joy

Behind me, the door opens again. Footsteps move haltingly toward me.

It’s Bobby. Thank God.

I feel a rush of sweet relief. He’s knows I didn’t leave him. I’m fine. Fine. In my head, the protestation is vibrant and clear, but the sound that issues from my cracked, dry lips is barely a whisper and even that useless sound tires me. Instead, I try to lift my hand to show how fine I am.

“Joy?”

It’s the wrong voice; not a boy’s. It takes forever for me to turn my head, and when I do, the pillow puffs up around my face, blocking the view from my left eye.

I can see well enough, though.

She looks smaller, somehow, like a pencil that’s been used down to the nub. Her eyes are swollen and red; there’s no mistaking the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Stacey.

I don’t understand. How is she here? How did she find me?

“Wha . . . here?”

She leans close, pushing the damp hair from my eyes. Her touch is quick, as if she’s not sure it will be welcomed. Almost before I feel it, she draws back. “I was so scared. ”

“How” did you “fin . . . ” me?

I can see her answering me, but there’s something wrong. I can’t hear over the buzzing in my ears. My head is pounding, too. I want to ask her where Bobby and Daniel are, but my voice is turning against me. All that comes out is, “Where?”

“They airlifted you to Bakersfield. You’re home. ”

“Home?” The word comes out sounding cracked. I don’t understand. It’s Christmas “Eve?”

“No, I’m sorry. I know how much you love the holidays. ”

What “Day?”

“It’s the thirtieth. You’ve had a rough two weeks, but the doctors think you’re going to be okay now. ”

Her words scatter like BBs on a kitchen table; it’s impossible to grasp them all at once.

“Daniel?”

Stacey frowns. “Do you understand me, Joy? You were in a plane crash, remember? The firemen rescued you moments before it exploded. The doctors said you might have trouble with your memory. ”

Rescued you. Firemen.

But I walked away from the crash, left my tattered life behind in the wreckage and went on an adventure. If anyone rescued me, it was Bobby and Daniel. I want to shake my head in denial, but I can’t seem to move. “No. ”

“You were in a medically induced coma for almost ten days. Because of a head injury. ”

Head injury.

It steals over me like a cold shadow, the meaning of her words. She’s saying I’ve been here, in this hospital bed, since the crash.

I don’t understand. Why would she lie to me? Because I ran away, because I let her think I was dead?

“Joy? What do you remember?”

Daniel and Bobby . . .

Walking away . . .