"Who am I? And how, I wonder, will this story end?" Noah Calhoun
She sat in the armchair, looking out of the oversized windows upon the snow-covered mountains. She shivered slightly from the cold she could feel coming from the windows, pulling her sweater tightly around her. A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Good morning Miss M, how did you sleep last night?" the chipper nurse greeted her.
The nurse was middle aged, and the pigmentation of her skin mimicked that of a dark roast coffee bean. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her crisp nursing dress swooshed as she walked towards her, and her pristine white shoes squeaked slightly against the tile floor.
"I guess it was okay." She responded hesitantly. "I am in a great deal of pain though."
"That's alright honey, Nurse Faye is here with your pills to help with that pain."
Faye reached out to her and placed the cup into her hands then the water. She took the pills, their amount and textures scraping across the back of her throat like sandpaper, the water a welcomed comfort as it followed the intruders.
"Thank you Faye." She said handing the cups back to the nurse.
"Miss M we need to get you up and moving around today. Your physical therapist has personally put me in charge of making sure you don't sit in this chair all day."
"I don't know about that Faye. I think I'm fine right here." She fought back.
She had no motivation to move around. She wanted to sit at the window and gaze upon the whiteness of the landscape. It was all she could recall. Everyone would call her Miss M, but who was Miss M? Who am I? Why am I here? Where is here? All she could remember was waking up in a hospital bed in the most pain she had ever been in, or that she could remember being in. She would look in the mirror and see the discoloration of bruises on her face and body, with no idea how they got there. There was a small portion of hair that had been shaved of, it was beginning to grow back, where she was told a tube had been there previously.
"Miss M you need to …" two men walking through the door cut off the nurse's words.
"Good morning Faye." An older man sat a bag on table, removed his hat and set it on top. He walked up to the nurse and placed a kiss on her cheek. He was exquisitely dressed in a dark grey suit with a navy blue printed tie. She watched as he removed his black leather gloves, tucking them into the pockets of his heavy overcoat, that he removed, and draped it over the chair adjacent to hers.
He bent down and looked at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers, as if he was gazing upon her soul.
"Good morning sweetheart," she heard him say. "And how are you feeling today?"
"She said she was in a great deal of pain this morning." Faye responded to the older man. "She doesn't want to get out and around. I'm not sure she's up to anything."
"I think I might be able to change her mind." He said, as he motioned to his companion. "Grab the book from my bag please." The other man who had been standing motionless in the shadows could have easily been Nurse Faye's brother perhaps, he was as dark as she was, and until that moment, he'd gone unnoticed. He was tall, close to her age and dressed all in black. He handed the older man a red leather book with gold gilded pages.
"How about a walk to the conservatory. I will read to you, we can pick up where we left off," he offered.
"Oh, I don't know. I kind of like it here." She responded, feeling like a broken record, repeating the same words over and over to everyone.
"You will like his story Miss M. He is quite funny. I will come get you for your meals." The nurse urged.
"Alright then. I guess, for a bit." She stood up and slipped on her shoes from the side of her bed.
The older man held out his arm and led her down the long hallway towards the common room, past the parlor and into the sunlit conservatory. The flowering plants had all but died since the most recent freeze, and she wondered if she would see them bloom in the spring. The others were still vibrant shades of green despite the cold. The little conservatory was just warm enough to take the chill off the room, from the towering windows that made up their walls. He sat her down on a small wicker settee and took the neighboring chair.
"Where did we leave off yesterday?" he asked, thumbing through the pages. "I remember, the ballet studio." He pulled his glasses from inside his suit pocket and began to read.
She felt herself relax into the cushions of the settee, his voice calming to her. As if she'd heard it before. She listened to his story; quite sure she hadn't heard it, but it perked her curiosity the longer he read.