hops off the bed and wraps his fingers around the two handles at my back. I want to decline his offer for help because Mikey is the one who truly needs the support right now, but the truth is, I know I won’t be able to make it down the hall without some assistance. I won’t even be able to make it to the doorway. “What room, Mags?”
“319.”
He throws a glance toward Mikey. “Don’t go anywhere, buddy. I’ll be right back.”
***
“What are these?” I pull myself up from the chair and collapse onto the bed, grateful for the opportunity to rest, even if the sheets are impossibly starchy and the pillows feel more plastic than cotton. A bouquet of five balloons flutters under the ceiling vent: four colored ones and a single, yellow Mylar balloon with an enormous smiley face printed across its front.
I’ve been in the hospital less than a day, and though I do have a few friends back at college, I definitely don’t have the entourage my little brother boasts. I’m not even sure anyone knows I’m here. And if I did have any visitors, I think I’d probably send them Mikey’s way, because it feels wrong to have any sort of attention given the circumstances.
The nurse (still not an attractive one) at the foot of my bed thumbs through my chart. “Not sure. They were left at the front desk for you.” She paces toward me and lifts a small card from the envelope that’s taped to a weight at the bottom of the balloon arrangement. “Here.” She deposits it in my lap. “Need anything else?”
I bite my lip and flip the card over in my hands. “No, thank you. I’m good for now.”
“Okay.” She leans across my body to point to a button on the side rail, and I have to hold my breath because she bathed in perfume this morning instead of water. My eyes burn from the floral stench. “Just push this if you need something and we’ll send someone in.”
“Thank you.” I say again, more as a “good-bye” than a real statement of appreciation. I’m ready for some solitude. And some breathable air.
The nurse slips into the hallway and the door swings shut behind her.
Lifting the card from the blankets, I rotate it over in my palm. Maggie, it reads on one side in a handwriting that is unfamiliar to me. I quickly flip it over, eager to see the rest of the inscription.
You said you like balloons, and that you like my face.
Though this obviously isn’t a picture of my face,
it’s pretty much how it looked when you said that you
also like my lips (right before you blacked out.)
Hope your leg heals quickly.
-Ran
My head goes dizzy and I have to re-read the note to make sure I got it right the first time. With tingling fingers, I trace each word with my nail, stopping at the end where he penned his name, Ran. The yellow smiley face above me sways side to side under the gusts of air from the vent, like it’s dancing with the other balloons.
I told him I liked his lips? Seriously, what did they give me in that ambulance? Truth serum?
“Found out it’s from one of the paramedics our hospital contracts with,” my nurse says as she bounds back into my room without any knock. It’s strange because she never looks at me when she speaks, like she’s too busy to be bothered with actually nursing me to health. But the fact that she came back to deliver this information makes me think she must be invested somehow. Maybe it’s just the paycheck that motivates her. “From one of the guys that delivered you to us last night.”
I nod my head, thumbing the paper card. I know who they’re from, I just don’t get why he would send them to me.
“Have you had anything to eat today?”
“Diet Coke.”
“Diet Coke is not a food. And it’s not something you should be consuming right now. I’ll send in a tray of liquids for you.”
She sashays out the room and the smiley balloon bobs against the wall from the added rush of air.
Ran.
I keep the notecard in my grip and slide further down under the covers. My head feels foggy with sleep and the deadened sensation in my leg slowly wanes, hints of pain rising just under the surface of my bandages. I clench my fist to endure it, but only my right one, careful not to crumple what’s wrapped