Sarah stood beside Jane's bedside, sullen and afraid. Her sister lie there motionless, unable to hear her voice or see the tender look of kinly concern on her face. Machines hissed and beeped around her in the dark with a cold deliberateness. Tubes and wires plugged into Jane's body keeping her alive, but tethered; a captive Lazarus. Her sister had surfaced in and out of waves of deep delirium for days now, and she lie there barely breathing as Sarah held her torpid hand. Oh Jane, she thought, just hold on. She remembered when they were girls and they'd gotten caught in a heavy autumn rain on the way home from the market late one afternoon. Janey just stood there smiling, her hair like a wet mop hanging heavy from her head as she began spinning in circles with outstretched arms. Why does everyone always run from the rain, she'd asked. It must be so lonesome to be a raindrop; falling, just falling with no one to catch you. All the puddles, just piles of fallen down raindrops. Sarah had been so short with her that day, calling her names and yelling at her to hurry up and get out of the storm. When Jane didn't walk fast enough Sarah told her she deserved to get sick. Two days later when Jane did get sick Sarah still felt she deserved it, but she couldn't help blame herself a little for wishing it on her. Out of guilt she made her tea and soup to help her shake the chill. In her memory she could still see little Janey's pale skin; her sickly blue lips and fingernails.
The door opened and an older nurse entered the room. Aww miss Sarah, I'd told ya it'd do ya good to get some rest now; ya heard me didn't cha dear, she said. She spoke with a Jamaican accent that Sarah found soothing. Nurse Lamb was in her early 40's and she had a matriarchal warmth and confidence about her that made Sarah feel at ease. I know, Sarah said, it's late. It's da witchin' hour, Nurse Lamb replied as she took Jane's pulse, looking at Sarah in a way that suggested she should take heed but at the same time maintaining a calm insouciance. It's not a time ya want ta find yarself weary, she added. My sister would've liked you Nurse Lamb. She has a thing with lambs, ruminants she calls them. Mmm hmm, dey're a sacred creature in many mythologies girlie. Nurse Lamb's eyes were always gentle yet focused and she had a grace and precision about her movements. Even the way she noted Jane's vitals on the clipboard evoked a calligrapher or a scribe. Before she had realized, Nurse Lamb had checked Jane's pulse and blood-pressure, taken her temperature, replaced the bag of fluids hanging at the top of Jane's bed and then sat down beside Sarah. With a smile she said, ya sistah's gonna be fine Miss Sarah, go get yarself some sleep. Jane's doing enough sleeping for the two of us, Sarah said. Nurse Lamb smiled, stood up and was gone.
She had a point, it was late. Sarah hadn't slept since she'd arrived back East. After the flight mixup, her broke-down car and the mad dash to the hospital, it had been well past a day since she'd slept. Maybe it was time to take a break, she thought; there's nothing I can do right now except wait. She got up, kissed Jane's clammy forehead and tucked her sheep under her sleepy arm. Outside it had started to rain and Sarah stood under a shelter designated for smoking near the exit of the hospital. It had been a while since she'd seen rain like this. On the West Coast the rain falls gently, like cats. Not like the dogs she saw coming down now. Everything felt heavier here, she thought. Since I've landed it's like gravity wants to get to know me better, hanging off my shoulders pulling me to the ground to say hello. I don't want to be your friend, she said aloud.
Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, said a voice emerging from the shadows. Startled, Jane turned toward the voice and saw an elderly man deeply inhaling a cigarette that glowed red as he pulled the air through it. When he exhaled his face was covered in a thick fog that never seemed to completely clear. His feet shuffled awkwardly as he said he was just leaving. Oh, no, I'm sorry, I wasn't talking to you; I didn't even know you were there, Sarah said. That's quite all right, I'm leaving just the same, the man said. Sarah still hadn't been able to get a look at his face even though he stood only a few feet from her. She could see his shoes as he shifted his feet. They were pointy and hissed as they moved across the concrete. At the tip they were red and glimmered like rubies. The rest of the shoe seemed to be a snakeskin that shined luridly even in the night. The rain made them glisten as though they were alive. He made Sarah feel a strange repulsion, like magnets turned the wrong way.
His shoes clacked loudly against the concrete as he walked away. Sarah watched him turn and slowly walk out toward the parking lot, without an umbrella or a proper coat. She thought it was strange that he moved so nonchalantly. What a creepy guy, she thought. Just then he seemed to stop. Sarah couldn't tell for sure because of the rain and the distance, but it looked like he had stopped moving. Was he facing her? No, he couldn't be. Why would he be? Sarah laughed and thought about the absurdity of the question. He probably dropped something, or realized he'd forgotten something. It had been more than a few seconds and he still hadn't moved. A discomfort moved in on her like an unwanted embrace. Looking out in the distance she saw the deep red glow of his cigarette and she realized he was facing her. Her heart struck like lightning. Alone in the smoking booth she felt scared and vulnerable. The dense smoke from his cigarette still hung around her and wouldn't leave. She reached into her purse to call her mother - thinking that might scare him off - and when she looked up he was gone.
It began raining harder, sounding like television static as it hit the ground. Ok, I think I'm ready for bed, Sarah said.
No comments:
Post a Comment