Page 86 of Mortala
At her silence, the doc writes a few things on the notepad she brought with her and asks follow up questions.
"Do you know where you are?"
Nothing.
"Can you tell me how you’re feeling?"
Nothing.
"Did something happen at home that you're afraid to talk about?"
Nothing.
"Does anyone in your home make you feel unsafe?"
Every question goes unanswered.Just as I go to step away from the counter, Sadie tilts her head and hits me with the deadest pair of blue eyes.
"Miss Wilson?"The doc attempts to get her attention then glances at me for a second.
"Does he make you feel unsafe?"
Uncomfortable, and ticked off, I keep quiet.Does she really feel that way?Maybe trying to leave because I can recognize how unstable we are together is exactly what she's finally noticed.I've...I've not hurt her, not in ways she didn't like.The...I...
"Sunshine?"The endearment burns when I speak.
I'm at her side in a few strides, pulling my seat closer to the bed as I sit and claim her hand once more.
"Whatever you're afraid to say, you can tell her.It will stay between the three of us.She needs to know, so we can get you the right kind of help."
A slight bit of hope bursts in my chest when she doesn't look away.She's here.Not the voices or the hallucinations.No anger or confusion.Just Sadie and her cautious stare that snaps from one of my facial features to the next.
I'm sure I look like hammered shit.Hair's a mess from my fingers running through it every ten minutes, can't remember the last time I shaved—could make a caveman jealous—and my clothes?Well, they need to be run through the dryer a few times before the wrinkles become permanent.Even so, she steadily looks at me as if I have all the answers.
Without thinking, I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her chilled knuckles."Let her have it, Sunshine."
I give a weak smile for encouragement.Patient as ever, the doc fades into existence, not interrupting my girl and I.Now that I think about it, she's the only one who's seen us together—a privilege, because there's not a soul on this rock I want to share our life with.
"Okay," she whispers.
The doc perks up."Miss Wilson?"
The formality grates my nerves, but I'll let it slide if it means this process moves forward.
Sadie's chest deflates as if it's painful to exhale.Like the soldier she is, her head turns and tilts back to the bed where she stares at the ceiling again.
"Yeah, I...I'm here."
"I'm glad.Let's start over, shall we?Do you know where you're at and why you're here?"
"Hospital," Sadie utters."Can't remember."
"Is that normal for you, to not remember certain things?"
As quick as she opens up, she shuts down again.We both look her way when a flush carves its way into every feature and hides between the words she refuses to say.For most of her life, she's known there's something inherently different about her—something she hates.Living too many of her short years viewed by others as abnormal, all while she forced herself to accept what she sees in the mirror.But when Sadie walks out the door, she pulls down a heavy mask so well painted most people don’t realize she’s still different.When her illness is pointed out, that’s when she becomes embarrassed and her self-hatred rears its ugly head.
"Hey..."I tug her hand gently."Look at me."
Sadie sighs exasperatedly, but turns my way anyway.
