Glass was everywhere. I carefully stepped over the shattered pieces of what was once a picture frame and found my way to the closet to get a broom. There was still some what of a form left to the picture frame I dropped. It was a complete accident. It were as though my heart skipped a beat and my hands just lost grip. I was able to salvage the faded photograph from underneath the rubble of shining destruction. I glanced at it for a few more seconds and placed it facing up neatly on the counter. I cleaned up the mess and took a seat at the kitchen table. I thought for a few moments about the picture itself, yet deep inside I wanted to forget it all. My mother always used to tell me to get up and do something every time I was prone to start thinking. So I got up and made my way down the stairs to courtyard of the complex. By this time I was noticing my head starting to feel very light, and my eyes were beginning to dim in and out of focus. I took a few more steps and then…..
I woke up in a hospital bed. Glancing around the room I saw a vase with flowers, and a few cards. My hand was somewhat sore and when I looked down I noticed the IV pumping some kind of medication. It all looks clear to me. For all I know they could be pumping water and out of the needle just to tell someone they are doing their job. My head was wrapped in gauss and I could only see out of one eye. I don’t really remember what happened to be honest with you. All I can remember was walking through the courtyard escaping memories, and then here I am. The doctor came in and gave me some more medication. All they told me when I tried to ask what happened was to get some rest. Chances are they are only stalling so they can make me pay for every minute I am in the bed. No wonder hospitals cost so much. I laid there for a few more moments staring at the ceiling. Not much activity was entering my mind at that point…..ok well I lied, there was a lot going on up there. I thought I was doing my self a favor by leaving the house and getting out….apparently not. I looked over and noticed my favorite book sitting on the nightstand next to my glass of water, dentures, and bed pan (ok maybe not dentures….or the bed pan….at least I hope not). I picked it up and found a sticky note on the cover from my mom telling me she broke into my apartment. What a great note to get from your mom while lying in a hospital bed: “hey sweetie, hope everything is alright,….by the way I broke into your apartment.” I’m pretty convinced they had me on some kind of pain medication. I was feeling rather loopy, yet still didn’t have any answers as to what happened. I leaned back and began to read my book. It was a few moments later that there was a knock at the door. It couldn’t have been the doctors, they just barge in without knocking. I was hoping it was my mom coming to tell my of all the great things she discovered while meandering around in my apartment “looking for my books.” However, it wasn’t my mother. I guess I drew the short straw, as I happen to do often. She came in the door and stood still for a few seconds. She came over and sat down in the chair by the bedside. I didn’t say a word at that point. I was just ready for her to make a dumb joke about always finding my way back to the hospital. Funny thing is, she hasn’t the slightest clue why…hmmmmm. She looked at me for a few more seconds before saying anything. The first thing she said to me was: “are you alright?” I guess something must be right with the world if I was able to come up with a sarcastic comment…at least to myself. I looked back and responded: “I guess so, I don’t know why I’m here, they just took me here, outside my of will.” She smiled knowing that at least the sarcastic part of me is still working. I’m pretty sure my grave stone will have something about sarcasm written all over it. “Here he lies….Finally.” I’m not so sure how many people would enjoy that, but it would make me grin, even if I wasn’t there to see it.
She said she heard I was in the hospital and thought it would be best to come by. I felt a part of me smirk sarcastically on the inside saying: “You have no idea.” I thought I would get the subject off of me and ask her how planning the wedding was going. She looked down and gave me the half hearted response: “It’s going ok, not much to it yet.” I laid back listening to her talk a little bit about it. She didn’t seem too enthused. I was more prone to believe she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Just as she finished up the conversation her phone rang. It was her bride to be….excuse me groom to be. I shut my eyes for a moment and when I woke up she was gone. I found a note by my bedside reading: “Sorry I had to go so fast, he wanted to meet for dinner, and you dozed off. Hope everything is going well, let me know if there is anything I can do.” I read the note and started to wonder which of the nurses forged her signature. I guess I believe it was her. It sounds exactly like something she would do; leave in short notice with little or no explanation. I rolled my eyes and fell asleep.
I woke up again to the doctor sitting at my bed side. He held a small plastic bag in his hands. I focused in on him as he was glancing at my file. He looked up and said: “you must really like us here; this is your second time back this year.” It was inevitable someone was going to crack a dumb joke. I was really tempted to tell him the source of the problem, but he wouldn’t get the joke anyways. “It was good they got to you in time, did you not notice you were bleeding? We pulled this out of your elbow.” He held the plastic bag with a small piece of glass in it. “You lost just enough blood to pass out; unfortunately you hit your head on a picnic table on the way down, which hopefully explains the gauss.” I guess that explains a lot. I wasn’t very careful cleaning up the glass from the kitchen floor. I told him what happened and he put on his reading glasses as if he was going to start lecturing the second I finished my sob story. He told me next time I needed to wear proper eye protection when cleaning up glass, as well as latex gloves, foot coverings, a plastic hair net, and a protective anthrax suit (for the full body protection). It was like a “Martha Stewart: How to be safe in the kitchen” lecture. Which I guess was necessary considering I didn’t notice the piece of glass lobbed in my elbow, or the dripping blood on my nice white shirt. Its ok, I’m not to bright, I ride the short bus….whenever possible; free animal crackers and apple juice.
I made my way down the hall toward the front desk of the hospital. I checked out and they gave me my receipt for the stay. I almost wanted to faint again after looking at my bill. There goes my honeymoon, oh wait…I guess that’s not that big of a loss considering my luck so far. I got on the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor. The doors opened and I made my way past the security desk and towards the sign for the parking lot. As I peered around the corner, there she was…again. I almost wanted to say: “Sorry I’m kind of in a hurry, I have things to do, people to see, places to go,” but before the words could come out, she said: “I thought you might need a ride.” I guess I forgot I didn’t drive my self to the hospital while fully unconscious. That would have made for a great game of two truths and a lie: “I once drove my self to the hospital….unconscious, I collapsed at work in front of 20 customers, and the girl of my dreams (both metaphorically and literally) told me she still loved me after 3 years of silence.” Well none of these would work because they are all true, at least they were.
We walked back to her car and I got in hoping she wouldn’t ask if I wanted to go grab lunch. I just got out of the hospital for goodness sake, the last thing I wanted was to repeat my bloody freefall. She stayed really quiet the entire drive back. I was really surprised. Not that she talks a lot, but she was more quiet than normal. We arrived back at my apartment. I thanked her for the ride and made my way past the courtyard glancing at every possible place where I could have made my plunge into the abyss of memories. I reached the top of the stairs and opened the door. Inside I found my things just as I had left them…all except one thing. The photograph on the counter was flipped over, and on the back was some writing. I figured either my mom wrote me an encouraging note, or this has been there for a while. It simply said: “This was the best day of my life.”
The phone rang from the next room as I sat at my desk pondering what the quote meant, or when it was written. I picked it up and heard my mom’s voice on the other line. She asked me how I was feeling, and if I was able to get her note on the book. I asked her if she moved anything around when she came through my apartment. She said she went straight to my office and then left. I sat puzzled hoping she forgot she moved the photograph and flipped it over. She hung up the phone and I moved to the next room. I found the photograph sitting face down on the counter and noticed a small bit of engraving at the bottom. It wasn’t enough make out an entire sentence, but I found the words “yours truly” at the bottom left of the photograph. I flipped through the pages of the journal and found the final entry signed: “yours truly.” This was awfully strange considering I received the picture framed not in a journal. However, the grooves matched almost perfectly, I’m no “Mr. CSI” or anything, but “yours truly” was written more like a signature, which is how I knew it matched. Apparently she pulled the photo out of the journal before sending it to me 2 years prior.
I put the photo and journal back on the table and sat down in the next room trying to escape the events of the day. “Just maybe,” I thought, there was a chance she intentionally sent me the picture at the time she did. I stood up and paced the house trying to put together the pieces to this seemingly impossible puzzle. Lets just hope I don’t cut myself on the glass….
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