The Death Clock: chapter 6

 

6

I woke up in a white bed. Several doctors crowded around the bed, quietly talking amongst themselves. I thought I had died. I even remember an angel. So why was I here?

"The patient is a white Caucasian. No dental records, birth records or ID. The closest thing to a name we have is Isaac. Appears the patient has OCD, which is why he couldn’t stop washing his hands. It would seem that an April fool’s joke took an unexpected turn. The neighbor had switched the hot and cold water, to get back at her for freezing his last year. The boy is lucky his girlfriend found him. Now he’ll have at least one working hand."

"-friend. She’s not-," I was raked with coughing. When they subsided, I tried to continue, "She’s not my girlfriend." I said everything just above a whisper.

"He’s awake. Kid you need to tell us, what’s your name? Who’re your parents?" the doctors questioned as I could obviously speak for myself now.

"Isaac. Just Isaac. Both my parents are dead. Cat is not my girlfriend. We just live together. She took me in. But we’re just friends. There’s nothing between us."

"Son, that’s the biggest nothing I ever saw. That girl hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. Your recovery was slow. We called in the finest burn doctors in the world. At her request. She’s paying for all this, over a nothing? Not a chance son. Thanks to that girl, your stay here has been half of what it should have been.

"You fell into a three week coma after arriving, the pain being too much for your body to handle. It was surprising you woke from it at all. Collectively, adding up your coma, multiple surgeries, and the fact that you’ve been in a tranquilized induced sleep during much of your stay, you’ve been here nearly four months. Every day was touch-and-go. But that kid never gave up on you," he checked his watch, "Gentlemen, it would be best to leave young Isaac to himself."

As soon as the doctors left, Cat ran over to me. She wore a big grin on her face. When she saw the bandages, her smile wavered. She hovered near me and just looked so happy to see me awake.

I sat up to the best of my near crippled ability. I waved her closer, as if to tell her something of great importance. When she leaned in, I waved again. This time as she got closer to my bandaged right side, my arm flew around her neck. I hugged her fiercely. I hugged her until I couldn’t stand the pain of moving.

"Can *cough cough* you get me home? I want to go back to your… Our home." I smiled faintly at her.

"I’ll try. I’ll try, Isaac. I missed you so much. For now on, you’ll be on a leash. I don’t want to lose you again." Cat cried. She was thinner, starved. I doubt she had ate much. First thing would be making her better.

Visiting hours ended at nine. The doctors let Cat stay, at my request. I hadn’t been awake in four months. When Cat thought I was asleep, she started to pace the room for a while. She was dangerously thin, like a stray dog that only got scraps every other week. Though she was thinner, she was also taller.

Cat was about two inches taller than when I last saw her. Her hair was longer, she wore it loose, and it went over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes had multiple bags, flawing her clear skin. The only thing more painful than the burns was seeing her like this.

Cat came back over and sat next to me, her arm on the heavy casts that covered my entire arm. The splashing of the water must have burned my arms. I made myself a promise after she fell asleep. A promise that I would always get better, as long as Cat wanted me to. Nothing would stop me from seeing Cat happy.

A week later, I was permitted to leave. I had gone through three more surgeries but the doctors still said not to use my left hand too much. The nerves in my right had been saved but my left hand was shot. They did skin grafts to replace much of the damaged skin on my hands. I thought about how close I came to having no hands at all during the walk back to our home. I wouldn’t be able to write much for a while. I had a tendency to write left-handed, though everything else used my right.

The doctor told me to just sit around and rest up, practicing using my hands for an hour each day. They told Cat to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn’t ruin my hands by using them too much.

We were sitting in my room, Cat, and me on the large bed. She was trying to teach me to write again. My left hand was in a cast so I had to write right-handed. My ability to write at all was crappy; I never did go to school. So we were writing simple things. Cat’s name and mine. The top of the paper was covered in a messy, tightly written mash of squiggles. As you read down the page, it slowly started to resemble letters. I just finished writing Cat’s full name for the twentieth time when I had to ask her.

"Cat, do you like me?"

"Of course I like you. You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t have gotten you all this and helped you get better if I didn’t, silly." She said, in a what-a-stupid-question tone.

But that’s not what I had meant. "I know you like me, Cat. I was wondering if you like-liked me. Do you?"

She quickly looked away. I could tell that she was blushing from the way she hunched her shoulders near her head and let her hair cover her face. That doctor must have been right.

I put one hand on her shoulder and brought her closer in a one-armed hug. She still didn’t look at me, but I could tell she was still blushing. I smiled into her hair as I bent my head down to look at her face.

I brushed the hair away from her eyes. She looked shyly away. All she would do was turn her head to the side, so I whispered in her ear.

"It’s okay. I like you, too. A lot, Cat. I don’t want to have to leave you again. Never again."

Cat turned to me and smiled. She put her arms around me, in a hug that was different from the others. This hug had feeling in it, feeling that could be felt and made me feel light. I put my arm around her, careful of the damaged hand. Cat looked me in the eyes and I felt a hundred times better. There no longer was sadness in her deep blue eyes.

"Does that promise still stand, Isaac?" I knew exactly what promise it was. The promise to do whatever she wanted me to, as long as I physically could.

"Of course it does. What do you want?"

"Just a kiss," Cat leaned in towards me and gave me a kiss. Her lips were soft and I could taste her lipstick. It was her favorite fruit, of course. I started to like passion fruit a lot more. I kissed Cat back gently putting my lips to hers.

It was my first kiss. Living on the streets, I had tended to avoid contact with anyone. I was reasonably sure it was Cat’s first kiss; she was so unsure of herself, changing the way she kissed me repeatedly.

Afterwards, Cat sidled up next to me. She sat on my left so that I could move my good arm. She insisted on getting me to write better that night. I held Cat close with my cast arm. I held her small body next to mine feeling the warmth of her body through my clothes.

She taught me until late in the night. Cat fell asleep next to me, lying on the bed with her head on my arm.
I lifted her head and laid it on the single pillow. I covered her tiny frame with the heavy blanket. I fell asleep next to her, giving her the entire blanket. I fell asleep with a smile, still tasting her fruity lipstick.