It was only his second visit to this room and already he felt the need to take it all in and commit it to his memory.
His life was a complete mess at the moment, but he had to wade through it to get to the other side; the side that contained the goodness of life…the living part.
No matter how hard it gets, Elijah always told himself…
“At least you’re alive and well,” he mumbled, looking around the dreary room. He fell into a chair by the window and watched Emma’s sleeping form and the slow rise and fall of her chest.
Even if everything and everyone he knew and loved was suffering, he had to remind himself that he was okay; he was alive. Even when he felt dead inside.
He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the world’s problems on his shoulders and he was reminded of the other night. Those words, “You’re not Superman.”
“I’m not fucking Superman,” he muttered, letting his head rest in his hand.
A few seconds later, as if he sensed Elijah was in there, a doctor entered the room carrying a clipboard. “Hello,” he said pleasantly.
Elijah nodded at the older gentleman. The doctor had a very full head of gray hair and kind brown eyes that surveyed Elijah quizzically. The doctor was a bit portly, but in a way that suggested he was a football player in his youth.
“I’m Dr. West, and you are---?”
Elijah stood up and shook the doctor’s outstretched hand, “Elijah Wood.”
“Relationship to Miss Burns?”
“Friend, I guess,” he replied, shrugging.
The doctor watched him, his kind eyes boring into Elijah’s, “Okay. Does Miss Burns have any family?”
Elijah gestured to the clip board, “I’m guessing the information you want is in her chart.”
Dr. West smiled curtly, knowing the full life story of Emma Burns, but wanting Elijah to retell it to him. “Yes, yes, of course it is.”
Elijah shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his fingertips grasping the CD that lay there. His voice grew softer and his hard edge crumbled, “How is she?”
“Well,” Dr. West smiled, “I’m not supposed to say unless you’re family…but I suppose since she hasn’t got any family, that you’re close enough.” He waited for a response from Elijah, but Elijah’s face was stoic as he waited for the doctor to continue, “Miss Burns is expected to pull out all right. There is no brain damage thus far…and we were able to pump her stomach in ample time of her overdose. I expect a full recovery soon enough.”
Elijah’s eyes lit up, “Seriously?”
“I’m not joking, Mr. Wood,” chuckled Dr. West seemingly pleased that Elijah was so happy about the news.
Elijah smiled slightly, “Is she still in a coma, then?”
“No, no. She’s just asleep. She woke up yesterday for about five minutes. The nurse on duty said she didn‘t have much to say.” The doctor shrugged, “She’s overly tired. She overdosed quite a bit…” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “She’ll have to go back to the clinic once we release her.”
Elijah nodded, “Yeah, I figured. She’s supposed to go to her step-father’s trial next week…she needs to testify in order for him to get the best sentence possible…”
“So that he can stay out of jail?” Dr. West asked, writing something on his chart.
“No,” retorted Elijah firmly, “So he can stay IN.”
“Ah,” nodded the doctor, “I see.”
Elijah paused, collecting his thoughts. “Do you think she’ll be out by then?”
The doctor considered his chart briefly, “It’s hard to say. Depends on how things go today and tomorrow. We’re hoping to get her to stay awake for more than five minute intervals.”
“Oh,” replied Elijah in a deflated voice.
Dr. West stepped closer to Elijah and lowered his voice, “There is probably something you can do to speed up her recovery.”
Elijah stared back, “Yeah. What? Anything. I’ll try anything.”
The doctor smiled wanly and nodded, “I thought as much. Talk to her. See if you can help her out of it.”
Dr. West patted Elijah’s shoulder and then departed from the room; he left Elijah with more thoughts swimming through his brain than he’d had before.
Unanswered questions are pesky little buggers.
*
Three hours later, Elijah was sitting beside Emma’s bed with her fairly warm hand in his. She hadn’t woken up yet, but he’d been talking the entire time. His voice was croaky and strained; he was in desperate need of some herbal tea, but he didn’t want to leave the room for fear she’d awake and not see him.
Elijah’s eyelids were droopy when Emma’s were fluttering open. After a few seconds, she opened them completely and pulled her hand from his.
His head shot up and he stared at her in half fright, half excitement. “Emma,” he breathed, sounding relieved.
“Elijah?” Emma’s voice was even croakier than his.
His lips broke into a huge smile, “Yeah. I’m here.” Elijah shook his head, “Oh my God, Emma. I was so worried.”
She sat up a bit, “Were you,” she replied flatly.
“Yes! I was in a complete turmoil. They said you weren’t going to make it and I felt dead…”
“Did you get my letter?” She asked promptly.
Elijah’s eyes softened and his smile weakened, “Yeah, I did.”
“Huh,” she replied, not looking at him. She cleared her throat rather rashly and grabbed at the bedside table for a cup of water. She gulped it all down, but it was warm from sitting out for so long and it felt like slime going down her throat. Emma sputtered and wiped her mouth before sitting up even more.
“How do you feel?” He asked hesitantly.
“I’m okay,” was her firm reply.
“Good,” he said, still smiling a little even though it hurt him to. Elijah didn’t like the tone of her voice or the look in her eyes and he didn’t like her behavior. Where does she get off being mean to him when it was HER who tried to end her own life?
Emma finally let her eyes fall on his, “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Elijah leaned in closer, hardly believing his ears. “Sorry…sorry for what?”
“You know, Elijah, don’t play dumb.”
Elijah licked his lips in an attempt to avoid the question. She wasn’t paying attention, her thoughts were elsewhere and her eyes were on the wall behind him.
Emma’s eyes were becoming wet and her vision blurred, “I’m so sorry for everything. I…”
“Don’t…you don’t have to explain. It’s alright. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She nodded a little, wiping her eyes. Before she knew it, they were spilling over irrationally and her sheets were becoming soaked; then she was reaching for him and he was sitting on the side of her bed with his arms around her and she was soaking his shirt. He was whispering assurances into her ear, but she could barely hear over the sound of her heart wrenching sobs.