Sandy was driving. The traffic light was green. Everything is quiet. We’re not moving. We must have had an accident. I can’t open my eyes or extend my arms, or move anything. I feel nothing. I hear nothing. I only have my thoughts. What happened to me?
“Any signs at all?” Sandy asks the nurse.
“No Ms. The EEG is normal: activity, sleep, dream … but his body is not responsive.”
Sandy enters the room and sits by the body. She puts her purse on the edge of the bed and she ignores that it falls on the floor.
“I’m so sorry sweetie!” She says, choked up in tears, “I’m so sorry.”
She holds his hand; it feels relaxed and warm enough. The EEG shows no difference as she talks to him.
“Randy … It’s me, your sandy beach! You must think I’m a bitch! That truck came out of nowhere. I tried to turn away. It was too late. By the time … You must believe me. Please forgive me.”
“He can’t hear you. See the EEG isn’t reacting to your words. He is in his own world.”
“He’s gotta come back to me.”
The nurse leaves shaking her head.
Sandy looks around and slips her hand under the sheet, finds the top of his thigh and tries to arouse him.
“Randy … remember … you used to like this.”
(soon to be published in a collection of shorts called CONSTELLATIONS)