He brushed off the locks of hair that had fallen out of her braids and tucked them gently behind her ears. His hands are big and strong. He swept away the tears she couldn't hold back with his thumb.
He closed his eyes, seemed to be in pain, and then sighed, "Claire, I am a gentle person, but in my life, I have never wanted to hit another man in the past. You said he touched you, I Will find him, you're welcome to him."
She said nothing, just shook her head.
"All right," he said. His voice hardened. Report to Nurse Cross in the ward. I am sure she has now thought of a suitable punishment. No longer escape. Did you hear it?"
She nodded.
"You can never finish DúLì," he said.
"Hey? Hello? Are you okay, miss?" a voice shouted.
I opened my eyes and saw a woman. She parked the station wagon behind the Buick. Her hazard lights were flashing.
"Yes." I said. This sounds more like croaking. I rolled over and knelt down slowly.
"I called 911," she said. Her hair was pulled back to the ponytail, and I could see the hair follicles on her forehead tense, trying to grab every strand of hair. I heard her children arguing in the back seat of her car and the window rolled down.
"I'm fine." I said. I wiped the dust off my face. I stood up.
"I think you should wait for the ambulance to come," she said. She still has a mobile phone in her hand.
"I will go to the hospital now," I said.
"Oh? But you should still wait for them. You probably shouldn't drive."
I turned around to walk away from her.
"Are you drunk?" She called me behind me.
I laughed out loud and she gave me an obscene expression.
"No, I'm not drunk. Yesterday I had a car accident and had a brain shock. I didn't feel well, so I had to go back to the hospital for a check. I was dizzy and stopped and parked the car on the side of the road."
She nodded slowly, "Don't move. You should wait," she said.
I walked back to the Buick. I can hear the ambulance in the distance.
"No," I said. "I can't take an ambulance anymore."
When I got into the Buick, she frowned at me. Fortunately, the key is still on the ignition.
"Wait!" she yelled, but her voice was swallowed by the yells of one of her children. She strode towards her car, "Remove your hands from your brother. Get them off! Now!"
I stepped on the accelerator, leaving only the screaming child, his screaming mother, and the jǐng of the ambulance in the rearview mirror.
My hands and feet feel normal again. There is no tingling sensation. very good.
I was taken aback, but I was proud, because this time I drove off the road calmly. This is far less bad than the one after the wedding. Don't misunderstand me. The situation is still terrible, but I tried to consciously disconnect myself from the whole thing. Looking at it is like a photographer observing a scene. I am immersed in this emotion and will not make any progress. That's it. period. I will solve it. I will find a solution.
I stopped at a convenience store and then went to the bathroom. I bought a pack of baby wipes for travel and carefully wiped my aching face. There are a few stones embedded in my forehead. I picked them out. I look at myself in the mirror. I look more like someone's punching bag.
I remember what happened in the back seat of Jǐngcha's car, as if it happened to me. I feel very uncomfortable and very dirty. violation. These wipes are not enough to make me feel clean again.
"It's not me. It's not me. That's not me," I said loudly to the person in the mirror.
She looked back at me, her eyes told me that it was her.
I started to cry.
No.
No, you don't know.
Cheer up. No feelings. You can't get through this difficulty like a child. Cheer up and face reality.
"Don't be emotional," I said to the mirror.
I wiped my arms clean. Wash my good hands. Cleaned the dirt on my cast fingers.
I never look in the mirror anymore, it's better not to.
I came to the hospital, parked the car, and walked into the big brick house. If I allow emotionality, I will be nervous, but because I am not, I am not.
This is in the intensive care unit. He has a room with glass walls, all the nurses have to do is to look up or up from anywhere to see him.
I stood outside the glass wall and looked at him. He looks worse than me. His face was swollen, purple and red, almost unrecognizable. One of his legs was hung from the ceiling with plaster cast all the way to his hips. Almost every inch of his body was wrapped with bandages, and the areas without bandages were either bruised or covered with rashes. He wears a respirator and uses a machine to monitor his heartbeat. Apart from him, there is no one else in the room, and he is rarely there.
It's hard to see him like this. I took in some air, held it in my lungs, and walked into the room.
Under all the scars and bandages, he is Ben. I can still see him, his long eyelashes, his chin, and his mouth resting in the shadow of his smug smile that marks xìng. Most of it is this.
I put my hand on his chest, gently, gently.
"I'm here, Ben," I said.
I don't know what I expected, but nothing happened. His heart continued to beep slowly, his chest heaving up and down, maintaining a steady and firm rhythm induced by the machine. I sat in a chair and looked at him for a while. Thinking of his thoughts-Ben, here I am. Ben, what's wrong? what happened? I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, but did not dare to fall asleep.
The nurse came and went. I can hear their feet stepping on the tiled floor. They are louder when they come and quieter when they go. No one bothered me or tried to wake me up. To them, I may look like I had eaten Ben in the same motorcycle accident. Both of us looked like we were chewed.
Once, I went to the cafeteria. I pushed a gray tray along the tray rack, and loaded it with a banana, chocolate nǎi, and a cheeseburger and French fries.
I eat it alone.
Judging from the dining area, I am not the only one who eats alone. The only exception is the father of two children who looks exhausted. Two little curly-haired boys ran around the table, their eyes pinched tightly together, and when they bumped into each other, they screamed hysterically, completely ignoring the father's repeated plea to sit down and eat. now. A metal balloon floated on the ceiling. The balloon was tied to a pink vase filled with neatly arranged pink and white flowers. Happy birth, baby girl, it declares to the world.
My cheeseburger is ok. It tastes better than it looks. So, this is an amazing thing.
After eating, I dragged my steps back to Ben's room, sat on the same black plastic chair, and waited for a while.
She smiled at me.
"You should talk to him," she said. "Many times, they can hear you. It might really help him."
I doubt that anything I can say to him will not help him. I am not the right person to encourage coma.
"Don't be embarrassed," she said. "Just talk. Say whatever you think."
After she left, I quickly moved the chair to Ben's bed.
I grabbed his hand.
I cleared my throat.
"Ben," I started. "I'm here. I know you came to see me and I know something is wrong. I don't know what it is. Really? I hope... I don't know what I hope. I think I just hope when I see you I was able to figure out a way when it was time. It hasn’t happened yet. What have you been up to lately? Except getting engaged, by the way, congratulations. I have been living in my dream, a starving artist, taking pictures and doing what I do. I Work part-time at a local coffee shop. This is a cool little place. You might like it. One of our regulars is the bassist of Bishop Culver. I don’t even know who he is. Give him coffee every day, and then The shopkeeper tells me who he is. He is cool. How are your brother and sister? I hope it’s a good thing. Man, I’m not good at this. Can you hear me? Do you want me to shut up?"
I dropped my forehead and placed it on Ben's bedside railing. The cold plastic sheet feels good on my face.
"You hurt me, Ben," I continued, my head still resting on the bed rail. "I bought all the self-help books I could find. I tried my best not to think about you. Forget about you. It didn't work. One night, I burned all the books in the fireplace. This trick worked. Some. Then one day, I suddenly stopped thinking of you. I haven't thought of you for many years. No, this is a lie, but this is a lie I tell myself every day."
it's no use. I decided that I can't sit with Ben anymore, and if I'm honest with myself, I don't want to risk meeting Ben's fiancé. She may be very beautiful, petite, and smart, and she is undoubtedly on the way to his bed.
Anyway, it's time to go back to Portland. The meeting with the Baku and his doctor suddenly appeared in front of me.
I bought a bottle of soda from the vending machine, walked around in the hospital corridor, finally gave in, and passed Ben's room again.
I know, I know, but I can't control it.
Someone was with him, a woman. When I approached the window, I recognized Bonnie Swift.
In this day and age, Bonnie is my best friend in school. She and I are very close like sisters. I haven't heard from them for many years. When I lost contact with someone, I fell all the way. Obviously.
I looked at Ben's room at the door, "Bonnie?"
She looked up at her name. She didn't seem surprised to see me so happy.
"Hi," she said. She barely opened her mouth to say it. Her eyes were red and swollen.
"Hello," I replied, and put on my friendliest long, invisible smile. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)