The beeping woke me. I tried to open my eyes, but it took too much effort. I hurt. I hurt in places I didn't know existed. I lay there for some time listening to the sounds surrounding me and smelling the odors of what could only be a hospital room. What happened? How had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was sitting through Mr. Hargrove's lecture on the first day of my senior year of high school. God was that man boring!
I felt the little strength I had disappearing and despite my confusion and fear, I let myself begin to drift off, but something brought me back. It was a sound. Someone was sniffling. I fought to open my eyes. I succeeded eventually. There was someone standing over me, but I couldn't focus enough the make out features. The figure was obviously female and she was crying.
"Tiffany?" I guessed, but it wasn't her. The body shape was all wrong. I blinked a few times and slowly my sight returned. The girl hovering over me had dirty blond hair with pink highlights. Weird. There was honest concern in her expression that turned to relief when she realized I was awake.
"You had me scared there for a while Johnny," she said with a grin as she wiped away her tears. I knew her, or at least I thought I did, but right at that moment my drug impaired mind couldn't put a name to her face. It didn't help that a nurse came racing in, saw that I was awake and frankly, looked more than a little shocked. The strange girl reached out and brushed my cheek with her hand. "You're going to be alright. The best thing you can do right now is rest. Everything will be okay."
Her confident tone and comforting words calmed my fears somewhat, but I still wanted to find out what happened. I also wanted to ask her name, but the nurse was directing her to the door rather forcefully.
"You're not supposed to be here. You have to go," the nurse was saying. "I need to page the doctor."
The girl nodded in understanding. I wanted to argue, but the medicine I was on and my sheer exhausting were too much. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I felt myself falling back to sleep and could do nothing to prevent it. The last sight I saw was the girl glancing at me over her shoulder as she walked through the door. She was smiling and wiping one last tear from her cheek.
**********
I woke up slowly. This time is was people talking that forced me to consciousness. I was even more tired than before, but at least the pain had lessened. Of course, that might have been the drugs because I was clearly on something. My mind was doing funny things. I was too exhausted to open my eyes so instead I listened.
"I'm sorry Mr. Simmons, but I really can't tell you more than that," a male voice said. The tone alone said the speaker was a doctor of some sort. "We still can't find a reason for John's seizure, but whatever it was caused a complete systemic shutdown. Frankly, it's a miracle that he actually woke up from his coma."
"My boy is a fighter." Pop's voice was proud, but also strained. He was worried. I could hear that. I wanted to comfort him, but between the exhaustion and medication it was impossible. I couldn't control my body.
"We won't know the lasting effects of his attack for weeks yet, but there will be some," the doctor's voice warned. "This is going to be a long, arduous battle and John's going to need both of your help to face it."
"And he'll have it," my mother's voice promised. "But I bet you he surprised you again. John's special."
"We'll see," the doctor said, his words meaning to comfort, but his tone doing anything but.
**********
"Thanks for inviting us to visit Mr. Simmons."
My eyes fluttered open. I knew that voice. It was my friend Jimmy. I was unsurprised to see Mike with him. They were my two of my closest friends. I'd played football with them since Pop Warner. I tried to say hello, but nothing came out.
"I thought it might do John some good," my father said, watching me carefully. Pop looked exhausted. My heart went out to him. "He was able to talk a little yesterday with his mother and me. He seemed more concerned about the football team than anything else so we thought seeing you two might help."
I'd talked to my parents yesterday? I didn't remember that.
"Sounds like John," Mike smiled. "He eats, sleeps and breaths football."
"Just like some others I know," my father teased, but he didn't smile. His expression was worried as he continued to watch me.
"How is he?" Mike asked, obviously meaning me.
"He was better yesterday, but the doctors had to up his medication last night because he had a relapse," my father replied. "Oh the other hand he's awake, which at one point the doctors were confident would never happen."
"I'm sure he'll be fine in time Mr. Simmons," Mike said, placing his hand on my father's shoulder.
"Me too," my father replied, sounding less certain than he did when he was talking to the doctor. At least my memory of waking up that time was still intact. I was betting that the upping of my medication somehow robbed me of my memory of yesterday. I wondered how many other times I'd come awake and no longer remembered.
"Why don't you talk to him about football?" my father said, patted Mike's hand before moving away from me to make room for them. "He'd like that."
"We played our first game last night," Jimmy began. "We won, but it wasn't the same without you." He proceeded to tell me about some of the key plays in the game. It was killing me that I missed it, but his talking did make me feel better.
"Of course, you know Coach Riley," Mike sighed. "We beat the other team by two touch downs and he still spent the entire bus ride back telling us what we did wrong." I didn't quite shake my head. Coach Riley was a character. He wasn't my favorite guy in the world, but he did get results.
"Sounds...like...him," I was finally able to force out. My voice sounded terrible to me, but both Jimmy and Mike smiled when they heard. Pop looked relieved. I was able to squeak out a few more words during their visit, but quickly grew tired. I don't remember them leaving, so either I passed out somewhere in the middle or the medication robbed me of the rest of their visit.
**********
"Good morning John." I opened my eyes and there was a young woman standing by the door looking at me with an expression that seemed to me a little too intent. I had no idea who she was. She seemed very young. Her hair was brown and she had pretty blue eyes.
"Hi," I croaked. My voice sounded like I hadn't used it in a long time. I still felt terrible, but I knew I was getting better. It was just slow going. "How long have I been out of it?"
Whoever she was, she ignored my question. Instead, she moved closer. Something about her expression made me think she wasn't as young as I originally guessed. She surprised me by taking my chin in her hand and holding my head steady. My heart beat faster. I thought she was going to kiss me.
"You're not that lucky," she laughed. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I didn't like her tone. I reached up to push her hand away. It took some effort. It was then that her eyes locked with mine. I froze. I'm not even sure why. She starred into my eyes for what felt like an eternity before releasing my chin and stepped back. I suddenly regained control of my body. My hand flopped back down on the bed.
"What just happened?" I frowned, feeling oddly confused.
"Nothing much," the girl shrugged. "The three hags are in a lather. They keep saying something big has changed, but they can't name it, which frankly, should be impossible. They think it has something to do with grandmother, but she's become even more of a recluse than usual."
"What?" I asked, my confusion growing.
"Don't worry about it," the girl said. "You're clearly just a confused eighteen year old."
