This Is Me...

  “I don't think you did anything wrong, Suzanne. You have just suffered a series of events beyond your control, for which you must struggle, and get past.”

  “Oh, fuck me-”

  “Let me finish!”

  “Fine, FINISH!”

  “Suzanne, you have to stop all this upset, and desperation and self-pity.”

  “But I am upset, and desperate, and full of self-pity! Look. At. Me.”

  “I'm looking! I see you, but I don't think you can see yourself anymore. You are beyond the face, Suzanne. You always were. You were intelligent and strong, and yes weak, but then strong again. You were loving and sad and beautiful, and you made us all love you so much that we your people, your two Kaylas, your Mack, and especially your Z- you have made us all die and weep for you for months! Months Suzanne!”

  “But-”

  “I'm not blaming you for the accident or for the coma, I'm just trying to get you to understand that we four people, and even that prick Marcus have been dying for you, each and every fucking day since the accident. We've been dying for you since BEFORE the goddamn accident. We love you, and we will do anything for you; we will care for you however you need because we love you with or without your beautiful face. But that's it! That's the only thing missing here; your flawless face. The rest of you is in there. Trapped in shock and sadness right now, but it IS there. I see it in your eyes- god, your beautiful eyes which seem to glow even brighter now through the facial damage. It's you we love Suzanne, not your fucking skin!” Flinch! “So please wake up. We will help you, but you need to wake the hell up now. You need to accept our help or you may lose us forever. You may finally find yourself as alone as you believe yourself to be!”

  Holy shit! I don't think Mack has ever swore at me before. He's just too kind, or caring, or nice, or just too Mack to ever swear at me. Shit.

  “But, I don't know what to do,” I whisper.

  Turning my face in his hands, Mack leans in close, kisses my lips gently and whispers, “Just wake up, and we'll help you. This life of yours is too big for just you to handle right now, but you have us here to help you. We want to help you. We have all given up so much to help you. So let us.”

  “I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying. I mean, I know you're here at the hospital, but what have you given up for me? Well, other than your sanity, of course.” I grin, but Mack doesn't smile back. He looks so angry at me suddenly, I'm scared.

  “Kayla has totally screwed up her job in New York so she could be here as often as she is on week-ends. I moved to Chicago for Christsake to be with you once you were moved; just so I could be near you when you woke up. I gave up my position at the hospital, and I've lost all my tenure to be here for you. Kayla cut back her hours at Petri-Dunn so she had more time to sit here with you, and Z... God, Z put his apartment on the market the minute you were moved to Chicago. Z picked up the very second the court agreed to Marcus' demand for the move. Z is here in Chicago, completely alone and stuck, just waiting for you to wake up for him.”

  “I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean. I'm awake. I'm here. What am I supposed to do?”

  “You're not here. You may be awake, but your desperation is keeping you from us and us from you. You are NOT awake yet.”

  “I am, I just don't feel anything but ugly, and desperate and lonely, and so sad again all the time. I'm just so sad again, Mack.”

  “I know, Suzanne. I know you're sad, but it's not like before. Remember before? You were having a nervous breakdown. But you are NOT suffering from that this time. This isn't a nervous breakdown. This is a shock that must be dealt with, that's all. You don't feel anything yet because you're still freaked out. But if you try to live past the obvious physical trauma you will slowly begin to feel again, I promise.”

  “How? I'm sorry if this sounds shallow or stupid to you, but I'm just so gross. I'm a girl, and I'm supposed to be pretty, or good looking, or at the very least decently plain. I'm not supposed to be hideous,” I cry.

  “You're not hideous.”

  “Oh, come on, Mack! Be honest with me. I AM hideous. I'm a girl who wants to be pretty, but I'm not. I want to be beautiful like grandma Tommy and now I'll never be,” I sob.

  “Grandma Tommy, Suzanne?” he questions.

  “My mother's mom- grandma Tommy. She was so beautiful, Mack. Everyone thought so. She was so beautiful and special, and I wanted to be just like her so bad. I wanted to BE her so badly. She was the most amazing woman I have ever known. The most beautiful woman I've ever known. Everyone thought so. I have her coloring, but I don't look like her. And now I never will,” I cry silently.

  “You may not look like her but you ARE beautiful Suzanne. You are a light that I love and that everyone loves. Think of how many people have fought for you. Think of how hard we have all fought for you. Christ! Even Marcus, who I can't stand, has fought so hard for you- it's almost commendable, except for the fact that I hate him,” he laughs.

  Giggling, I nod my agreement. Marcus is a whole crazy complex issue for me as well. I love him like a friend, but dislike him like an enemy. His potential scares me but the memory of his presence comforts me as well. Christ! The Suzanne/Marcus adventure is truly exhausting.

  Whispering, Mack asks, “Do you want to look again, Suzanne? Or is that enough for now?” Catching my breath, I nod, and then realize he doesn't know what I'm agreeing to.

  “Okay. I want to see me,” I exhale.

  Standing slowly with me, Mack's knee cracks and I grin. Raising me gently from the floor, my legs are so weak I have to hold onto Mack for dear life. Turning me, I hide my face in his chest for another moment to collect myself.

  Breathing slowly, I wait until I feel steady. But Mack doesn't say a word; he just continues to hold me until I'm ready.

  After forever, I finally turn my head to look in the large mirror over the sink. Jesus Christ! It's as bad as I remember. It's shocking really. It's like half my body was dunked in acid, while the other half stayed out in the crisp clean air. And my left thigh is totally warped, like a huge piece of it is missing.

  “Explain how this happened exactly. All of it,” I question while staring at my half burned, scarred face.

  “Um, from what I understand, the truck hit the driver side door, shattering the window and door up against you. You were essentially crushed against the door, with your leg pinned underneath the front of the truck. The grill, actually. So no one from the other side of the car could just pull you out.” Well, that explains the missing hunk out of my thigh.

  “It was quick though, relatively speaking. There were police who heard the accident, so they and an off duty paramedic responded quickly. The fire department was third on the scene, followed by the paramedics. Within minutes, a small engine fire eventually started in the truck. So you were trapped against the front of the truck, while it started heating up and eventually caught fire.

  “...The paramedic on scene attempted to amputate your leg to remove you quickly but the fire department arrived in time to put out the small fire. And though you were quite burned on your side in the process, it wasn't from the actual flames, but rather from the heat of the engine fire. Once the fire was out, the Fire Rescue Squad was able to remove the truck grill, the door, and eventually you. Again, I'm told fairly quickly.”

  Nodding, I'm so calm right now it's kind of freaky. I thought I'd be all nuts, or crying or something. But Mack was so calm relaying the information, I find myself calmly absorbing all the information from him in turn.

  “What about the other driver? Was he burned?”

  “No. He wasn't hurt, and he managed to get out okay.”

  “Oh, good. Why was I in a coma again?”

  “Presumably, from the impact of the collision against your head and side. You were pronounced dead at the scene, but shortly thereafter you were found to be alive with a faint heartbeat, so you were rushed to Manhattan Mercy. It was then that Marcus received his call, and he presumed you were in fact d
ead, or about to be. And so he called Kayla, mistakenly telling her you had died. From there she called me, and I immediately called Z.”

  Pausing, Mack seems to be living a nightmare of his own in this moment. His eyes are so dark suddenly, I can only stare at him through the mirror in silence.

  In a whisper I finally ask, “Was it really bad, Mack? Like for you? It's okay. You can tell me if you want to. I'm okay right now.”

  Exhaling, Mack groans, “Yes, Suzanne. It was really bad.”

  “What was?” The accident? My face?

  “God, everything... There was just so much confusion and panic. We thought you were dead, and then Kayla and I couldn't find which hospital your body had been taken to. Then Kayla called Chicago Kayla who was screaming in her office, running from work to get to us. When I called Marcus, he was so calm- almost vegetative in his replies to my questions. And then I found the hospital you were taken to and the ER nurse told me you were in fact alive, though barely and already in surgery, so I called Kayla back and she met me at the hospital and Z... We couldn't get in touch with Z again.”

  Mack suddenly just stops speaking. Looking at me, his eyes are filled with tears, and he looks so pale I want him to stop.

  “It’s okay, Mack. You don't need to tell me anymore.”

  “Actually, I think I should. You need to understand this. You need to get it, Suzanne.”

  “I do. I promise.”

  “Suzanne we were so scared. So absolutely devastated, Kayla and I just stood together in shock. I called Marty who rushed to the hospital as well, but no one could reach Z. He just wouldn't answer his bloody phone.”

  “Once we knew a little about your condition, and once we knew the surgery would take a few hours, I finally left Kayla with Marty. I remember running down the hallway. I remember bumping into a man and apologizing. I remember nothing about the cab ride, and I remember nothing about reaching Z's apartment but the fear I felt.”

  “Mack, please stop. I-”

  “No. Listen to me. Let me finish this, okay?”

  Nodding, I stare at his beautiful face in the mirror while holding on tightly. Rubbing his back with my hand I'm desperate to comfort him in this moment.

  “When I threw open Z's door, I had a moment of true terror. In the silence of his apartment, I was sure I was burying if not one probably two friends that day. I didn't know what I would find, but I was sure he was gone. Pausing for a moment, I turned my head and there he was. Sitting in a chair, with a bottle of liquor between his legs, his head was hung with his shoulders collapsed around him.”

  Oh god... I know Z doesn't really drink. Just a glass of wine once in a while, but he never drinks often or too much. And he would never sit with a bottle in his lap unless...

  “When Z turned his head to me, I couldn't believe the look on his face. Z was death in that moment. That's all there was. I remember thinking if Suzanne isn't already dead- Z is dead right now in front of me. So I yelled, 'She's still alive! Z! She is still alive. She's in surgery, but alive.' And that was all it took. Z jumped from the chair and ran for the door. Pushing me out of his way he ran, and all I remember was how loud the door sounded as I slammed it shut behind us.

  “... And that was it. He yelled and cursed at the cab driver, but we made it to the hospital quickly. And Z ran. I remember thinking, Z is running for her. If he can get there in time, she'll live for him. I remember thinking; this is what she'll need. Not me or the Kaylas, but Z. I remember whispering to Kayla, 'She will live for him.' And you did.”

  Oh god... This hurts my heart.

  “Before Marcus arrived and took over control as your ‘next of kin’ Z was allowed to see you in between surgeries. Z saw you and spoke to you, and begged you and loved you. Kayla shook and wept listening to him speak to you, and Marty held us all together until Chicago Kayla and Marcus arrived. But Z made you live. I'm sure of it.”

  Crying, Mack turns his lovely face to mine and I hug him even tighter. Whispering, 'I’m sorry', Mack's shushes me again, and buries his face in my hair.

  This is unbelievable. This is a movie. This is a scene from the best novel I have ever read. This is so beautiful in its tragedy.

  Waiting for his nightmare to pass, Mack slowly shakes his head and continues this tale.

  “You had massive cranial bleeding and swelling, and because of the blood thinners you had been on since the rupture last year, the bleeding wouldn't stop. You were taken back into surgery quickly, where...” pause “you were pronounced with minimal to no brain function, until the surgical Neurologist found a slight reaction to stimuli. So you were operated on while the Ortho team repaired the crushed bones in your leg, and the Plastics team began your skin grafting and skin repair for the burns, which were only 3rd degree on just under 30% of your body- the rest of the burns being 2nd and 1st degree, and already mostly healed today.”

  “Oh. It seems like so much more than 30%.”

  “Well, because part of the burn is on your face, you're focusing on that part and that's why you feel like you're burned more than you actually are... Not to diminish what you're feeling. It's just if the burns were covered, you probably wouldn't find them as noticeable, and therefore, they wouldn't seem as great as they actually are.”

  “It's just so ugly, Mack...” I whisper on a slight exhale.

  “It really isn't Suzanne, and you're scheduled for more cosmetic surgery and more laser surgery to your face and neck in 2 weeks. The last facial graft will help hide more of the burn, and it'll help cover some of the red and white burn of your cheek and neck.”

  Staring, I'm absolutely mesmerized by my blue eyes. Well, actually, just my left blue eye. Surrounded by the red of my face and all the white crisscross-type skin markings, the blue looks like it glows. It's kind of freaky the way my eye seems to glow out of my face. I wouldn't say it’s attractive, but more shocking. I can't help but stare at my own eye, so others must find it extra weird or totally freaky too.

  Strangely I'm reminded of those tooth whitening commercials were the before teeth- all nasty and yellow- are surrounded by pink or bronze lipstick. Then suddenly the after 'whitened' teeth are surrounded by luscious red lips. But everyone knows red lipstick makes our teeth look whiter, so they're not actually fooling us. Ha! I'm still a moron sometimes, honestly.

  “What are you thinking about? You're very calm and quiet Suzanne, and it's freaking me out here,” he says with a cheeky grin.

  Smiling, I gaze at his face in the mirror. “My eye looks really bright and kind of see-through now that it’s surrounded by all the red.”

  “Your eyes are beautiful Suzanne- they always have been.”

  Gulping, I'm ready to stop looking for now. I have a lifetime to get used to this new, gross Suzanne.

  “You must be tired from holding me up all this time.”

  “I'm fine. We can stay here for longer if you want. Anything you need, Suzanne. Don't worry about me,” he says softly.

  “I'm ready Mack. Please help me back to my bed. I just need to rest for a while, okay?”

  Nodding, Mack tightens his grip on my arms and helps me walk out of the bathroom. Passing the wheelchair he continues until he helps me gently rise onto my bed. Getting settled, we both move my bad leg closer to the middle, and Mack helps prop me up against my right side as I settle in. Pulling the blankets over my body and up to my shoulders, Mack leans against my back for a minute.

  Nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said. I feel him against me, and I just soak up all the warmth and love he gives me.

  “It’s okay, Mack. You can leave. I'm trying to wake up now.”

  “Okay, Suzanne. You go to sleep while you try to wake up for me.” Grinning at his stupidity of words I giggle slightly, while Mack laughs and kisses the back of my head.

  Leaving my side, he walks across the room, turns once and whispers, “I love you very much, Suzanne.”

  Nodding, “I know Mack and thank you. I promise I'll start trying.”

  A
nd with a smile he turns from me, quietly opening and closing the door behind him.

  Once the door closes, I release the breath I've been holding and begin crying.

  I'm impressed with my tears. They're the silent continuous kind of tears that don't really make a sound. They don't choke or gag me. They don't make confessions, or promises that can't possibly be upheld. They don't scream and cry to the heavens for all that is wrong. They don't beg and plead for redemption from this life. These tears just fall continuously, endlessly, yet quietly from my eerily bright, glowy blue eyes.

  These are the tears I've had before and remember well. These are the tears of desperation for another nightmare I have to face, and will sadly be forced to face whether I want to or not. These are simple, continuous, quiet tears of desperate resignation for this crazy, horrific little life of mine.

  CHAPTER 26

  JUNE 26

  It's been over two weeks since I last saw Z. Two loooong weeks. And I miss him terribly, I know I do. I had such a short period of time with him, such a limited time to kiss him and to just look at him knowing he loved me. And it was so amazing, but so damn short.

  Things with the baby haven't changed for me. I still don't want it, and I still won't keep it, but I've accepted the fact that I'm actually pregnant now. I've had to.

  Against my will, I'm getting a bigger lower belly which is a constant torturous reminder that there's a baby in my body. Oh, and every single person who enters this room talks about it, asks about it, or stares at it, so it’s kind of hard to forget I'm knocked up.