Dum Spiro, Spero
      Chapter 5  - Mens Conscia Recti

I lift my head, slowly, from the pillow, the weight of a thousand broken dreams, battling for occupancy in my spirit. My neck is sore and lifting my eyelids is a process not unlike stabbing daggers in my eyes, in this moment. I'm still tired, the sedative makes me woozy and slightly nauseous, but the concave of my chest no longer feels ready to split in half, whenever I take a breath. I have no idea how I got here, or how long I have stayed, but I know I am not alone. The last thing I remember, was the apartment spinning around in circles, so quickly, I thought I'd been possessed by the spirit of some long dead ice skater, showing her moves on the ice, only I was not moving an inch. I recall him saying something, about a hug and my need to respond, but my mouth felt like cotton and I could not find the words. The only other vague memory I have, is of him standing over me, his arm waving in wild positions, as if he were in slow motion. Beyond that, I have no idea why I am here. I don't even think I want to know. Perhaps I'm desperately ill, but my body feels fine, I do not hurt anywhere, and there are no machines or tubes attached to me. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I have actually slept more than an hour, at a time. Despite the nausea and the wooziness, I feel healthier than I have in ages. It doesn't seem so dark, when I finally manage to open my eyes.

But I am alone.

Maybe I imagined those images of him, and the apartment, but I am sure that is not the case. I'm sure that I was not here by myself, this entire time. More sure than I have been of anything, in weeks.

I slide my hand up my arm, searching for the slightest hint of an IV, at the very least. This is strange, there's not even a band-aid to be found. Maybe I'm dead and I don't even realize it? Could this be what heaven is supposed to feel like? Weightless, and surrounded by cold, white, sterile walls. I finally manage to pull myself up, in the bed, and find the call button for the nurse. If no one comes to check, then I suppose I will have my answer. I open my eyes, steadily, taking in my surroundings, wrapping the blanket around my knees. The chair is too close to my bed, someone must have sat there.

"Michelle, oh sweetie, I'm so glad to see you're awake."

I take a deep breath, allowing myself a minute to take my brother's presence in. He seems alive, and in one piece, maybe this was all just a very strange dream.

"What..." I open my mouth to speak, the dryness catching in my throat. I swallow some ice chips, before I continue. "What happened?" my voice sounds, groggily.

"You just had a little scare, a slight case of exhaustion, we gave you something to help you sleep, for a while," he reports with genuine relief. "I knew all those nights of not sleeping were going to catch up to you after a while."

"How did you know I wasn't sleeping?" My mind feels like it's settling in place, as if it had been slightly ajar for a while and I just shook it back into position.

"I might be an old fuddy duddy who goes to bed at 10pm at the latest, but that doesn't mean I don't hear you in that kitchen, night after night. I'm glad you're okay," he reaches over to me, hugging me to his chest.

I pull away, drawing inwards, the proximity of the chair overwhelming me. "Where's Danny?" I do not hesitate.

"I have no idea. But don't worry about him right now, Michelle, take care of yourself. I'm sure that's what he'd want," he rushes out quickly.

"But he was here, wasn't he? Rick? He was here," I say emphatically.

"Yes he was here, Michelle. He brought you in, stayed a bit and then took off."

If I know my brother at all, I know he's never going to give an inch, unless I give him the tape measure and wrap it around his neck. "What do you mean he took off? Did you scare him off?"

He stares at me with exasperation. "Unbelievable, you're laying in a hospital bed, because you pass out from exhaustion and you don't even want to hear about yourself, just the appointments in Danny's day planner. I have no idea why he left, he was here and then he simply wasn't anymore. Is that good enough?" It's obvious his most fervent wish is to end this track of conversation.

"It's important to me Rick," I plead, with a little more whining than I intended. "Because I know I'm not imagining that someone was in this room with me. If you're saying he was only here for a little while and he just took off... then you're saying..." he interrupts before I have a moment's clarity.

"... Something you don't want to hear Michelle. That's it isn't it? Well if it makes you feel any better, yes he was here, all night, to the point of distraction and annoyance. You know for someone hell-bent on divorce, you're awfully concerned with his reaction," he says.

I take a deep breath, I'm not fully up to fighting strength, at this point and there's no use arguing with Rick, when he gets this way. "So what's my diagnosis? How long do I have to stay here?" I quickly change the subject, and the look on Rick's face, let's me know it wasn't all that smooth a cover-up.

"Well you're free to go, as soon as you feel up to it. But I would like you stay a little longer."

"Why?" Though I don't think I could run a marathon, I do know I can't be confined to this bed, for much longer, my limbs hurt from lack of circulation for twelve hours.

"Because I want to know what's keeping you awake at night. Why you didn't just faint, you were unconscious for over an hour. This isn't a physical problem, Michelle, it's a psychosomatic problem. This was your brain shutting down, on purpose, it seems. Like you'd pushed it to it's last boundary. I want to find out why," he pleads, with genuine concern.

"So you can lock me in a psych ward again, maybe with a strait jacket this time?" I regret it, the moment it leaves my mouth. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair." I look away from him, unable to digest the stinging gaze he wears.

"I don't think you're insane Michelle, but I'm very concerned with the way you seem to be coping with all the stress you've been under, it's manifesting itself in a physical way, that could endanger your health if you're not careful," he takes a moment before he continues. "That's the doctor part of me, the brother part of me wants you to stop hurting yourself, before all this stress causes some condition that can't be undone. It's making you manic and playing with your head. Is he really worth all of that?"

I can tell from the perplexed look on his face, that he cannot fathom any person ever being worth something like my sanity, but he is wrong. "It's not all about him, Rick. Of course he's part of it, but it's about me, and I can't explain to you right now, how I know that, I just do. I didn't even want to recognize that... but there's been something wrong with me, for a long time, Danny just kind of gave me an outlet to blame" the concern is etched in every corner of his face. "I know you don't want to hear that, but the more time goes on, the more I realize it's true. There are things that I need to deal with, that I just stopped dealing with a long time ago. But they don't really go away, if you just push them in the corner, do they?" I let out a long sigh, the truth lifting a weight from my shoulders, that I did not even know existed until it began to dissipate. "I needed a wakeup call, and that's what this was. I'm not okay, but I will be. I promise." I give him a faint smile, unsure of how to go about the process of healing an emotional wound. No amount of sleep will undue these problems, and for the first time in forever, I recognize how little I have really done, to fix my problems. I have simply, let myself drown in them.

"I'm not going to push the issue of taking care of yourself, because you seem to realize you need to start doing that again. But I am going to push something you're not going to want to hear, and something you probably never thought you'd hear from me." The seriousness of his tone, catches me off guard. "You need to figure out, for once and for all, what you really want from Danny. I wasn't going to tell you that he stayed, or that he punched a security guard who tried to make him leave, or that he's only been gone the ten minutes it took you to wake up. But it's the truth. He sat here all night, and refused to leave you alone." I can tell by the look on his face, that he knows I am drinking this information in, by the gallon, and he cannot deprive my thirst. "I don't know him well, I don't trust him, hell I don't even like him that much but I do know genuine concern when I see it. And if it's as over as you both want everyone to believe, then you both need to stop centering your entire lives around one another, and at least give the slightest impression that you don't care." He gives me a dopey grin, and I laugh, the strange, unsure sound, playing like a violin to my ear.

"Thank you Rick," I reach for his hand, and squeeze with whatever strength I can manage. "You'll never know how grateful I am for what you just did. I know I have to deal with him, and I will. I just need to deal with some other things first, before I can even begin to figure that mess out. I don't want to wind up here, anymore than you want me here. And I'm gonna be okay, I am," I say quietly, but confidently.

"Listen, I get off in a few hours, if you want to hang around until then, after you're discharged, I'll take you home and we can..."

I cut him off. There are some things I must do, without his help. "Thanks, but I think, as soon as these sedatives wear off, a little more, I'm just going to head home, on my own." It wasn't quite the truth, but it was close enough.

"Are you sure? I don't know if you're strong enough to get around on your own. Twelve hours of sleep doesn't exactly cure a case of exhaustion. You need to take it easy and build up your strength, slowly," he explains, the doctor in him, kicking in.

"I'll be fine. Please, I can't worry about you worrying about me," I assure him. "Just go back to work, I know my way around here, I'll be gone in a little while."

He leans over and kisses my forehead, giving me a Bauer Big Brother hug, that I cherish, before he exits.

I may not be whole, but I am no longer broken, and tonight, of all nights, I need to begin to heal these wounds.

The burning sensation, trickles down the back of my throat, as I snap my head back up and stare back into the ocean waves. I'm no longer merely tired, I am numb and beyond the point of exhaustion, and the tequila is a salve to the pounding headache that has begun to form behind my eyelids. If I had to sit and listen to him babble incessantly for another minute, I would have hit him with the bottle and taken my chances in prison. Anything would have been a welcome respite from the barless prison of my life, of his constant chatter, of the same repetitive words vibrating in my ears, at every one of those damn meetings. Of course he meant well, but all he contributed were words, I did all of the action, I made all the mess, I took all the risks, my hands were the filthy ones. Until he could tell me he'd touched the dirt himself, he would never understand, or make me understand his abstract reasoning.

Truth be told, I don't think I heard a word, after "hello" this evening, but I could fill in the blanks from any number of conversations we'd had in the past. My mind has been racing all night, distracted by the events of the previous day, distracted by that night... two years ago, to the day... Getting good and drunk all by lonesome, seemed like a fabulous idea.

"Danny? What are you doing here?" I jump back quickly, the sound of her voice scaring the shit out of me. What the hell is she doing here? "Shouldn't I be asking you that," I respond quickly, embarrassed at how easily she frightened me. "What are you doing hiding behind the rock? Why are you out of the hospital?" I really cannot believe my eyes, she lay before me just a few hours earlier, totally listless and out of my reach, and now she stands before me, her hair swept in the wind, burying her hands in a jacket she has not worn in almost two years. I recall it, as quickly, as I do the image of her stalking off, wearing it, in the mall, that day. She looks younger, somehow, and not as tired.

"There was nothing really wrong with me, so I discharged myself. Thank you for taking me, and for staying..." she digs the heel of her boot awkwardly into the sand. How did she know I stayed? I stare at her, amazed by her profile in the light, at how different she looks in beach lit moonlight. "You didn't answer my question, why are you here?" she asks, my distraction, deep rooted and unwavering.

I wonder what she wore that night.

"I came here to bury my brother. And you?"

"So did I."

 
*Mens conscia recti= A mind conscious of right