Sleep to Dream

I walked slowly up the staircase in the house I shared with Twiggy. It was so quiet. Quiet and cold. There was no love in this house, no laughter. I passed by the bathroom, the guest bedroom, my room. The door to Twiggy’s bedroom was partway open. Hadn’t I left it closed?
I didn’t want to go into that room. I didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want anything to do with it. But the door was open. I reached for the doorknob to pull it shut, but the motion of my arm moving must’ve somehow made the door open further. I felt drawn to that room. No. I wouldn’t go inside. I couldn’t. It was Twiggy’s room.
There was an unnaturally cold breeze coming from inside that room. I stepped inside. I told my feet not to move, but they didn’t listen. I turned on the light, and I stared at the purple walls. Only Twiggy would’ve wanted purple walls.
Inside of the room, there wasn’t much to look at. Twiggy didn’t own a lot of things. He spent his money on guitars and music, not material possessions. Well…except for clothing and makeup, but that really was necessary to a point. There was a bed, a small dresser, a chair, and a nightstand. The room was clean. It was funny to me that it was so clean. He must’ve straightened up before we’d left.
I had to leave the room. I forced myself out, turning out the light, shutting the door. I couldn’t stand the sadness. I went into my own room, laid down on the bed, and closed my eyes. I couldn’t sleep. I had nightmares each time I tried. It simply wasn’t worth it.
About a month ago, Twiggy had gotten hurt. It was my fault. It was always my fault when people got hurt. He’d hit his head hard, and he’d been little more than a shell for two weeks. He’d finally started to come back, he’d been talking and he’d been fine. He was fine. Just fine. And then, I’d come into his hospital room three days later, and without an explanation, he was in a coma. Two weeks had passed since that morning. Every day, I would go to see him, hoping that he’d be awake and talking again. But he wasn’t. Every day, he lay there pale and unresponsive.
The doctors had no idea what was going on with him. They said that his brain was functioning, that he should’ve been awake and alert. But he wasn’t. They said that he would probably wake up soon, but I didn’t hold my breath. I felt like he was already gone. Maybe it was because we were so close, I knew him so well. I knew that he wasn’t going to be okay.
On the bedside table, my phone rang. I sat up slowly, lifting the receiver. “What?”
“Is this a bad time?” John’s timid voice nearly cracked.
“Every time is a bad time. What is it, 5?”
“I…just…”
“Spit it out.” I knew I sounded harsh. I didn’t really mean to be, but I was hurting so much that I was angry all of the time.
“Uh…um…I went to see Twiggy today.”
“Congratulations,” I spat.
“He…I…”
“John, is there a point to this?”
“I think he could hear me. I saw his hand move. The nurse said he hasn’t been reacting to anything, so that maybe this is good news.”
“You think he’d wake up for you?”
“I…”
“If he won’t wake up for me, he’s not going to wake up for you. Get over yourself,” I growled, slamming the phone down.
I knew that behaving this way was going to cost me the few friends I had left in the world, but at this point, I really didn’t care. All that mattered to me was Twiggy, and he was never coming back to me.
After I got angry, I cried. I lay back down on my bed and just cried like a stupid child. I could’ve counted the number of times I’d cried in my life on one hand until this had all begun a month ago. Now, I cried nearly every day. I didn’t know how to deal with any of this. Twiggy was my best friend. He was the only one who’d ever truly understood me. And now…now, I was alone.
Again, the phone rang. I groaned, and picked it up, knowing I’d probably sound upset when I answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Warner?”
“Yes.”
“This is Christine Michaels. I’m Jeordie’s nurse. I thought that maybe I should call to let you know that he’s showing signs of improvement. He hasn’t woken up, but there are signs that he’s mildly aware of his surroundings.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m honestly not sure. Hopefully, he’s going to wake up soon.”
“Should I come to the hospital?”
“That’s up to you. It is late, after all.”
“Yeah.” He looked at the clock on the wall. It was after ten.
“If you do want to see him, come to the emergency room doors and have someone page me.”
“Okay. I…I guess I’ll come.”
“Alright. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I hung up, sitting up on the side of the bed. I really didn’t want to go back there. Seeing him like that just made me sad. But, if there was a chance that he was going to wake up, I wanted to be there. Even if it was only for a minute.
I put on clean clothes for some reason, and then went back to the hospital. It was almost eleven when Christine walked me to Twiggy’s room.
“The man who was here earlier today read to him. You might try that.”
“I didn’t bring anything…” I began.
“We have magazines. I’ll bring you one from the waiting room. Any requests?”
I shook my head.
Christine came back five minutes later with a travel magazine. I opened it to an article on Jamaica, and started reading it to him. When I’d finished, I sat the magazine down. I looked at Twiggy. He looked just the same as he had for the past two weeks. Lifeless.
“Hey, what do you think? Want to take a trip to Jamaica? It sounds pretty nice. We’ve never been there. What do you say we go? Just you and me. We can take a vacation.”
Twiggy lay there, unmoving.
I lifted his limp hand, holding it in my own. “Please, Twiggs, wake up. I miss you so much. I know you’re so tired, but please, just wake up for a few minutes. Show me that you’re still in there.”
Of course, there was no reaction. I didn’t understand why the doctors were hopeful. They said that he just needed time. Time for what? To lay there and rot? I constantly questioned if he was in pain, or what this was doing to him, living this way. I didn’t want him to hurt. I just wanted this to be over. Neither of us were living right now. He was just a shell in a bed, and I was just a shell on my feet.
“Time for meds,” Christine said cheerfully, coming back into the room to pump something into his IV.
I looked at the skin around the tube. It was the only visible part of his body that had any color to it. It looked dark and swollen. Painful.
“That’s all,” she said to no one in particular, stepping back from the bed. “How’re you doing?”
I shook my head.
“Hang in there, okay? Don’t give up.”
I nodded.
She patted Twiggy’s arm lightly. “Goodnight, you.”
For a second, I really did think I saw his arm slightly move.
“Did you…?”
I nodded.
“Just keep talking to him. Maybe he’ll wake up for you.”
I watched her leave, and then, I started rubbing his arm, trying to figure out what she’d done that had gotten him to react. After twenty minutes, I gave up, and settled back in the cheap hospital chair.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, is there? You just want to sleep. You’re putting on an act, aren’t you?”
He remained still.
“I’ll bet this will get you to open your eyes.” I leaned over, and pinched him on the collarbone where I knew he’d feel it if he could feel anything at all. I didn’t pinch hard enough to leave a mark, just hard enough to test him.
Though I watched with hopeful eyes, he remained unconscious. I sighed, and settled back into the chair. I put my hand on top of his, and closed my eyes. Maybe some sleep would do me good. Maybe I wouldn’t have nightmares if I slept with him there.
I remember the feeling of falling. I wasn’t scared, but I was diving headfirst into something dark. I couldn’t see. I could hear voices all around me, and one of them was pleading. What were they saying? “Please….please….please….”
“Mr. Warner!”
My eyes snapped open. I felt hands on my back, pulling me upright. I felt dazed and confused.
“Mr. Warner, you fell asleep and you hit your head on the bed rail. Are you okay?”
I focused on the young nurse. “I think so.”
“You’re heavy.”
I was startled by the sound of Twiggy’s voice. I looked down, and saw that he was awake, looking up at me with tired eyes.
“Twiggy! You’re awake!”
“Really?”
I playfully punched him in the arm. Even now, he was sarcastic.
“How about you get us something to eat? I’m starving!”
The nurse laughed. “I’ll bring you whatever I can find. It’s good to see you awake.”
He looked at her as if she’d been speaking Klingon. When she’d gone, he looked up at me. “What’s she talking about?”
“Do you remember when you hit your head?”
“I think so.”
“You woke up, and you didn’t speak, and then, you were okay for a few days. Then, you went into a deep coma. You’ve been out for two weeks.”
“I have?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’m awake now.”
“So I see.”
The nurse came back with a tray of food. She’d barely put it down when Twiggy started chowing down.
“Slow down. Chew.”
He stuck his tongue out at me, and we both laughed.
“Do me a favor, will you?”
He nodded, still shoveling the food into his mouth.
“Stay awake this time. No more long naps.”
“Okay,” he promised, extending his pinkie finger.
I hooked mine with his, and curled them together. My best friend was back. And this time, it was going to be for good.