In Sight of Stars(6)

“Klee! I don’t want to fight over this anymore.”

I follow her into the foyer to argue, but she yanks on her coat and bangs the door shut after her.

*

“Klee?”

Long e, then whispering.

“Klee!” Same voice. Corrected, long a.

I blink my eyes open.

I’m back in my room, in bed. My new room in the Ape Can, anyway.

“How are you feeling, hon?”

There’s a cold cloth on my head. Dr. Alvarez’s face looms over me.

“You fainted, that’s all. No big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll leave you here with Carole, now. I have another patient…” A blond nurse smiles down at me. “We’ll pick up fresh tomorrow. By then, Dr. Ram will have come by.”

I nod. The fountain comes back to me, the girl with the black hair, the rush of snow swirling down.

How’d I get back in here?

An orderly. He stands near the door. Burly. Strong. “All good now?” he asks. “I can go?”

Carole nods, and he leaves. She stays, hovering over me. “Can you sit up, hon?” Her aqua scrubs with butterflies hurt my eyes. Worse than the cartoon fish.

“Okay, Klee, you’re in good hands here,” Dr. Alvarez says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She squeezes my foot and leaves. Nurse Carole pulls a rolling bedside table over, and I sit up against the prop of pillows she’s situated behind me.

“Well, you look much better now! That’s the way.” Her voice matches the butterflies, overbright and cheerful, like I’m a child. She slides a food tray over to me. “How about some lunch? If you eat something, it might help.”

The tray is the plastic cafeteria kind, a weird salmon color with white speckles. On it is a plate with one of those flat-topped domes covering it—both plastic, the lid, beige with a hole in the center. She lifts it to reveal a sandwich on white bread. Next to that, there’s a small paper cup with orange juice, a piece of cling wrap stretched across its top.

“No glass or utensils for obvious reasons,” the crow mocks just out of sight.

I’m not suicidal, I want to snap. I’m not a danger to myself or others. I’ve heard them say that, but it’s the part nobody understands. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just wasn’t thinking straight. I shouldn’t be here. I can go home now.

But I don’t actually want to go home.

I focus on the tray. Next to the juice cup is a smaller paper cup, pleated, white, holding a bunch of pills. I grimace. Something yellow oozes out of the sandwich. Something I’m dreading might be egg salad. A wave of nausea rolls through me at the smell.

Nurse Carole wrinkles her nose. “Don’t like egg salad? I can get you something else … You really should try to eat something. According to your chart, you haven’t eaten much since you got here, and Dr. Alvarez says you’re having some trouble with your meds. Trust me, you’ll feel a whole lot better if you have some food in you. It’s hard to handle all that,” she nods at the little cup full of pills, “on an empty stomach. Those antipsychotics can wreak havoc your system.”

Antipsychotics? What the fuck?

It’s okay, I say anyway. I’ll eat it.

She tilts her chin and offers the too-cheerful smile again. “Do you want me to scrounge you up something else for lunch?”

No. It’s fine.

“Okay, good. Before I go—” She glances at her watch, takes my wrist in her hand, and feels for my pulse with her fingers. She presses her lips to indicate I should stay quiet, counts to herself, and drops my arm. “Pulse is good. You feeling better now? Dr. Ram should be in to see you soon.”

Yes. Okay.

“Anything else you need before I go?”

No, thanks.

“Books? Magazines?”

Sarah struts across the rocky ledge, stops, posing topless, in just her underpants.

“You think I could be in a magazine, Klee?”

I nod and pull her to me …

“You do know there’s a whole library down the hall? Has anyone shown you around this place properly? You’re welcome to go in and borrow anything we have. You might even find some company in there.”

“Give it up, Klee.” The crow waggles a wing from the windowsill. The memory of Sarah is gone.

I think I’m good for right now.

“Okay, I get it,” Nurse Carole says. “But in case you do—” she gestures at the far wall as if I can see through it—“it’s just a few doors down on your right. There are puzzles and games in there, too.” I nod. I have a vague recollection of someone pointing it out as they shuffled me down the hall. “Anyway, holler if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll be back later. And, eat.”

I will.

“Oh, you need to take these before I go.” She rattles the small cup at me, and I frown. I’m still feeling fuzzy and out of it. “Don’t worry, hon. One is just an antibiotic for the wound. That one you’ll take twice a day. And that other long capsule there? That’s just plain old vitamin E. Omega 3. Like fish oil, you know? They’ve done more and more studies on the benefits of it.”

I’m grateful for the information, but, really, at this point, what do I care? I dump them into my mouth and swallow.