Call Me By My Name

Ch.8

Royale

Groggily waking up in a white sterile room with a female massaging my legs was not something I was prepared for. On pure reflex, my right foot connected to her jaw. I barely had any strength, but it was enough to have her groaning and cussing as she moved away from me. In my defense, I’ve never woken up to some strange woman rubbing on me.

After that awkward moment, she introduced herself as Mercy and explained the situation or the gist of it. My mind was a little foggy, but I understood enough. Before she could run out to get whoever she planned on getting, I asked for my phone and kept asking until she got the message.

Memories of what occurred before my blackout had already started creeping in. Before everything went completely downhill, I needed to talk to my son. When she rushed out, I was already preparing for how to get the hell out of here if she didn’t come back with my phone. I know I sound crazy; I don’t know where I am and barely have the strength to sit on my own, yet I was planning my escape. After all that happened, wouldn’t it be crazier if I didn’t?

Luckily, she came back and went straight to the drawer next to the bed. I waited for her to get out before turning the phone on. I had over twenty voicemails and messages from Atlas and Carla. I didn’t bother listening or reading any of them and just called. I can’t say I was surprised by Atlas’s antics.

I couldn’t tell him why I wasn’t home yet or why I wasn’t able to call him. All I could do was listen and promise to do my best to return in a few days top. It wasn’t enough but it was all I had at the moment. I barely got off the phone, let alone recover from Atlas’s rants before an older man barged in. He introduced himself as Doctor Engle and downhill we went.

By the time Doctor Engle and Nurse Mercy were done with me, I was more than drained. That was both mentally and physically. For some at-home medical wards, they were thorough. If the circumstances had allowed, I would have been geeked out by their exclusive medical technology. Unlike some regular emergency room visits, they got blood drawn, an MRI, a CT scan, and a bunch of unnecessary testing done in under an hour.

To hear the results and what could have occurred was a blessing and a nightmare I never wish to have. I was glad I was okay, that I survived the worse, but I wanted to go home and get the hell out of here. Hearing that I was fine was enough for me, everything else could be dealt with when I’m far and beyond this island and bxllshit it now holds. Yet, as the door opened and another man entered, I knew that wouldn’t be the case anytime soon.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Shane and I will be assisting you throughout this time.”

I shook the man’s hand before me. He was tall, dark, handsome, with rich chocolate brown eyes and skin with a muscular build, and a welcoming smile. In a different time, I would have been swayed. However, I only recently woke up from what I'd been told was a coma. My son had been furious as to why he hadn’t heard from me for the last two days. I can still remember the smoke and the sound of what seemed like bombs mixed with the voices of my parents and let’s not mention that I was having an internal mini-panic attack.

My ears were still ringing. My heart is stuck in my throat and my mind refuses to process much of anything. I can’t even say I was overthinking; the truth was, I only had my son and Dario in mind. I needed to hurry home; I was past the time I promised to return home.

“How are you doing, Ms. Denise?” The man spoke breaking me out of my thoughts. Taking the time to study him as he had been studying me, I could feel the unease that lay behind his words and stance. A lot was off, and it had nothing to do with me waking up from a two-day coma in a strange house with this stranger looming over me. I can somewhat understand it though, the doctor and nurse have slipped a few times throughout my checkup. Plus, I wasn’t as dense as I try to pretend to be.

“Ok, I suppose.”

“All cases considered.”

“Indeed. When can I check out?” Asking that had the man looking at me as if I had grown a second head. I pretended not to notice. I needed to get the hell out of here, but I had to remind myself of the situation that led me here to begin with. Before he could respond, I rerouted my question. I needed to be careful with how I proceeded.

“I would like to check on those impacted by the bombing and see how I could help.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“I can understand that. However, the doctor still needs to keep an eye on you to make sure there’s no underlying damage.” I nodded in understanding, but I wasn’t actually agreeing to stay here much longer. I was hoping he’d hurry up and get to the point, but I could see he wanted to drag this out and I didn’t have the patience for it.

“No disrespect, but we can get to the point. What is it exactly you’ll be assisting me through? If it’s my recovery, I can do so when I return to the States and if it’s to go over my recollection of what happened prior to now, I don’t have anything to report. I was outside when it all happened and have been there for most of the event.”

He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and finally took a sit on the chair next to the bed. As he started telling me what all happened, I finally understood why he felt the need to drag things out. In a way, I could appreciate the soft approach but it’s not a luxury I could afford. Not with all he had to say.

The news of my parent’s death didn’t hit me like the news of my grandparents, but I can’t say that anything as of yet was hitting quite right. I’m sure in due time it will. All that aside, I know for a fact Dario is not dead, and that Legend had nothing to do with it. However, seeing how hard this man was trying to get me to believe otherwise, I knew there was no other option but to go along with the theatrics.

I listened and listened until there was nothing else to listen to but my labored breathing. Yet, that wasn't enough. The stack of pictures of what were my parents, grandparents, and maybe of my brother tossed at me was what finished me. It’s safe to say that reality has finally sunken in. I’m not sure which one gave up first, between my head and my heart. Whichever did, made no difference as the darkness pulled me in. I tried fighting it for my son’s sake, but my body was already weakened; my mind and heart weren’t that far behind.

____

The days that followed could only be described as being on a high-speed train but somehow going in slow motion, stuck in a loop. A mindless loop. Encircled by cops, and random people I didn’t know from a can of paint talking about nothing made sense to me. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt such loneliness in my life.

When all was claimed to be over, I had nothing left in me. Other than the small human that called me mom pulling at my heartstring, my heart simply did its purpose of beating. Let’s not speak of my mind that succumbed to the emptiest and blackest corner it could muster. There were no feelings or thoughts, just blankness.

“Ms. Denise, may I have a word?”, too lost in the darkness of my mind, I failed to notice Shane sitting across from me. I wasn’t in the mood for talking or listening. I’ve had enough of both, though I’ve barely said much these past few days. Yet, I nodded for him to go on, hoping it’d be the last time I'd see this man and all that reminded me of.

“You’ve been cleared to leave, and your departure has been arranged for the morning. I know you said you didn’t want anything from the saved belongings, but it’s believed you should have these.” He handed me a shoe box, but I made to attempt to reach for it. He silently placed it on the bedside table all the while watching me.

I’ve been getting watched a lot lately. It was as if all those that came in near me were waiting for some grand reaction. Was it a breakdown or a breakthrough? Either way, I couldn’t muster up either. One solid panic attack was all I had in me and once that was over, I was back to being that empty shell Dario tried so hard to save me from becoming.

I couldn’t handle such thoughts. The desperate need for air was overwhelmingly suffocating. Absentmindedly, I made my way out to the balcony. The fresh air mixed with the smell of the ocean was welcoming but had me coughing as if I’d been deprived of air for far too long.

Once I got my bearings, I dropped onto the cold floor more drained than I'd been. There was nothing out here but the ocean breeze and a barely lit night sky, but that was enough. It was far better than being copped in a lightly lit room guarded by men. I was still guarded, but out here it felt temporary.

Still unable to think much of anything, but something about being out here brought out a small number of precious thoughts of my son and brother. I tried filling the darkness with those thoughts, tried pushing those images forth like a lifeline. For dear life, I grasped those memories, reminding myself that I still had a son to go home to and a brother to find. Not all was lost.

Over and over, I told myself that until sleep slowly pulled me under. Maybe it was my delusion and some need for comfort, but as the heaviness of sleep took over, I felt a familiar warmth. I didn’t want to know if my mind had broken to the point where I was conjuring such warmth or if it was truly so. The latter I wasn’t ready to face.

In the end, I cowardly tried to accept not knowing which was which. I reveled in the warmth because at the moment it was all that was keeping me intact. Especially not with the words that flowed through the night, seeping into my semi-conscious mind.

As whatever piece left of my heart died, there was no doubt this was real, but it was easier to pretend that it wasn't. That every word he spoke wasn't a dagger stabbing at my heart. Yet, I welcomed the warmth while welcoming the darkness and each word he spoke led me there. By the time he was done, I fully accepted this for what it was. A twisted dream.

“Sleep, my ciel étoile. It’s not worth much, but I am truly sorry. For that, I hope our paths never cross and that we’ll be nothing more to each other than a twisted dream. One that’ll eventually be forgotten or at least cast aside”