Three

“It’s called Levodopa,” said Dr. Lain. Her voice was smooth and strong, and Emma imagined her to have short hair and a stocky, muscular build. She said everything as if it was undeniable. In anyone else, this would have been an annoying trait, but it fit her. Emma doubted Dr. Lain would ever state anything as fact unless she was absolutely sure of its truth.

“Levodopa?” Mom echoed.

“It’s an antiparkinson medicine, and it has been used to treat previous cases of Encephalitis Lethargica since the symptoms are so similar. If this doesn’t produce a response, however, we will try Sinemet. That’s a mix of Levodopa and Carbidopa, so it’s a bit stronger. The Carbidopa helps steady the body’s response to the medication and ensure a longer lifespan.”

“Why not start out with the Sinemet, then?”

“It’s proven to have long-term side effects, so it’s generally only used if nothing else works. It’s more of a last resort, if you will.”

“How long will it take before we get a response?”

“It varies from case to case.” Dr. Lain must have messed with her IV, because Emma felt a dull sting in her right arm. “Once I hook the medicine up to her IV drip, it’ll take a few hours to fully cycle through her bloodstream. From there on, it shouldn’t take more than twelve hours at the absolute most. If we don’t get a response within that timeframe, we’ll switch to the Sinemet. Though …” she hesitated. “Mrs. Arrington, I know you already gave me your answer, but I think you should reconsider. It really would be best if we moved her to a hospital room where we could keep a closer eye on her.”

“Is it extremely necessary?”

“Not technically, but it is highly suggested—”

“Then no.”

“I know you’re struggling financially, but don’t you want the best for your daughter? The insurance will handle most of the bills.”

Mom didn’t reply. Emma continued to listen to the steady beep, beep of the heart monitor, ignoring the vague sensation of something touching her arm. Silence reigned. Emma heard Dr. Lain moving about to her right.

“All right, then. Everything’s set up.”

“So now we just wait?” Mom asked.

“Yes. I’ll send Matt over to keep tabs on her, and I’ll be on call the rest of the day. Let me know if anything changes, and I’ll be over ASAP.”

“Okay. Thank you, Doctor.”

Footsteps receded from the room. Emma knew Mom was still there, but she remained quiet. After a few moments, she left as well, and the room was again plunged into silence. Emma thought back to Dr. Lain’s comments on moving her to the hospital and Mom’s insistence against it.

The hospital bills are too much.

Emma’s mind drifted as time dragged on. She had existed in that empty room for so long that she was sure she would notice when something changed. After all, she noticed the recent blurriness right away. Surely she would notice if she started to wake up. But as the day passed and nothing changed, a part of her started to sink. The room was still unfocused, and nothing felt different. Maybe the doctors were wrong. People got false positives all the time; it was possible she didn’t have the Sleepy Sickness, and then the antiparkinson medicine wouldn’t work. It was possible this was all just a fever dream. Or maybe her original thought, that this was Hell, had been right.

What did I do to deserve this?

She forced herself to stop thinking about it, distraught with the endless possibilities, and held onto what little hope remained.

The day passed, slow. Emma drifted in and out of awareness. Matt was there now, but he was quiet. He would say something to himself every once in a while; it was always too quiet to hear, so Emma remained in her resting state. She supposed this drifting was the only thing that got her through twenty-one years of non-activity with her sanity intact. Then again, the blurriness of the white room could have been an indicator of her loosening grip on reality.

Mom came in a few times to ask how she was doing. “No change,” Matt would say, and Mom would sigh and leave. Sometimes, Jake came by and chatted with Matt. It was mostly things about their favorite bands and whatnot. They discussed their college majors, and shock hit Emma once more, pulling her from her drifting state.

If I’m thirty-four, how old is Jake?

Jake, her sweet younger brother. Jake, who pretended not to be afraid when he was, who loved Transformers and Lite-Brites, had been seven when she fell asleep. Now he was twenty-eight. Not only had Emma missed most of her life, she missed his too. She never got to tease him about girls or beam with pride when he graduated high school or college, she never got to hang out with him on Friday nights, watch movie and get pizza, or talk about all the things they’d never tell their parents. She had missed so much. Do I really want to wake up?

“When do you think something will happen?” Jake asked.

“Dr. Lain said we should wait twelve hours at the most, but if something’s going to happen, it should happen soon.”

“How soon?”

“I don’t know, Jake. A few hours, maybe.”

“It’s been three already.”

“I know.” Matt sighed. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s pacing in the kitchen again. I keep trying to get her to sit down and relax, but she hasn’t relaxed since the doctors started testing Emma for the Encepha-whatever.”

“Encephalitis Lethargica.”

“That’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“Some people just say EL.”

“That’s definitely easier. How do you think my sister got EL, then?”

“I don’t know. Doctors still can’t agree on what caused it. They originally thought it was connected to the Spanish Flu since it first showed up around the time of the epidemic in 1918, but they later discovered that none of the Spanish Flu’s RNA was present in the EL.”

“RNA?”

“Ribonuclelic acid. It’s what carries the genetic information of some viruses. Like DNA for diseases, you know? Anyway, when EL first showed up in 1918, it went largely unnoticed even though it was a large-scale epidemic because the Spanish Flu outnumbered its cases. I doubt that was the first time EL showed up, though; it probably existed long before and was just misdiagnosed.”

“But …” Jake sounded confused. “If they don’t know what caused the disease, then how can they treat it?”

“They treat it based on symptoms, which is why Emma was given an antiparkinson’s drug. A lot of the symptoms between EL and Parkinson’s are very similar.”

Something in Emma’s mind flashed. It was only for a moment, like someone snapping a picture right in front of her face, but it made her stomach clench. Is this it? She heard the usually-steady sound of the heart monitor speed up, and Matt gasped.

“What is it?” Jake asked. “What’s happening?”

“I … I don’t know. But I’ve never seen her BPM rise above sixty-eight.”

“It’s at seventy-three!”

Another flash. Emma wished she could turn away or shield her eyes; whatever the light was, it was too much. She tried to raise her arm.

“She just moved!”

“What?” Matt was right next to her now. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! Her fingers twitched!”

Matt was silent for a moment. Then, “Go get your mom. I’ll page Dr. Lain.”

Jake ran. Matt seemed to fiddle with something, rustling fabric as he moved, and then he put a hand on Emma’s forehead. His touch was warm and soft. “Emma?” he called, his voice as gentle as his touch. “Can you hear me? If you can, move something.”

Emma concentrated. The flashes were getting more frequent now, blocking out the whiteness of the empty room until all she knew was blinding light, but she could feel something there, something coming, and she focused on her hand and willed it to move.

“Oh my God,” Matt breathed.

“Matt!” Mom’s voice reached her, frantic and breathy. “What’s happening? Is she waking up?”

Emma wanted to speak. She wasn’t even sure if her voice would work after twenty-one years of disuse, but she had to try. Words formed in her mind. She attempted to push them through her lips, invigorated now. The white room was dissipating; all that remained were flashing lights in scintillating bursts.

“Mnnn …”

“Emma!” Mom sat on the bed and grabbed her hand. Emma felt the coldness of her skin and how her hands shook. “Matt, did you call Dr. Lain?”

“She—she’s on her way.”

“Emma, sweetie, it’s Mom. Talk to me, honey.”

“Unn …” The words wouldn’t come, but she could make a sound. She could move her fingers. The heart monitor sped up again and she felt her eyes flutter. She felt something rise in her chest as the knowledge of what was happening broke the surface. Her toes curled, and reality kicked in like a rush of cold air—she could move.

“Mrs. Arrington!” Dr. Lain’s steady voice broke through everything. How she got there that quickly, Emma was unsure. “Matt, what’s going on? What happened?”

“She’s responding, Doctor. It’s … it’s amazing.”

Emma wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to see something beyond an empty white room, beyond, even, those brilliant flashes of light that seemed to herald her awakening. She struggled against the invisible bonds that held her locked inside her head for so long.

“She’s fighting, Mrs. Arrington,” Dr. Lain said. “Call out to her.”

“Emma. Emma, come on, you can do it. I know you can. You always were so headstrong, just like your dad. You can make it. Keep fighting.”

“Come on, Em!” Jake piped up.

A chorus surrounded her, lifted her up. Emma felt the determination in her chest grow and strengthen. She curled her fingers and clenched her hands into fists. Mom choked out a sob, gripping at her hand. Jake prayed aloud. Dr. Lain and Matt were silent. Emma heard what sounded like a rush of air as the white room in her mind vanished. The heart monitor steadied, settling back into a familiar rhythm.

And Emma opened her eyes.