Katia

If I never had to see another nurse or another doctor ever again for the rest of my life, that would be okay with me. I've had thermometers in my mouth, needles in my arms, and hands and fingers put in some ungodly places since I've opened my eyes. True to form Christine has not left this room. Her presence alone is annoying me. Why won't she just leave? She has to have a life outside of me. I'll make her want to leave one way or the other, she'll get sick of me. I know she will.

Christine finally walks out of the bathroom. If I didn't know any better I would have thought she ran away. She was in the shower forever. She's wearing a bra and a pair of jeans. My eyes linger on her chest a moment too long. That bra makes her breasts look really nice. She's smirking when I finally tear my eyes away from her bosom. I think she caught me staring.

"Your parents texted me while I was in shower. They're on their way." She pulls a shirt from her bag and slides it over her head. Thank god she didn't call me out on my peeking.

I just nod my head. I haven't said much of anything to her today. Part of me feels like I'm being a dick. The other part of me understands why I'm trying to push her way. I'm so confused and frustrated. I'm angry and sad. Despite what I try to make Chris believe, she's right. I'm scared. I'm absolutely terrified of what my life may be like now. I don't think I want her around for that. She'll end up resenting me. I rather her just go now.

Of course another nurse walks in. How do they stay so cheery around so much pain and death?

"Afternoon, folks! I'm back. Are you sick of me yet?" She asks.

"Yes." I answer honestly. I didn't even mean to. It just slipped.

"Katia." Chris says with a look of shock on her face.

"No worries." The nurse says still smiling. "I'd be cranky to with someone always in my business."

I roll my eyes. She doesn't know the half of it.

We go through the hand squeezing and following the light routine. Stick my tongue out. Check my ears. She goes down to my feet and I stare at the ceiling waiting for this invasion to be over. I think back to all the times I took just getting up to pee for granted and I wish that I could kick myself. Really, just kick anything at all.

"Ow!" I shout. The sudden pinch snatched me from my internal loathing. "Why'd you do that?"

She looks up at me. "You felt that?" She asks as she jots something down on her clipboard.

"Uh yeah!" I pause, realizing what that means. "I felt that... in my foot. Do it again."

She stabs my foot and again I feel the same poke.

"What does that mean?" Chris asks.

"Yeah I why couldn't I feel it before?" I ask.

"Our bodies and brains are weird. Comas are complicated. Sometimes different parts of our bodies wake up at different times." She says as she continues to write.

"But that's good, right? It's a good sign?" Chris asks. She already so happy as the possibility of me regaining my ability to walk. Too happy. She's probably already creating ways to tell me she doesn't want to be with me. She loves my dancing. It's the only reason we met in the first place.

"Your doctor will be in with you shortly." The nurse says, but that's not really an answer.

Christine doesn't seem satisfied with that either. "But that means she'll be able to use her legs again, right?" She says.

The nurse gives her a sympathetic smile. "It's still too early to call those types of things."

Chris swallows her little glimmer of hope and tries to mask her disappointment. "Okay."

The nurse leaves us alone again.

"You know you can leave at any moment, right?" I ask.

"You know I'm not going to, right?" She asks.

"I hate you."

"Okay. Hate you too, babe." She's completely unfazed. She starts rubbing lotion on her arms. "I saw you checking me out earlier."

"I was not!" I lie.

"Yeah you were. It's okay, you know? I'm your wife."

"Well... what if I don't want to be your wife anymore?"

"Then you'll have to divorce me."

Her nonchalant approach is burning me alive. "Do you think this is some type of joke!? Am I a joke to you??" I'm angry but maybe my eyes didn't get the memo. They start to tear up against my wishes.

"Of course not, Katia, but I will not give into your rebellious behavior. Find a better way to acknowledge your feelings."

I angrily wipe the tears from my eyes. "My rebellious beha - do not patronize me! I am not a child."

"So stop acting like one." She leans against the windowsill and takes a sip from her water bottle. "Can I ask you something?"

"No." I say, still angry.

She ignores my answer and asks anyway. "What exactly do you remember about our relationship?"

I stare at her a bit, debating on whether or not I want to answer her.

"Well?" She asks. Her face is unchanging. She doesn't seem happy, sad, or angry.

"I know we met in dance class. You were my teacher. I liked you. You liked me. We dated." I pause and think for a second. "You cheated on me." I roll my eyes. "I forgave you for some reason."

"Because you love me." She says. "And I was sorry and you knew that."

"Whatever."

"What else?" She asks.

"You asked me to marry you. I said yes. Obviously." I look down at my naked finger now. The tan line from my ring still noticeable. "Wh-where is my ring?"

"I have it. Do you want it back?" She asks.

I fold my arms and look away from her. "No."

"Okay." She says simply. "What do you remember about our... dynamic?" There's a hint of shyness in her voice that wasn't there before. It softens me against my will.

"Like what do you mean?" I ask.

"The way we relate to each other in our everyday and sex life?"

"I don't really know." I shrug. "I remember big events. The smaller details still come back to me little by little. I know for sure I'm into some type of pain."

She chuckles and plays with the top of her bottle. Her shoulders shrug. "I was just curious."

"Anything else?" I ask sarcastically. I'm being snippy but I do want to keep talking to her. Her voice helps me relax just a little.

She shakes her head and rolls out her yoga mat. She starts to stretch. I watch her intently, secretly yearning for the warmth of her hand or the weight of her arms around me. I crave the scent of her perfume. I just need comfort in a way I don't know how to describe.

A wistful sigh escapes my lips and I close my eyes. With any luck, I'll wake up and this will all be a bad dream.