Freefall

Third Chapter

At 6:oo a.m., I finally fell asleep without fear. At 10:00 a.m., I woke up again with a strange feeling.

When I opened my eyes, I realized why.

"Ahhhh!" I shouted at the strange face five inches from my own.

The man yelled in response and jumped back, hands up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Oh." It was the nurse I had seen in the hallway the day before. "Hi. I haven't seen you on this floor yet," I said, feeling to make sure there weren't too many knots in my hair. I squinted to see his name tag. "Malcolm."

The terrified look remained on his face until I said his name, and then all of the sudden he broke into a relieved grin, excited even. "You remember my name! I'm so glad."

I kind of felt bad for breaking the illusion. "You—you're wearing a name tag," I reminded him, clearing my throat as I did so.

"Oh." His face fell, as he looked down as if he had forgotten the fact. "Malcolm," he read aloud to himself. "Fancy that. Huh. Sorry. I guess you don't remember me."

"Did you change my IV or something?" I asked, half joking.

"IV? What, no. No. No, IV." Now he cleared his throat and glanced away.

The response made me feel awkward. "I'm sorry," I said, afraid I might have hurt his feelings.

"Oh, it's okay. I didn't really expect you to remember me. When you said my name, though, I just kind of thought maybe . . ." he trailed off and just stared at me without finishing.

I shifted and tried to escape the intenseness of his gray eyes. "Yes? Did you need something?"

He jumped and blinked. "Need something?"

"You're in my room . . ."

"Oh. Oh. Right! No, no, I don't need anything."

He stood there, clipboard dangling from his hands, looking around my room as if he had no intention of leaving.

"So you don't need something?" I pressed.

He looked back at me, appearing confused. "I just said that . . ." he trailed off and his eyes widened. "Right, of course. I'll get out of here. I'm sorry."

I watched him take awkwardly long strides until he had circumvented my bed and had made it to the door. He stopped when it was halfway open. Turning with an air of nonchalance, he questioned, "You meet with the psychiatrist today, don't you?"

"Um, yeah, I do," I said, too caught off guard to consider why he would be asking such a question.

He left the room without another word. I looked away, but when I glanced back, I thought I saw him looking in through the little window in my door. When I blinked, though, I saw nothing, and the next instant, the door was opened and Dr. Harris, er, Elliott, pushed his tall frame through the doorway.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Ross?" he asked, crossing the room to tower over me.

"Small," I told him, staring up at him with a suddenly dry mouth. And I think I started to blush.

He chuckled. "I'll sit down then. I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

When his back was turned to pull up a chair, I furiously patted at my hair with my one good hand, hoping that it wasn't sticking out in any haphazard directions. As soon as he faced me again, I let my arm dropped and smiled as pleasantly as I could.

"So. I have to tell you that I heard from some nurses that they saw your mom leaving your room in tears yesterday. Then, they said, a woman left shortly after with two little boys, also crying." He looked apologetic, as if he was sorry he had to bring it up.

"What can I say? I'm a pretty scary person. I can make children cry by just looking at them."

He raised his eyebrows. "And your mother?"

I sighed. "The woman was my sister. We had a . . . spat."

"A spat that made three people cry?"

"My nephews aren't even two yet," I said doubtfully. "It doesn't take a lot for them to cry. But, we might have raised our voices."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here. This, er, spat that you had with your sister had something to do with your jump from the Pierce Building?" He glanced at the notepad on his lap as he asked the question.

"Yes, it did."

Part of me felt strange sharing so much with a complete stranger, but the other part just stared at his broad shoulders and subconsciously answered all of his questions. I had a deep loathing for that side of me. That was the side of me that would have already been married, living in a modest house with my own little Grant and Freddy, and waiting for my husband to come home each night. Deep down, I knew that wasn't what I wanted.

I had to focus on my dream. On getting life back on track, and yes, Elliott could help me do that, so I needed to answer his questions. At least as well as I could.

"Would you like to share that with me?"

Begrudgingly, I admitted to the argument, though I wasn't proud of the part I played in it. When I was done, Elliott was leaning forward with a frown. He nodded.

"You've had a traumatic experience. Naturally, it is going to wear on both you and the ones you love. Perhaps you should give her a call later and apologize. Talking through this incident with me might help some, but you'll have to resolve it with her too."

What he said made sense, but the last thing I wanted to do was have another conversation with Lisa. Not if she was going to throw accusations around like she had yesterday.

"So, I know you said that you don't remember what happened before you jumped, but it's been a day or two since we last spoke. Has anything come back to you?"

I closed my eyes. As soon as I did so, I could feel the wind in my face like a cold slap. My hair was flying all over the place, and I felt freezing cold. I knew in a moment, I would feel myself hit the pavement again. My eyes flew open, and my heart was pounding.

I smiled at him apologetically. "No. Nothing's changed."

Elliott frowned. "That's a pity. I think that those memories could really help you. But I guess only time will tell. Why don't you tell me more about what was going on that week."

With an inaudible sigh, I thought back two weeks. It had been finals week of my last undergraduate semester. Sure, I was stressed, but my acceptance letter to med school had come during winter break, and so I had felt at ease in my classes. Also over winter break, my roommate had gotten engaged, and I had just gotten to meet her fiancé. I treated them to dinner the night before the incident.

When I told Elliott that, he began to question me about whether I had a boyfriend or not. I said I didn't, and he asked if that had anything to do with my nosedive.

I stared at him incredulously. "Not being in a relationship? No, no, that definitely could not be a contributing factor for me jumping off a building."

He almost looked embarrassed, and clicked his pen on and off against the notepad. "If not for you, then alright, but sometimes loneliness can be a very painful feeling. No one would think any less of you if it had to do with your suicide attempt."

"It wasn't a suicide attempt," I told him, frowning.

"Then what would you call it?" He looked at me seriously, elbows balanced on his knees.

What was up with intense gazes today. I swallowed and picked at a thread in my sheet. "Look, I didn't jump. I went to bed that night, and I never woke up until I was lying in this bed."

He stared at me for a moment longer before leaning back. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"If that's what you say then I believe you."

It sounded as if he actually meant it, and no one else made it sound like they actually meant it. "Thank you."

"Of course, Miss Ross."

"If I'm supposed to call you Elliot, you should just call me Meg."

"Alright, Meg."