“You promise?”
I can hear the fear in Bobby’s voice, and in the sound, I make sense of it all. That’s been Bobby’s fear all along. That he would be alone. It was the same fear that caused me to board the airplane bound for Hope.
“I promise. ”
I lean forward. It is as much movement as I can make. “Believe in me,” I say desperately, willing them to see with their hearts. I focus all my mind on it, thinking over and over again: Believe.
The effort takes everything I have. When I’m done, I can hardly breathe. I feel my heartbeat speed up again. The world starts to go fuzzy and out of focus.
I am fading.
Fading.
I reach out for something to hold on to.
There’s nothing. I close my eyes and scream: No!
When I open my eyes again, I see bright white lights. A nurse is standing by my bed. It is the woman I “met” at the doctor’s office in my dream.
“How are we today?” she asks in her completely familiar voice.
“I’m fine,” I manage, closing my eyes again. I try to find my way back to the rainforest, but, this time, all I see is darkness.
I want to be on the drugs again.
Instead, I am fully awake now, and sitting up in bed. There are so many people clustered around me that I can’t see the walls behind them. A sheen of light hugs the ceiling, coming from a window I can’t see.
I find myself listening for the rain.
But I am in Bakersfield now; it’s the thirty-first of December, and the sun is shining outside.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Tell me again. ”
The people gathered around me frown. I recognize all of them. There’s Stacey, of course. She hasn’t left the room since I woke up, except to go out for food or—no doubt—to call Thom. And the nurse I saw in my dream. She’s the day nurse who has been taking care of me. The ruddy-faced man from church is the orthopedist who put my right leg back together. Apparently I’m held together by a titanium pin of some kind. This is more than I can say for my mind, which is held together lately by nothing. The gas station guy is my cardiologist; he brought me back to life, though the real credit goes to a man and boy who probably don’t exist.
“Your right leg was broken just below the knee. And your concussion was quite severe. We worried about swelling of the brain for several days,” says the gas station attendant, whom I now have to start calling Dr. Saunders.
I want to make a joke about having a bigger brain, but words fail me.
“With a little physical therapy, you’ll be fine,” my sister says. The council nods in unison like bobbleheads in the backseat of a car.
“Can I still ice skate?” I ask, although I haven’t ice skated since Melinda Carter’s ninth birthday party.
Dr. Saunders frowns. This is a question he didn’t anticipate. “In time, certainly, but . . . ”
“Never mind. ” I try to smile. “When can I go home?”
The head bobbing starts again. This is a question they like. “You’ll have to take it easy for a while,” says Dr. Saunders.
I look down at my casted right leg. No kidding.
“But if you’re careful, and barring any unforeseen complications, we think you can go home in a few days. ”
I want to smile for them. I really do. I know how hard they have all worked to help me so that I can go home.
Alone. “That’s great. ”
I see how Stacey looks at me. She knows what I’m thinking. It is a bond that has been in place a long time, and apparently neither anger nor betrayal can break it.