Free Me & Death by Richard Scrimger Page A

hurt to shake my head.
    “You’re a lucky guy, Jim. You could have died in the ambulance, or later on the operating table. Blood clots near the brain are tricky. But you came through. It’s incredible, really. There’s a lot we don’t understand.”
    “How long have I been here?” I asked.
    She checked my chart. “Admitted Tuesday afternoon, and it’s Friday now. That’s three days.”
    “Was I in a coma?”
    “Yes.”
    “Comas are cool.”
    She shook her head.
    “You’ll be leaving the Intensive Care Unit soon. We’ll keep you in the hospital a while longer, make sure you can move on your own before we let you go home. Your mother says you’re twelve years old – is that right?”
    “I’m fourteen.”
    “I thought you looked bigger than twelve. I’ve got a twelve-year-old at home. In fact, you look pretty big for fourteen.”
    She waited a sec, then said casually, “Your mother doesn’t visit very often, Jim. You two get on okay?”
    I shrugged. “Not bad.”
    “It’s just that most moms practically live here when their kids are sick. What about the rest of your family – dad, grandparents, brothers and sisters. Are they in the picture?”
    I told her I had a sister. “But I don’t think she’s anywhere near the picture,” I said.
    “Oh,” said the doc.
    Next time I woke up I was in a regular room, with a mean nurse and a geezer roommate named Chester who wheezed.
    The nurse showed me how to walk, pushing around a clear plastic bag on a pole. First trip was to the bathroomdown the hall. (I didn’t have a tube attached to my dick anymore.) She left me alone but came busting in when I screamed.
    I was staring into the mirror. First time I’d seen myself since the accident. “I’m bald!” I cried.
    “They shaved you for the operation,” the nurse told me. “Stop whining, you baby. It’ll grow back.”
    Ma came to visit once but didn’t stay. I was on the fifth floor. That was a lot of up and down for her. I told her I was glad to see her.
    “Are you?”
    “Yeah.”
    She coughed a couple of long, rumbly ones. Sounded like an old car starting in the rain.
    “Can I ask you something then, Jim?”
    “Yeah.”
    I was sitting up in bed with my knees raised under the covers. She pushed her chair forward.
    “What’s it
like
, dying?” she said. “Joanne Solarski from the pharmacy ran to the house and told me you were dead. Everyone said so. But you’re alive – you came back. So tell me, what happens? Are the stories right? Did you see an angel, Jim? Did you move toward the light? Tell me.”
    I’d never heard her talk like this. Mostly it was
Don’t bother me now
, or
Has anyone seen my teeth?
Here she was, sounding really interested.
    “I didn’t die,” I said.
    “
Something
happened to you,” she insisted. “You’re different, Jim. Saying you were glad to see me, just now.That didn’t sound like you at all. And you’ve been smiling. There – you’re doing it now. You didn’t used to smile this much. Were you touched by an angel?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “I saw a TV show about a soul who couldn’t rest until she showed the cops where the missing child was. Do you have a mission like that, Jim? Someone to save?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I bet you do. Who’s Marcie?” Peering at me.
    “Marcie?”
    “You’re smiling again. She’s someone, isn’t she? Marcie. You called that name out when you were sleeping.”
    I tried to think back, but I was missing a connection. Wires in my brain hanging loose.
    “It was probably a dream,” I said.
    She stood up, checking her purse for cigarettes. “Well, I got to go. You look weird with no hair, Jim. Like a ghost, you know? Like you’re not here. That’s what Cassie thinks. She won’t visit, because she doesn’t think you are really you.”
    “What?”
    “I told her you were in the hospital, but she won’t believe me. She is sure you’re dead.”
    My crazy sister.
    “Well, bye, Jim.”
    “Bye, Ma.” I