The Return by Christopher Pike Read Free Book Online Page B

not in a normal room.
    "He's on the eighth floor, Room Nine," the woman said. "That's a restricted area. You might have to show I.D. to get in."
    "No problem," Jean said. "Thanks for your help."
    "You look like you've been in an accident yourself." the woman observed.
    "Yeah, I fell off a balcony."
    "You were lucky you weren't killed."
    Jean felt a cold wave, goose bumps all over. Had someone just walked over her grave? Felt like it.
    "Yeah," she muttered.
    Room Nine turned out to be many small adjoining cubicles hooked up by wires and computers to a central nurses' station. One thing they didn't worry about in intensive care was people's privacy, Jean thought. The area was thick with the smell of alcohol and pain. The moment Jean walked in, she had to sit down. Her head throbbed. A young nurse who looked like a nun came over to check on her. Jean assured the nurse she was fine and explained how she was there to see her brother. The woman recognized Lenny's name. She didn't ask for I.D. Jean was helped into the last cubicle on the left and left alone with her boyfriend.
    He was not a pretty sight, and it broke her heart because he had been such a pretty boy. Surprisingly, he was not in a body cast but held rigidly in place by a combination of plastic rods and screws and clamps. His bed, it was clear, was capable of rotating so that his body could be turned. Jean suspected it was necessary to circulate his blood and keep him from getting bed sores. He had no marks on his face, no wounds to any part of the front of his body, although she could see the edge of the large bandage on his back. Still, he looked like death itself. His skin was pasty white, as if a vampire on a binge got hold of him. His eyes were closed; he appeared to be asleep.
    "Lenny," she whispered, her voice shaky.
    He opened his eyes, but didn't look over at her, staring at the ceiling instead.
    "Jean," he said softly.
    She moved to his side, went to take his hand, then thought better of it. The simple fear of touching him hurt her as much as anything had so far. It must have hurt him as well; he looked at her with such wounded eyes it was all she could do to not burst out crying. She remembered a dog she had had as a child. He had looked at her the same way right after being struck by a car, right before he died.
    '"Ola, "she said.
    "Ola, " he said. "How are you?"
    "Fine." She touched her bandage. "Just bumped my head is all."
    "Yesterday they told me you were in a coma."
    "That was yesterday." She paused. "How's your back?"
    He smiled bitterly. "I don't know. I can't feel i t"
    "What can you feel?"
    He closed his eyes. "I can use my hands and arms. I don't know what else works."
    She reached over and gently touched his big toe. He had on underwear, nothing else, but there was a vaporizer steaming in the corner and the cubicle was warm and humid.
    "Can you feel that?" she asked.
    "Feel what?" His eyes remained closed.
    She took her hand away, the weight on her chest heavier than the one on her head. "Nothing. Lenny. Look at me, please, I need to talk to you."
    He opened his eyes. "What do you want to talk about?"
    She fretted with her hands and had to make herself stop. "You're going to get better."
    His voice was flat. "No, I'm not. The doctor says my spinal cord's been severed.
    It won't heal, they never do. I'm crippled for life. I'm screwed, that's a simple fact. So don't stand there with that little bump on your head and tell me I'm going to get better."
    Her throat choked with grief. "I'm sorry."
    He turned his head the other way. "I don't want your sympathy."
    "What do you want?"
    "To be left alone. Get out of here and don't come back."
    Finally her tears came; she couldn't stop them.
    "You don't mean that."
    He turned his head back in her direction. His eyes were red, with anger as well as pain. "But I do, Jean. I can't stand to see you walking around while I'm stuck here in this bed."
    "Damn you!" she yelled. "That's not fair! Just because I'm not