Quarter After Twelve
Chapter Thirteen: Enjoy Every Sandwich
Christine had climbed out of the shower when she noticed the lightbulbs over the vanity mirror began flickering, although she knew full well that a thunderstorm was nowhere to be found around there. She wrapped the towel around her body and held still on the rug for a moment: she kept her gaze fixed on the mirrorās reflection, at her own bare breasts and wet hair sprawled over her shoulders. There were times in which she wondered if she and John could be something more than best friends, but he had his girlfriend, even if she lacked the energy to come and visit him in the hospital, in his mode of recovery after everything.
The lights flickered again, and that time, she frowned.
Not a pulse of thunder to be heard outside of her place as she continued to dry herself off. A quick change of clean underwear followed by her white camisole and her pajama bottoms, and then he headed out of there and into the living room for something to drink before she headed off to bed. She was unable to visit John in the last two days, whereby she had called him in his room and told him about it, though she vowed to visit him first thing the next morning. Nevertheless, she still sighed through nose and hung her head a bit when she thought about it. If nothing else, she wanted her best friend to be comfortable in his time of need, and she knew his comfort depended upon her.
Before she switched on the kitchen light, something outside of her window caught her attention. Christine stopped and peered outside, whereby she gaped at the colorful sky overhead, at the thick veil of pink, violet, and green as it streaked across the sky. She had always wanted to see the northern lights, but on a planned trip to Alaska from the inside of a yurt meant for that not from the kitchen window of her apartment.
It was the second night in a row she had witnessed the northern lights in all their bright and vivid fashion, and the third night in a row she wondered if John was able to view them from his hospital bed. Those bright fluorescent lights over him bled into their colors, and he had too much of a reflection from the windowpane: she still kept the question tucked in the back of her mind as she drank down her cup of ginger tea and then returned to her bedroom for the night.
Christine awoke the next morning, whereby she beheld the sight of the wet moon filtering through the blinds in her window. Still plenty early, and thus, plenty of time to ready herself: her hair was still damp from the shower the night before, and her skin stayed soft and silken. Healthy and pristine in the face of Johnās injuries and hard surgeries, and yet she neednāt let herself feel guilty for it. She was healthy, and John could find solace in her.
She ran her hairbrush through her hair and spritzed some perfume onto the side of her neck as well as her wrists. She decided to stay in her white camisole, albeit with her bra on underneath: she changed out of her pajamas into clean pressed blue jeans followed by her black Chuck Taylors.
It was a warm morning, warm even with the night still holding on for a few more minutes. When she locked her front door and headed for her car with her purse over her shoulder, she took a glance up at the moon again, at the crescent shape at its nearly off-kilter position as it loomed near the zenith of the sky. At least the sky itself had calmed down and darkened into a rich navy color to indicate the arrival of the new morning: there was still something bizarre about it all, however. There was something she couldnāt quite explain as she slid into the driverās seat and drove to the hospital, but she had remembered her promise to him from the few days before, and she stopped at the market down the street from her to swipe a couple of croissant breakfast sandwiches, one for herself and one for him, as well as a glass bottle of root beer.
The outside lights stayed illuminated despite the incoming dawn, but the few people congregated in the front lobby told her that visiting hours were beginning. A chill in the air in turn sent a chill down her spine as she climbed out: a strange contrast from the warmth of the waning night remaining over her head and shoulders.
Christine padded through the hospital doors, right as a nurse wrapped in pale blue scrubs hurried to help someone on a stretcher down the corridor: she walked past to find the man was as white as a sheet and covered in what appeared to be cat scratches. Bloodied foam oozed out from the corners of his mouth, such that she shuddered to think what had happened to him during the night.
She remembered the room number and, keeping the sandwiches and the glass bottle out of sight, she reached the darkened door frame: the silhouette of his head emerged out from the face of the pillow and she caught a glimmer of the whites of his eyes. She lightly knocked on the side, and he rolled his head over to see her through the shadows.
āHey, sleepyhead,ā she greeted him, and he cracked a smile at her through the veil of morphine and gauze upon his head. Gingerly, he hoisted himself up onto his elbows and then leaned back against the pillows. His eyes fluttered a bit all the while: it was only him in there, and thus, she doubled back to turn on the lights. He pinched his eyes shut and gently shook his head.
Christine handed him one of the sandwiches before she sat down next to him.
āOh, thank you,ā he stated in a soft voice. His breath smelled as if he had just woken up; with the sandwich on his lap, he reached to his left for the bedside table, for his daily dose of medicine as well as a big drink of water. He licked his lips as he set down the paper cup and turned his attention to the sandwich on his lap.
āI am so hungry,ā he confessed to her. āThis hospital food gets so unsavory after a couple of days. Itās nice to have some stuff from the outside, especially these.ā
āI also got you this,ā Christine said, and she set the bottle of soda on the bedside table, and his face lit up at the sight of it.
āOh, you remembered,ā he decreed as he unwrapped his sandwich. He held the edge of the croissant up to his nose for a whiff of the puff pastry as well as the melted cheese and the warm smoked sliced ham within.
āOf course! I wasnāt able to come here the last couple of days, so I had to make it up to you somehow.ā She unwrapped her sandwich as well and took a bite. The cheese was lush and the ham tasted peppery and decadent; the pastry meanwhile maintained its butter but she could tell that it had been in the oven for a touch too long. Nevertheless, she was more than willing to have it before her cup of coffee come the rays of sunlight.
It was then she remembered.
āOh, have you seen the northern lights as of late?ā she asked him in a low voice.
āI have, yes!ā he replied, and his eyes lit up with intrigue. āIn fact, I was woken up late last night, the power went out. I woke up and it was hotter than hell in here. I rang in the nurse and asked her to open the window and she couldnāt. As she was trying to do that, we happened to look outside and saw them happening out there, this big veil of pink and green up in the sky.ā
āIāve always wanted to see them,ā Christine admitted to him. āBut I wanted to save money for a trip up to Anchorage so we could see them, not from our front window, though.ā
āRight? The nurse and I looked at each other, and she told me it was like the third or fourth time in three weeks sheād been able to see the northern lights. Itās so weird.ā
They fell back into momentary silence, with Christine keeping her gaze fixed on the hourglass shape of the glass bottle next to her. Embedded in the glass itself, she made out the faint shape of her own reflection in the grains and the grooves. She knew that it was too early for soda, but Johnās body clock had fallen about as off-kilter as the moon, and thus, he could have it while she fetched a cup of coffee for herself.
Meanwhile, John himself had nearly finished his sandwich when he cleared his throat and turned to her again.
āWhen I get out of here, I want to go and find some books,ā he suggested.
āWhat kind of books?ā she asked him.
āEarth science,ā he answered. āIāve been seeing the sunsets every night since Iāve been here, and thereās something really unnerving about them. Theyāve been weirdly gray and yellow as of late, as if something is affecting them all. Plus, we have the northern lights happening as of late, andā¦ another thing Iāve been noticing is the sun and how weirdly bright itās been in junction with the northern lights, too. I donāt know if itās the morphine and the painkillers talking but something about it is telling me that it had to do with whatās going on with the sun right now.ā He rubbed his good eye with the side of his free hand. āIt could just be the morphine talking but something about this is calling me to the sun, though.ā
āWhen are you getting out of here, anyway?ā she asked him.
āWell, I get the gauze off my head today,ā he replied as he tucked the final bite of sandwich into his mouth. He brought a hand up so she wouldnāt have to see his mouth full; āwhich is good because this thing is starting to itch. And then I go into physical therapy after that. If Iām doing good, I get to go home tomorrow at the earliestāthat is if I can keep my balance.ā
āAnd if you canāt?ā she asked him as she took another bite as well.
āI donāt know,ā he admitted with a shake of his head and a swallowing of the final bite. āThis thing was only in one spot but it affected my whole brain, and because Iāve been in bed and soaked in painkillers for three days, I need to get my strength back. Soā¦ I guess itās kind of a good thing that I havenāt been able to eat that much.ā He chuckled at that, albeit a gloomy one. āThe nurses didnāt want me to eat too much, anyway. They told me itād overwhelm my system, especially with morphine in me.ā
It was right then a gray swollen nurse padded into the room and took his vitals, though she was not as friendly or warm as the other one whole Christine had encountered on his first day there in the hospital.
āAre you picking him up?ā she demanded to Christine in a terse tone. Confused, Christine and John glanced at each other.
āWhat do you mean?ā she asked.
āToday? Are you picking him up?ā
āYou said tomorrow,ā she recalled to John in a low voice.
āI-I couldāve sworn it was tomorrow,ā he stammered, and he turned to the nurse, bewildered. āI thought I was going to get this off today.ā He gestured to the gauze wrapped around his head. āAnd then I was going to go to therapy to help get my strength back.ā
āYouāre getting the gauze off in about thirty minutes, but then you go home after that,ā she stated. āYour insurance wonāt cover for physical therapy.ā
Christine and John gaped at one another.
āAre you sure?ā she asked.
āAs sure as anything, sweetie,ā the nurse spat, which in turn made John wrinkle his nose at her. She flounced out of the room, which in turn left them alone again.
āWhat the fuck was that all about?ā Christine demanded, offended.
āInsurance wonāt cover for therapy,ā John said in a low voice. He shook his head. āCould I at least get a cane or something?ā
āJohnny, I will carry you out to the car if I have to,ā she promised him as she picked up the bottle of root beer and pried off the cap. She handed him the bottle, and he took it by the curved bottom and held the spout to his lips for a sip. She stood up and padded over to the doorway. āIām gonna get some coffee, Iāll be right back.ā
āIāll be here,ā he promised her.
She returned to him with a look of determination on her face. āIāll teach myself how to help you,ā she vowed to him. āWeāll go to California and Iāll do that on my own. How hard can it be?ā
āThe million dollar question,ā he said with another sip of root beer and a wink at her with his good eye. If nothing else, she could be his nurse.
His nurse as well as his best friend, especially under the realm of the northern lights.
