Four

“Emma …?”

Dust mites floated through the air, illuminated by rays of sunlight streaming through the far window. Emma felt a breeze on her bare skin. It was gentle and smelled fresh. Everything was amplified. Emma’s memories of the world were under a cloud of gray, so far-off and unreachable she forgot the idea of clean air and bright lights and sensations that were anything other than dull. Now everything was almost too much. She felt the sheets beneath her, soft and cool, and grasped at them with fingers that did not remember their strength.

“Emma!”

She blinked, her vision clearing. Someone leaned over her. Their silhouette was too-close, and she shied away.

“Wait, Mrs. Arrington, hold on.”

The shadow moved. Another took its place. Warm fingers touched her forehead and pushed her hair back; Emma blinked again. The silhouette began to take shape, and the room around her cleared as her vision widened, focusing less on the lights and the dust and more on actual shapes. A room she remembered as hers—the nightstand on her right, closet behind it, window on the left to let in the light of the sunrise, walls painted soft blue to match her curtains—slowly began to reemerge. Emma felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Emma, can you hear me?”

She nodded. The person above her wore a white coat, and Emma recognized the voice as Dr. Lain’s. The warm hand on her head receded.

“Don’t try to speak,” Dr. Lain said. “You still have the feeding tubes and respirator in you. Give us a moment.”

Emma noticed the tubes now. Thick and plastic and layered with a strange taste, shoved down her nose and throat like some alien probe; the sensation of their presence had been so vague before. Now the urge to cough overtook her. She swallowed and gagged on the aftertaste.

“Stay calm. Matt will have those out of you soon. Just relax.”

Emma nodded again and tried to focus on something else. Mom, somewhere off to the right, murmured gentle words. Jake’s voice replied in a tone just as low. Emma couldn’t make out what they said, but the knowledge of their presence alone was comforting.

“You’re in a minor state of shock,” Dr. Lain continued, “Which is normal. You’ve been asleep for a long time. Do you remember?”

Emma nodded for a third time.

“All of this must be a sensory overload for you, so just focus on your breathing. Matt’s going to get those tubes out now. Matt?”

Dr. Lain moved back. Matt’s silhouette, a bit clearer, took her place. Emma could see light green scrubs and brown hair. His hair was a bit curlier than she imagined, but she got the color right. Matt put a hand on her shoulder and said something about holding still. Emma hadn’t planned on moving anyway. She felt a tug, and a bit of a sting as Matt took off the tape securing the tubes. The need to cough returned. She held out, squeezing her eyes shut as the tubes were pulled out, out, out. And gone.

She coughed, gagging on the cotton of her tongue. Her mouth felt dry and stale.

“Emma!” Mom gasped.

She shook her head. It was hard to breathe through her mouth, so she settled on breathing through her nose for the time being. Something on her right arm stung. She swallowed and coughed again, the violence of it making her head pound. A bitter taste welled up in the back of her throat and she tried to put a hand to her chest, but her right arm simply tensed and went limp. Damn it. She struggled to speak.

“Wa … water …”

“Mrs. Arrington?” Dr. Lain asked.

“I’ll go get her some.”

Mom’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. Emma tried to steady herself and focused her gaze on the ceiling. It was a popcorn ceiling, the same as always. When she was younger, she used to form patterns out of the little paper-like pieces with Dad before she went to bed, drawing figures and words and constellations into her personal sky. It hadn’t changed at all. She could still see the word hello and the stars that made up Cassiopeia. The familiarity calmed her. Off to the side, the heart monitor resumed a steady tempo.

“Here you go, honey.” Mom’s silhouette took the place of Matt’s. Emma saw the outline of a glass with a straw in it. She tried to lift her head, but it was too much. Everything ached. Matt moved forward to help her; with their combined effort, Emma was able to take a few slow sips.

“Better?” Mom asked.

Emma smiled as Matt gently lowered her head down. “Th-thanks, Mom.”

She didn’t reply, but Emma heard her soft sob.

“Emma,” Dr. Lain said, standing at the foot of her bed. “You said you remembered what happened? Do you remember being asleep?”

“Yes. I—I remember.”

Dr. Lain’s eyes widened in surprise. Emma could see her face clearly now; she looked just as imagined, though her features were a bit more pointed, and her eyes were almond in shape. She was beautiful, in a fierce sort of way. “You remember all of it?”

“I could hear you … all of you, the whole time, though some of it is kind of, um, unfocused.” Words began to return to Emma, the way they formed around her lips, their sound, the cadence of her voice as it shifted and fell. It was all coming back. Still, they got stuck in her throat, and her chest ached. “I was asleep for twenty-one years … right?”

“Yes. You’re thirty-four now.”

Tears sprang to Emma’s eyes again. “Where’s Mom?”

“Right here.” Mom moved back into her line of sight, her expression on the verge of crumbling. “I’m right here, sweetie.”

“I—I missed you.”

Tears ran down Mom’s cheeks. “I missed you, too.”

“I always wanted t-to reply, when you asked, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I was stuck in that room and I couldn’t—”

“What room?” Dr. Lain interrupted.

“The-the white room in my head. That’s where I was.”

“And you could hear everything from there?”

Emma nodded, blinking to clear her vision. “I don’t … know why, but even though I existed there and couldn’t see anything else, I heard everything.”

Mom’s tears increased tenfold. “Then you heard me, a few days ago, when I … when I gave up on you.”

“Mom …” A pang of bitterness.

“I should have known. I should have stayed with you no matter what.” She gave a heaving, breathy sob and pulled away, out of Emma’s sight. In her place, an somewhat familiar young man came into view. Emma felt the breath leave her lungs all at once.

“Jake?”

Whereas Mom didn’t look much different, just a few more wrinkles and gray hairs than before, Jake was nothing like she remembered. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a mess of scruff along his jaw. He still had the same jet-black hair and blue eyes, just like his sister, but he’d let his hair grow a bit and curl at the edges, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sat perched at the end of his nose. He was twenty-eight now; Emma couldn’t believe it.

“Jake?” she asked, her voice still raspy. She reached out, and he took her hand with a smile. “Look at you … all grown up.”

“Same to you, Em.”

Emma smiled, but it was sad.

Jake’s voice was calm, but his eyes swam with emotion. “How long until she can get out of bed?” he asked.

Dr. Lain shook her head. “Her muscles will have atrophied, at the very least. It will take a while, probably years, for her to regain her full strength. Can you lift your head, Emma?”

“… Sort of. Not really.”

“And your arms?”

She nodded. “But they’re very weak.”

“That’s to be expected.” Dr. Lain frowned down at the clipboard in her hand; Emma hadn’t noticed it before. “First things first, how are you feeling? You should still be in shock, so we need to make sure you don’t panic.”

Emma took a moment, focusing on herself. She was emotional, but she didn’t feel like she was in shock. “I feel … okay.”

“Okay?”

“I don’t know. I feel calm.”

Dr. Lain wrote something down on her clipboard. “That might just be because reality hasn’t set in yet. Matt,” she said, turning to the nurse, “Make sure to keep an eye on her psychological state. When we take her in, I want us to get a full psych run-up.”

“Do you want me to get that set up now?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Jake interrupted. “Are you taking her in now?”

Dr. Lain lowered her clipboard, frowning. “Your sister just woke after being in a coma for twenty-one years. We need to take her in and get her a complete physical before we can even think about moving forward.”

“But—”

“This is not something that can be discussed. I was lenient while Emma was being given the Levodopa, but now that she is awake, she needs to be examined. At the very least, she’ll need to stay overnight. We can provide transport to the hospital.”

“Can’t we drive her there? The ambulances cost so much …”

Emma cringed. The hospital bills are too much.

“Your insurance will cover it.”

“Doctor—”

“Jake,” Mom said, cutting him off, “It’s fine, and Dr. Lain is right. Emma will need to be taken in. She … she hasn’t been awake in so long.” A fresh bout of tears spilled from her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.

Jake sighed. “Mom and I will follow behind the ambulance.”

“Good.”

Emma took a few deep breaths. Everything was moving too fast. She had just woken up, and now she was getting transported to the hospital for a physical. She imagined they would run tests on her and keep watch over her for any changes. The thought of spending the night in a hospital was not a fun one, but she didn’t appear to have much of a choice in this.

Dr. Lain called emergency transport from the hospital, and Emma was loaded in on a gurney by two EMTs. She noticed the medical tape on her wrists and ankles as she was moved and asked about it. Dr. Lain said she had bedsores despite their efforts to avoid them. Apparently, they came from being in bed from so long.

As Emma was wheeled out of her house—it seemed pretty unchanged on the inside, save from a few new pictures and maybe new carpeting—she caught a glimpse of a cloudless, cerulean sky before the dull metal of the ambulance roof blocked it out. One of the EMTs sat beside her while another got in the front. Emma closed her eyes and tried her best to keep her breathing steady.

“Feeling all right?” The EMT beside her asked. The badge on his sleeve only had his last name and first initial, R. Sherman.

Emma nodded. “Just … just a bit lightheaded. And my chest hurts.”

He frowned. “Your chest hurts?”

“Like … it feels kind of tight.”

“Damn. Well, look.” He scooted closer and leaned over her. “My name is Ross. Can you do me a favor and breathe with me?”

“Breathe? Why?”

“Just follow my lead.” He breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth.

Unsure but deciding to just go with it, Emma did as he asked, breathing in and out, in and out. As she did, the tension in her chest began to decrease, and her head didn’t feel as light as before. How strange.

The ambulance stopped then, and Ross smiled at her as he opened the ambulance doors and climbed out. He was joined by the other EMT, whose name-tag read T. Martinez. She also offered Emma a calming smile.

Again, Emma got just a glimpse of the sky before the gurney was wheeled into the hospital. Dr. Lain showed up beside her along the way, clipboard still in hand, and gave orders to the two EMTs. Emma was wheeled into a rather standard-looking hospital room and hooked up yet again to a heart monitor and IV. The nurse was instructed to keep an eye on the Levodopa drip, and then Emma was left alone. Her chest started to hurt again. Anxiety rose up in her, only to be quelled as Mom and Jake walked into the room.

“Em,” Jake said, “Are you feeling okay?”

“A bit … breathless.”

“Yeah. Dr. Lain said you almost had a panic attack in the ambulance, but one of the EMTs calmed you down.”

“A panic attack?”

“It’s what happens when someone just starts panicking a lot—they can’t breathe, their chest hurts, they get tunnel vision and light-headed. That sort of stuff.”

Emma thought back to the trip over in the ambulance. Her chest did hurt, and she felt lightheaded too. That must have been why the EMT, Ross, had her breathe with him; it was probably to calm her down.

“Are you feeling better now?” Mom asked. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair mussed.

“A bit. This is just all … so much.”

Mom nodded, her hands clenched to her chest, and said nothing else.

Dr. Lain came back soon after and ordered a multitude of tests. Emma was made to sit still as she was jabbed with needles and pushed through a variety of MRIs and scans. She met so many nurses and doctors, each with a new last name to tack onto their title, and eventually it just became a blur. Emma started to wonder if she was dreaming.

“All right,” Dr. Lain said, “Emma, that’s the last of the tests for today. I’m going to give you a quick physical, discuss your future diet with your mother, and get a few other things smoothed out. But after that, you can get some sleep. Sound good?”

Emma’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, please.”

Dr. Lain did as she said and gave Emma a quick, simple physical, going over different things with her and explaining how they dealt with her menstrual cycle while she was asleep. Thankfully, Emma had been an early bloomer and got her period when she was eleven, so she already knew all about that. After her physical check-up was done, Dr. Lain took Mom to talk over some things, and Emma was left with just Jake and Matt. She hadn’t really gotten to talk to Matt since she woke up; it felt weird to say something now, but she knew she would have to eventually.

“Hey, Matt?”

The nurse moved into her field of view and gave her a crooked smile, just as she imagined. “So you know my name? I didn’t think you would.”

“Yeah, like I told Dr. Lain earlier … I heard everything while I was asleep.”

Matt hesitated, his face a bit red. “Everything?”

“Well, I mean … some parts are a bit unfocused, and I doubt I remembered everything from—from all twenty-one years. That’s a lot to remember.”

“Oh, right.” Matt shrugged. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you in person, Emma.”

Emma smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Morgan called the other day by the way,” Jake said, moving closer again. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but everything else was so hectic, so … yeah. Anyway, she said she was going to drop by the house and see you soon.”

“Does she know …?” Emma trailed off, frowning.

“No. That was before we got the diagnosis.”

Emma hesitated. She wanted to see Morgan, but she couldn’t think of a good way to explain everything without springing it on her. Morgan was her best friend, the only one who truly stayed by her side—she even outdid Emma’s own mother.

“I’d like to see her, but … how are we going to explain this?”

Jake shrugged. “Just tell the truth?”

“No, I mean, I don’t want to shock her, you know?”

“Yeah.” Jake frowned. “Hm, well, she did call earlier. I can return the call and ask when she’s coming over. Then I guess we can ease her into it from there?”

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Em, I …” Jake hesitated, an odd emotion Emma didn’t recognize on his face. “Um, never mind. I’ll be right back.”

Emma nodded, though she got the distinct impression that he wanted to say something else just then. She watched as Jake stepped out of the hospital room. In his wake, Matt sat down beside her and sighed.

“What?” Emma asked.

He shook his head. “Just … I don’t know. This is so much to take in. It seems like everything happened so quickly, the diagnosis, the medicine, and now you’re just here with us. I mean, I’ve only been your nurse for the past few years, but still.”

Emma gave him a sad smile. “You’re telling me.” The world she knew for the past twenty-one years was gone, disintegrated the moment she opened her eyes. Everything she was used to, the heightened sounds and knowledge of space without seeing it, was so different in the spans of just a few moments. She felt misplaced even more now that she was no longer in her bedroom. Everything outside the hospital was unfocused, too jarring to really register. In her head, the house where she grew up and the hospital room she was in now were the only places that existed in the whole universe.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did it feel like when you were asleep?” Matt asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Um …” Emma really didn’t want to think about it, but she figured Matt had asked out of scientific curiosity. “Well, like I said before, I was trapped in this strange white room. I was just drifting most of the time. It was frustrating, and scary. I thought …” she trailed off.

“What?” Matt urged.

“No, nothing.”

Matt frowned. “You said you were drifting most of the time. What does that mean?”

“It was kind of like I was just existing. I didn’t really think or react, I just let my consciousness fade out. It was the closest I could get to sleeping.” Emma hesitated, a thought occurring to her. “Hey, this is going to sound weird, but is there a mirror I could use?”

“A mirror? What for?”

“Well, I haven’t … I haven’t seen myself, you know.” Emma could see her arms and legs and torso, and even a bit of her hair; it was much longer than she remembered, but still the same color of midnight black. “I want to know what I look like now.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m going to have to eventually.”

Matt stared at her a moment before he nodded and stood. “Well, all right. I’ll go find one.” He stepped out of the room as well, and Emma gave herself a chance to look around the place. As she had noticed before, it seemed pretty standard as far as hospital rooms go. The bed she was in was comfortable enough, with clean white sheets and a soft blanket over top. A few chairs surrounded a small coffee table in one corner, a dusty TV was mounted on the wall opposite her—just like the one she had when she was a kid—and a large window to her right was covered by long, thick blinds. Everything was a strange color that wasn’t quite white but wasn’t quite cream either, more of an in-between that made everything looked washed-out.

Matt came back then, holding a little mirror in one hand. He stopped beside the bed and gave Emma a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, then.” He held out the mirror.

Emma stared at him a moment, inhaled slowly, and then took the mirror and raised it.

… That can’t be me.

She expected to look different, of course. After twenty-one years, that much was obvious, but she wasn’t quite expecting how different she looked. Her skin was pale and a bit sallow, her cheeks sunken and collarbones visible above the collar of her hospital gown. Strangely, there weren’t many lines and wrinkles in her face, but her age was obvious in the lack of baby fat and the angularity of her bone structure. Emma put a hand to her face, trailing it over unfamiliar skin. Her eyes were still blue, her hair still black, and she could see some of her old self in the set of her eyes and the quirk of her lips, but everything else was so different.

“Emma?” Matt asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah … yeah, I just … is that really how I look?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Emma started and looked up at Matt. Beautiful? She was about to say more, prolong the conversation, but then Jake came back in and the moment was over.

“Hey, Em” Jake said. He held a shiny, black rectangle in one hand. “I got a hold of Morgan. She has work the rest of the week, but she’ll come by as soon as possible.”

Emma sat back, ignoring the hesitation on Matt’s face as he took the mirror from her and set it down on the coffee table. “Oh, okay. That’s fine. Um, what’re you holding?”

“My phone.” Jake held up the black rectangle. Emma stared at it, starting a bit when part of it lit up like a computer screen.

“Your phone?”

“Oh.” Jake laughed a bit, but it sounded flat. “Sorry, it’s a smartphone. An iPhone, to be exact. You can carry it around without worrying about cords or anything.”

Emma’s mind reeled. She felt the echoes of culture shock as she took the iPhone and studied it for a moment. It was thin and lightweight, its screen made of glass and seemingly sensitive to the touch. A white-ish line of text toward the bottom of the screen said Press Home to unlock. The background looked a bit generic. After scrutinizing the phone for a moment, Emma gingerly handed it back to Jake.

“That thing is weird.”

He smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”

“… I guess.”

“These things take time,” Matt said. “But you’ll be fine, Emma. You’ll make it.”

Emma smiled at him. She wanted to share that optimism, but she already felt so out-of-place just being somewhere other than her bedroom. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like when she finally went out into the world.

“Thanks, Matt.”

That night, Emma laid in the hospital bed and stared up at the ceiling. Jake had gone home; Mom was still there, asleep in a chair in the corner. Her breathing was soft but rapid. Emma glanced at her before she raised one hand and held it up for a few moments; her hands were slim, her fingers long. They didn’t look like hers. She sighed and lowered her hand back to the bed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the midnight-black waves of her hair spread out across the sheets. It looked greasy and uneven; maybe she could get a haircut.

Dr. Lain said I was in a minor state of shock. Is this what it feels like?

She couldn’t quite focus on reality, on the fact that she was awake after so long. The leap in time she had taken sat in the back of her mind. She was afraid of what would happen if she started to think about it.

Moonlight slanted through the blinds of the hospital window. She could hear the gentle sounds of night—the absence of conversation, the hum of medical equipment that seemed to be a constant in her life, the occasional passing car outside, the soft musical notes of nighttime animals. When she was asleep, everything was muffled. The world was so clear now; it was almost too much. She could see the outline of the TV mounted on the far wall, the main door leading to the rest of the hospital, Mom’s sleeping silhouette—those were all normal things, okay things. But then there were the formless shapes she couldn’t identify, the ones that seemed to twist and undulate, forming monsters in the darkness.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked from their corners, dripping down her cheeks and dampening her blankets. Nothing is there. Nothing is there.

She was awake.