Awakenings I

Originally written Saturday, January 14, 2006 (cont.)

The knocking sounded distant but felt very near. My body hugged the faintly shuddering floorboards as if they generated the warmth of the presence they heralded. I might have been lying that way for seconds or hours, but it was probably about a minute before the visitor tried the doorknob and, finding it open, let herself in. My name was being called in a familiar voice, also far away though I could feel the air vibrating by my ear. I was being rolled onto my back. A warm hand held my wrist, while another pressed against my cheek, my forehead, the back of my neck. I was comfortable; I wanted to feel more of the hand, and when the one on my neck went away, I reluctantly opened my eyes just a slit to search for it.

“Oh, thank god,” the vibrations said. I found the hand on the floor next to my head, and unable to lift mine to reach it—I felt heavy all over, as if my veins were filled with something much thicker than blood—I scanned my way up the arm to the neck and face. Jeanine’s visage appeared to be in the process of transition from fear to relief. “Can you move? Are you OK?”

I squeezed my eyes shut again and concentrated, taking stock. All systems should be functioning fine, I diagnosed; they’d just taken a break to recuperate. The entire right side of my neck still ached. It wouldn’t appear as if it had been chewed raw, but it certainly felt like it, and the skin would be new-looking and tender. I focused on the heart, noticed the beat was very faint, and brought it immediately into a more normal range. Working my way up onto my elbows, shifting attention back to my exterior, I realized Jeanine was still holding my wrist. “That was quick,” she said with a sliver of surprise in her voice.

“What?” I croaked out. Now that I was conscious, I was recovering very rapidly, but I was trying not to seem to do so faster than an ordinary person might. My self-assessment reminded me of what had taken place before I heard the knocking, and I wanted to get myself back together as soon as possible, but without arousing Jeanine’s suspicion. The situation might be urgent.

“Your pulse. A second ago, it wasn’t even there, I thought you might be… and now iiiiiiiiiit’s…” she looked at her watch for what I guessed was a ten second interval, “fine. Sixty, sixty-five beats a minute, I think.”

“Oh, well, I guess I just passed out. Glad you came in.”

Her expression suggested this was a prematurely invented explanation. “Just passed out?”

“Um, yeah?” I’d pulled myself all the way into a sitting position and found the other warm hand. My own fingers were trailing up her forearm to her biceps and under her t-shirt sleeve. I was about to lean toward her to kiss her a very welcome hello, a hello that would assure her that nothing was wrong now, but she stopped me.

“Look at yourself in the mirror and try to use that word, just. Then look around the apartment and try to tell me passed out again.”

The events of this day to be continued...