Whispered Beginnings

Will Spring Ever Come?

  Katelyn S. Irons

  It was the first day of spring. Cue mental images of snow melting, dewy pink petals opening, and nothing in the blue sky but brilliant sunshine. Now let me stop you. It wasn't like that at all. At least... Let me explain.

  Spring began for me in a room. A grey room. A grey room with yellow lights that stung my eyes and made trickles of tears seep from the corner of each.

  The table I lay on was cold. I could feel it through the thin material I was wearing. Metal or stone? I tried to wiggle so I could feel the surface. I couldn't move. Well... Maybe I could. But I couldn't feel any movement. I couldn't even tell where my hands were. My body was numb.

  I gasped for breath. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. My mind raced. Suddenly the smell of rubber filled my nostrils- it reminded me of the smell of new shoes. A cold blast of air filled my lungs. The cool air cooled my throat which was sore from gasping.

  I opened my eyes a slit, for they had squeezed shut again right after I saw the light. I saw a glimpse of a latex gloved hand and something around my mouth. My eyes shut again and refused to open.

  What was happening to me? I felt a tugging. Something wheedling at the skin. It wasn't exactly painful, but not comfortable. At least it was feeling, I thought. I concentrated on my arm. I had vague feeling. I couldn't identify it but there was something clamped on the finger of my right hand. There was a slight prick of pain near the inside of my elbow.

  I tried to open my mouth to ask the gloved hand who it belonged to. All that happened was a suction sound seemed to explode in the quiet room from my movement.

  "She's awake!" I heard a voice to my left shout. A warmth started spreading, seeming to slowly seep in.

  "She can't be. Look at her pulse. Slow. Steady." A voice said. I try to move again but failed. "It was just a twitch."

  "I can tell. She looks different." A gloved hand brushed the back of my own sending an explosion of electrifying tingles up my arm and my neck.

  "You're just observing. I know what I'm doing!"

  "I have just as much schooling as you, Dr. Garnet." The owner of the hand had a firm tone. Whatever drugs I had in my system were doing funny things to my sensations. Every time I heard that voice I felt a tingle on my neck.

  "You will listen to me, Dreannan. I'm in charge of this surgery-" The surgery! The memories came flooding back into my clouded mind. "-And I will do whatever it takes to continue. This tumor must be removed."

  Something drew at my attention away from their conversation. I heard a distinct and steady beeping. Then it clicked. My pulse- slow, steady. The warm spreading grew colder and tingles more and more. I wish I could raise pulse. I wish I could somehow tell them I was awake, awakening more every minute. I didn't want to feel anymore. My mind raced.

  I could now distinguish other things: the sound of tinking metal, the roughness of the fabric covering all but my neck and head, the pricks and tugs and odd pressures that told me the doctor was still working. I focused back into their conversation.

  "The tumor needs to be removed immediately," Dr. Garnet was saying. "Every second is delay that could cost the patient her life."

  "If the patient is awake we need to do something about it!"

  "Well the patient isn't showing any signs so I'm not going to do anything."

  "Dr. Garnet, please," the young doctor's tone had gotten more serious.

  "Why are you so sure there's something wrong?" I could feel the movements, the tugs, the pricks more distinctly now.

  "I don't know what it is. I just can tell with her." His hand rested on the table next to mine. I could feel the heat from him. Metal goes clink, tink. Then, I blinked.

  "What was that then!" Dreannan removed his hand.

  "My, my." Dr. Garnet said. "What an odd symptom. It must be something I am triggering in here."

  "Something you're doing?" I heard the young doctor knock something over. A woman's muffled scream. A cold burst of fluid filled the veins of my left arm.

  And that's all I remember.

  I awoke the next day slow, dreamy, fighting the urge to fall back asleep. The day wasn't doing much to help me wake up however. The cacophony of new sensations overwhelmed me. I opened my eyes slowly. Yellow sunshine streamed in through the small window splashing color onto the white of the hospital room walls.

  A glass of water lay next to me on a rollaway table. A man in a white lab coat holding a clipboard drew aside the curtain.

  "Dr. Garnet?" I whispered. My throat was raw.

  "No, I'm Dr. Jones. Dr. Garnet is temporarily on leave. He left right after your surgery."

  I gave a puzzled, tired look.

  "Do you want to talk to someone about the procedure?"

  I nodded, sat up, and drank some water. Dr. Jones left and a few seconds later another man entered. This man was dressed in a dark green long sleeved shirt and nice trousers.

  "If you're visiting my roommate," I motioned towards the curtained partition on the other side of the room. "I don't know when she will be back."

  "Actually, I'm here for you." The voice. His voice. It unnerved me, sending shivers down my neck.

  "I'm sorry you must mean someone else." I put the glass down and pulled my sheets up farther. I wasn't used to greeting strangers in a thin sheet of cotton.

  "No. I'm sure its you." Dr. Jones came in again.

  "Dr. Dreannan?"

  "Yes, Dr. Jones?"

  "Well that young lady you saved wanted to see you."

  "Dr. Jones?"

  "Yes, Dr. Dreannan."

  "Did you work the late shift last night?"

  "Yes." Dr. Dreannan put his hands on Dr. Jones' shoulders and adjusted him so I was in view. "Oh."

  "In Dr. Garnet's absence, I authorize you to go get some sleep." Dr. Jones exited the room quietly. He could've done backflips and I wouldn't have paid him any more attention. I was preoccupied with the man in front of me, the man who gave me shivers when he spoke, the man who's touch was electricity, the man who saved my life.

  "You should get up and get some fresh air." He handed me a robe. As soon as I tied it, he picked me up, making me feel like a schoolgirl. Once I was in the wheelchair he swaddled blankets around me and rolled me out to the patio.

  We sat. Me in the wheelchair and him on the concrete bench under the pink Okame cherry tree. He was so strong, all business, but there was something whimsical and kind about his eyes.

  "You removed the tumor?" My voice went hoarse again.

  "Dr. Garnet did the work. All I did was observe."

  "Don't forget. I was there." A slight breeze ruffled my robe. I felt it slip, exposing my throat and part of my chest.

  "You were," he mumbled. His eyes didn't leave mine. "Ah yes of course."

  "You said there was something different about me," I whispered. "Did you mean as a patient?"

  He touched my hand. "No. Not just a patient."

  He leaned down then and picked a bluebell. Reaching over, he tucked it behind my ear. I felt as if ice was running up my head and neck, leaving shivers and goosebumps behind. It gives me pleasure even today to think about that day.

  The calendar must have been wrong. Spring didn't begin in that room. That grey room. That grey room with the yellow lights. Spring began under the azure skies, surrounded by white lazy clouds mirrored in his green eyes.