Read Online Two Girls Staring at the Ceiling by Lucy Frank - Free Book Online Page B

talking
    I can keep her going:
    “Inch worm,
    Bittersweet,
    Tumbleweed,
    Fern.
    Cerulean,
    Cerise,
    Sepia,
    Mango Tango.
    “Atomic Tangerine,
    Wild Watermelon,
    Dandelion,
    Neon Carrot,
    Timberwolf,
    Mauvelous …”
    “S hannon?
    “You’re not like in a coma or something,
    are you?
    “Cuz my theory is
    you’re not talking cuz
    you’re like, ‘What’d I do
    to deserve this shit?
    I’m sick of it.
    Wake me when it’s over.’
    “That’s how I feel, too.
    “Shannon, if I tell you what happened
    to me on the island
    will you promise not to tell?
    “Shannon?
    Did you hear
    what I just told you?
    “Blink once
    for
Yes
    “Twice
    for
Fuck You.
    “Shannon.
    Talk to me.”

SIXTH DAY
    E arly as yesterday,
    brisk and chipper,
    the surgeons whip closed
    her curtain.
    “How we doing today, Ms. Williams?
    Mind if we take a look at the incision?
    “Good. I see your fever’s down.”
    “Excuse me. I’m a little worried
    about her,” I call out, same
    as I’ve told the nurse each time
    he checks our vitals.
    “We’ve got your infection under
    control. How’s the pain,
    Ms. Williams?
    Passed any gas?”
    “I’m worried about Shannon.”
    I catch the eye of Dr. Nguyen
    as the duck brigade arrives,
    Listen to the head duck tell
    Mrs. Murch, “Great news!
    You’re going home!”
    Listen to her complain she’s still
    a very sick woman,
    Listen as they reel off
    Shannon’s numbers,
    Listen to the head duck
    asking if by any chance
    she’s passed gas from below.
    “It’s not something to be shy about,
    Ms. Williams.
    Passing gas is a good thing.
    Passing gas means your guts
    are waking up, so we can start
    you on some food, begin—”
    “Doctor!
    Forget the gas!
    I’m worried she’s not talking!”
    I wait to be shushed,
    soothed, scolded.
    Instead, I hear a croak
    rusty as Mrs. Klein:
    “You better hope you’re not here
    when I pass gas, Doc.
    “If you are, get ready to run.
    “When I pass gas
    this whole fuckin’ hospital’s
    gonna go up in flames.”
    Dr. Nguyen takes a quick detour
    past my bed.
    “I think your friend’s gonna be okay.”
    He’s trying not to smile.
    “S he’s back!”
    I tell Astro, the blood man,
    Bobby, the vitals guy.
    “Watch out, Shannon’s back!”
    I warn Dr. R. Schmidt, the doc she advised
    to be a coroner, Joyce, the nurse
    who calls us cookie.
    A croak, a cough, a rough clearing
    of her throat:
    “Yo. Cookie! That you?
    What day of the week is it?
    And if you tell me the first day
    of the rest of my life, I might have to—”
    “She’s back, all right.”
    Joyce shakes her head,
    smiles, handing me my pills.
    “It’s Tuesday, Shannon.
    Good to hear your cheery voice again.”
    “What’s good is having that damn
    tube outta my nose.
    You could get that pain pump thing
    outta here, too.”
    “You sure?
    You’re a brave little girl, Shannon.
    You don’t need to be a hero.”
    I follow Joyce around
    to Shannon’s side,
    throat full
    with words
    that even in my ears
    sound puny, lame.
    Arms tight around her pillow,
    pain button in her hand
    Shannon is sleeping.
    C risp in her lab coat,
    curls tamed with pins,
    Dr. Hochstein—who in my mind
    will always be the Orange Croc Doc—
    pulls up a plastic chair
    across from Mom and me.
    “So, Chess? Ready
    to go home tomorrow?”
    I’m grateful we’re in the lounge
    so Shannon can’t see my joy.
    “Excellent. Because …”
    But if I’m so happy,
    why do I hear myself add
    “I guess?”
    Why am I watching
    branches bang
    against the windows,
    people shaking out umbrellas,
    When I should be listening
    to her tell us how many books,
    blogs, sites, support groups
    are available
    for teens like me;
    How many drugs
    to put me in remission,
    and with luck keep me there,
    with new ones all the time;
    While Mom, with the same careful smile
    on her face I feel on mine,
    takes notes,
    talks prescriptions,
    doctor appointments,
    food restrictions.
    “Any questions, Chess?”
    Besides: Will Shannon
    ever be