The Long Flight Home
      Chapter 14
 

In the night of death hope sees a star and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
-Robert Ingersoll



The shock of his name on her lips caused Danny to reel back in stunned surprise. As he moved jerkily backwards, the cup dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers and it’s contents spilled onto the floor in cascading droplets, splattering his pants and shoes as it reached the gray green tile underneath his feet. His eyes were still locked to hers, but in the instant that it took for him to react to her voice, to blink, her eyes had softly closed, her long lashes fanned out over her cheeks, her breathing soft and even.

Had he imagined her calling his name? Had he wished it from her now silent lips? She was lying just as she had been when he’d walked in earlier, her body so still that all he’d been able to discern was the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed on her own. He was confused, unsure of himself. As he reached a now trembling tentative hand out towards her, the door of the room suddenly opened, bringing with it a whoosh of air and a blinding light. He squinted against the light, it’s brightness unfamiliar to him, as he had existed for so many days and nights in the darkness of his own pain.

"Is everything all right in here?", a female voice asked. By her tone, he knew it was the nurse who had greeted him on the occasions he had been in to see Michelle.

"Yes", he answered. "She woke up briefly and asked for a drink of water. I tried to give it to her, but she barely sipped any before she fell back to sleep."

"So, our patient is coming back to us", she mused. "I knew something was happening in here because her blood pressure and heart rate increased on the monitor at the nurses station. I thought it might be a sign that she was waking up. I’m sure the rest of the family will be delighted by this news, don’t you think?"

He didn’t know what to say to her, so he shook his head in agreement. After a brief pause she continued talking, relieving him of having to lie about who he really was, not that he cared what anyone thought of him, but he wasn’t ready to leave Michelle’s bedside yet. He had too many unanswered questions and feelings surging through him. Michelle was the key. He knew it in his head, and somewhere, deep down inside this madness, his heart knew it too.

The nurse was bustling around Michelle, checking her vital signs, and jotting notes in her chart. He felt her presence, but he couldn’t seem to move his gaze from the fragile form in the bed, the one which had looked so very deep into his eyes and spoken his name. He’d felt an instant connection, a bond, but how, why? How could she possibly know him, he was sure they had never met, yet, from the first, he had felt drawn to her.

The nurse eventually left the room, the tension in Danny building with each notation she made in Michelle’s chart. The sound of her pen strokes on the paper grated in his ears, and the squeak of her shoes on the linoleum floor as she moved about the room sent his mind reeling. His nerves were stretched taught, and he felt raw, in pain. He moved about Michelle’s room restlessly, his hands massaging his temples as he walked. If the nurse noticed his state, she chalked it up to fatigue and worry. She had seen too many families placed in this type of impossibly frustrating situation to think his behavior odd.

Danny’s head was whirling now, the questions of why and how, so familiar to him, offered even less comfort then they had three weeks ago. He had felt so helpless then, when he had railed at God, had raged at life. What had become of his life that he had lost so much in such a short period of time? He’d not only lost the most precious person in his life, he had lost himself. He didn’t know where to look, he didn’t even know how to start.

The sound of a throat being cleared turned Danny’s attention back to the night nurse who was standing by the door holding Michelle’s chart in her hand.

"I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted to let you know that you can have a few more minutes with her, and then you should probably leave. She looks as if she has fallen back into a deep sleep, and probably she won’t wake up again for a few hours. Patients just coming out of coma’s tend to have episodes of lucidity, but a lot of times they are very confused and mix dreams with reality. She may not remember that she woke up tonight, so don’t be upset by that, it’s just a part of the process. If you need anything, or think she is waking up again, you can always use the call button to page me. It’s actually a good sign that she asked for a drink, that way we know that she can speak."

"What do you mean by that?", Danny asked more sharply then he had intended.

"Just the fact that the doctors are still unsure if she suffered any brain damage in the accident, or if she may have had some type of stroke during her heart attack and surgery. You know that she’s been through a series of traumatic experiences and even though the body possesses amazing healing powers, there are usually problems to deal with during recovery. She may come out of this just fine, or she may experience some lingering after effects, like partial paralysis, or numbness, difficulty in speech. With traumatic injuries there are myriad’s of possibilities."

Looking at Danny’s grim face, she realized that he hadn’t been privy to all these things. She immediately felt contrite for laying it all out so bluntly, but she felt it was best for him to be ready to accept whatever happened from this point on, good or bad.

"I’m sorry to have to tell you all these things so up front, but don’t you think it’s best you know beforehand so that you are prepared when Michelle comes back to all of you? I have a feeling you wouldn’t want me to sugar coat this, would you? Her recovery isn’t going to be simple, but then never anything in life is simple, is it?" She tried to couch her last response in some humor, because she could see that her words had affected him deeply.

Danny was almost done in. He could barely acknowledge this latest bit of news. He could feel the walls of Michelle’s room closing in on him, and he felt short of breath. There seemed to be no end to this suffering, either for her, or for him.

A gentle touch on his arm brought him back. The nurse had a sad smile on her face, as if to say she understood his silence. She gave his arm a squeeze as she turned away and moved to the door. Light once again poured into Michelle’s room, fingers of it stretching into the darkest corners of the room, then abruptly they were gone as the door closed. Danny was once again left in the gloom, the remaining shadows of light dancing eerily on the walls and ceiling of her room.

He needed a drink. Moving to the bathroom in her room, he made his way inside the small cubicle. As he reached for the tap handles his glanced strayed to the mirror above the sink. The image looking back at him seemed foreign, as if he were staring at someone he didn’t recognize. The eyes looking back at him were so full of pain, he had to look away, because they accused him. Turning the tap, he looked down as the water flowed out in a steady stream. He watched the water pour into the bowl, then swirl as it slid down the drain. He was hypnotized by the water. He moved his hands into it’s flow letting the coolness of it rush over his fingers and hands. He viewed the water cascading over the back of his hands as if from a distance, not even feeling it’s wetness. He turned his hands over and the water began to collect in his cupped palms. It’s clarity drew him, and as his hands filled up water ran over the edges of his fingers. The course it took was never the same, sometimes the water spilled over, sometimes it dripped. Sighing, he took a drink from his cupped hands and felt the fluidity of the water course down his throat, it’s coolness soothing the rawness there.

He continued to stare at the water as it ran, reflecting that his life had somehow become like this, a steady spiral, always changing course, without specific definition. He had always led a controlled disciplined existence. He had learned long ago to accept his role in the family, and he had paid a horrible price for this family. Whoever, or whatever he was to become had been scripted long before the present. He lived by a code of honor, and duty. Now though, he could find no honor in having to have buried his beloved sister, and the code of the family be damned for all he cared. Hadn’t he tried the coward’s way out tonight? Hadn’t he invited death to dance with him? Hadn’t he wished that death had won it’s vigil? Hadn’t he?

Angrily, he splashed water onto his face, and as he watched droplets run down over his eyes, nose and cheekbones he felt as if he were being washed away. The mirror distorted his face and for a moment he saw his image waver in the glass. Touching the mirror with a tentative hand he reached to trace his outline, but a harsh groan stopped him.

Turning from the mirror he heard the sound again. It was her, Michelle. She sounded as if she were caught in the grasp of some nightmare. She called out, her voice gruff from long disuse. He moved into her room, and walked until he stood by the head of her bed. She was restless, and as she tried to move she grimaced in pain. Not knowing why, he immediately reached for her hand. It was cold, and he laced his fingers through hers, careful not to put pressure on the still healing cuts and bruises found there. He pulled a chair close to her bed with his free hand, and then he bent low to blow warm air from his mouth onto her hand. He stroked it, willing what little warmth, what little humanity he had left in himself into her. He was suddenly stricken with an overwhelming feeling of tenderness. He inwardly flinched, fighting to feel nothing, wanting to be numb. He tried to let go of her hand, but when he went to move away, she clung tighter to him, and her distress grew. He went to hush her, but she started mumbling, and he couldn’t understand her. He bent low to her mouth, her breath causing puffs of warmth to caress his cheek. Closing his eyes tightly, his battered spirit drank in that warmth. He opened his eyes as he felt her body quiet. Her lips were still trying to move, to form words, but she seemed to be having trouble getting them to obey her. He watched her lower lip tremble and as he studied the curve of it, she pursed them as if she were concentrating hard to speak. Bending close to her ear, and speaking softly so as not to startle her, he whispered, "Hush, don’t try to talk. I’m here." He soothed his hand across her brow, his fingers smoothing her hair, and then he allowed his fingertips to trail down the side of her face, coming to rest in the hollow of her neck.

A wave of protectiveness flowed over him, and he moved the pads of the fingers of his free hand to touch her lips, as if to let her feel that the voice speaking to her had substance, to reassure himself that he was still flesh. She opened her lips as if to drink in his touch and she breathed the word "please." The vibration of that word sent sensations shooting upwards through his fingertips and radiating throughout his body in a wave of resonance. He felt like he was cracking, that he was falling into little bits, and that his only anchor was her. Her whispered plea drove right to his heart, and he felt a strange tightness in his chest, as if the mantle of grief he wore was trying to lift itself from his being.

"Please, what?", he drug from somewhere, the timbre of his voice sounding unnatural to his ears.

She must have understood him because she tried to form another word, but the effort to respond seemed to be causing her renewed distress, so he tried to quiet her once again. She tried to shake her head no, and moved her lips once more. Her grip on his hand tightened, her agitation increasing. His fingers moved to cup her cheek, but she mewed in protest, before seeming to give up. Danny was reminded of what the nurse had told him about the dreams and terrors that coma patients could suffer. He murmured soothing words to her, words he remembered using with Pilar when she was frightened as a child. They were buried deep inside of him, but now they came bubbling to the surface, and he was taken back to a time of innocence when there had been only the fearful young girl who was held safely in the harbor of her big brother’s embrace. He had been able to protect and comfort her then. The memories came back unbidden, and as they flowed through him, tear drops began to fall down his face, dripping off his chin to fall on Michelle’s battered lips. Startled, he moved to wipe them away, when her lips opened once again. This time, she was able to form words, and as she did so, his tears soaked into her chapped lips. Of it’s own accord, her tongue moved to seek the wetness there, and she breathed "don’t ever leave me."

"Don’t ever leave me", resounded in his head, the words seeming to vibrate off the walls of her room. If he had listened close enough he could have sworn it was the voice of his sister Pilar who had breathed those words. He was so caught up in memories of her, that he almost imagined it was her lying in this bed, and not this young woman whom he didn’t even know. The effort it had cost her to speak took it’s toll and her fingers became lax in his as she drifted back into a deeper sleep.

He made to untangle his hand from hers, and as he gently moved hers to lay by her side he noticed the lines on her palm. With one finger he carefully traced her life line, noting the curve of it, and the lacy veins beneath her skin, the veins circulating life giving blood. His stroking fingers moved to her wrist where he felt her pulse beating strong and sure beneath his touch. She was alive, and for that he felt a great comfort somewhere deep within himself, but he couldn’t help to remember that his sister lay cold and still, alone. He wanted to forget, oh how he wished he could only turn time back.

Sitting back down in the chair by her bedside, he felt drained by not only the events of this past night, but by all that had occurred in this room. He wished he knew where his control was now. Where was the bravado that had sat upon his shoulders like a right? Where was the stoic acceptance of a life that only brought pain? Why did he feel suddenly alone? Where was the perfection of his ordered life, where his heart had learned to forget love? The only love he had truly valued, that he had let seep into him had been that of Pilar, her innocence and joy, the only thing that had balanced his tortured soul. On a sigh, one that came from the depths of his ravaged body, he closed his eyes, and sleep drew him into her gossamer web.

Suddenly she appeared, Pilar, smiling at him, beckoning him to follow her. He moved forward to go with her, calling to her to slow down, but she began to disappear into a mist ahead of him. The mist spread, surrounding both of them, and his vision became obscured by it. He called to her again, more urgently, and he heard her voice, faint, in the distance. She was laughing, the sound of it permeating him with it’s warmth. His heart began to pound, and he began to move faster through the dense clouds in front of him. He thought he glimpsed someone up ahead, but the mist had now turned to a steady rain. Each step he took, was harder than the last, and he found himself soaked through. Her laughter was but a distant echo now, and he felt heavy, the weight of an un-named grief settling over him. He couldn’t move, frozen with fear. He tried to call her name, but there were no words, only a screaming agony in his mind. His pain reverberated through his body, and he felt anchored by it. He tried to turn, to find his way out, but where there had been a path before, there was now only a seamless wall of mist that was ever darkening.


He watched the landscape before him grow murky and dim. He welcomed the tendrils of nothingness that he felt winding their way toward him, swirling about his feet and ankles, moving to climb up his legs. He closed his eyes as he felt the arms of this aching void surround him. He let himself go, but in that instance a brilliant light shone through his closed eyelids. He could feel the mist creeping away, as if overcome by the warmth of the light. He couldn’t seem to open his eyes, but feeling began to return to his body. It hurt. He felt blood rushing through his veins, he felt nerves burning in his fingertips, and then he felt someone take his hand, instantly soothing the pain. He knew the touch, yet he didn’t know it. He was overwhelmed by the sense of peace which was flooding through his body, like a tidal wave, banishing the darkness and the pain. He fell into it’s open arms, and as he fell the energy that surrounded him, held him secure. He reached out blindly, and heard the presence say "I will never leave you, ever." Then, before he could formulate a response he felt the gentle pull of the hand urging him forward, as if to guide his still blinded eyes.

He moved through the light, images dancing across his eyelids, ones of childhood, ones of love and laughter, ones of joy, ones of Pilar. She walked with him, swinging his hand in hers, her hair catching refracted light as she gaily walked, her eyes sparkling with a knowing light. He felt infused by her warmth and the light that fed him. She spun from his grasp, and as she did so, she held her arms wide, and looked up into the blinding light. He tried to warn her not to look directly into it, but she was so happy, no words came to him. As he watched her, a beatific smile lit her face, and she spared him one last loving gaze as she spun further into the light, until he couldn’t tell where the light ended and she began. Soon, there was nothing but light, and she was gone, only the lingering feel of her presence remained. The light still burned in him, and there was something else, a burgeoning feeling of peace that was invading his limbs. The weight of his grief was lessening, and his body almost felt void without it, but this new feeling of peace was replacing it. Soon, the light shone less brilliantly, and he felt his eyelids begin to flutter. Opening them, he suddenly woke up and found himself laying with his head on the covers next to Michelle Bauer, her hand resting on his head, and the words "I will never leave you, ever", lingering like a balm on her lips.

Lifting his head, he looked at her peaceful countenance, the slight smiled that played about her lips, the posture of her body that suggested she was no longer in pain. He reached up to move her hand, and on impulse he took her palm and laid a gentle whisper of a kiss in it. He then took her hand and laid it flat against his face, closing his eyes once again as he inhaled. The smell of roses permeated his senses, and as he opened his eyes once again, he saw the outline of the sterling rose sitting on her bedside table. He was surprised at the strength of it’s perfume, and of the beauty of the bloom which looked dew kissed in the pre-dawn light. He moved to get up, stretching his back which had grown stiff from the angle with which he had slept. The images from his dreams remained a strong presence with him, and he walked to the window of her room, watching how the light of the new day burned through the draperies, it’s rays painting the floor and Michelle’s bed with light and warmth. Turning from the window, he made his way to the door, watching Michelle as he walked. She looked different somehow, and he felt changed somehow too. He could only imagine that he had dreamed her saying the words that he thought he heard on her lips as he woke up. How would she have known what he was dreaming? Shaking his head, he realized that she couldn’t have. He must still be in the throes of his dreams, he thought. Sparing her one last glance, he opened the door to her room, and walked past the nurses station to the elevator. There was no one to ask him questions, no one to inquire about his presence in the hospital so early.

As he found his way into the elevator he pushed the button to the lobby. His mind continued to swirl with images from his past, but now a new image had worked it’s way into his mind, that of the face of Michelle Bauer. Her image filled him with a sense of peace, and as he moved from the elevator to the front entrance of the hospital, his step was lighter, his movements more relaxed. As he passed through the sliding doors of the hospital to the outside, he faced the light of the new day, a man not broken, not yet healed, but willing to face life again.