A Life Rescued
Part 1
Chapter 3 – The Healing
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)
Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story.
The following morning, Jesse Aarons woke to the sound of his father snoring. Jesse Senior, Jack to his wife and friends, was sitting awkwardly in the chair next to the bed with his head resting at a painful looking angle on the edge of the night stand. A small rivulet of drool was dripping from his gaping mouth to his spittle-stained pant leg. Jesse watched amusedly for a few minutes as each viscous drop was partially sucked back into his mouth by a snore until it had grown to a proportion where no amount of human inhalation could prevent it from falling. Then, in a graceful yet somewhat disgusting way, the drop would reach his leg. The long line of dribble tailing behind would snap, part joining with either its downward destined denim fabric or upwards to seed the next drop. It was a side of his father that Jesse knew nothing about, but was sure to remember.
Aside from the discomfort of having his leg in a cast that prevented him from sleeping on his stomach – his usual nocturnal position – and an odd dream about causing someone to miss an appointment, Jesse had enjoyed a restful night. The morning sunlight was filling the ward with an orange-yellow hue and George, in the bed two down from his, was squinting at a comic book in the pale light. The other two boys were still sleeping, but not for long. The clock changed from six fifty-nine to seven and, in what must have been a well rehearsed process, four nurses, including the linebacker from the previous night, walked in, each rolling a cart with towels, sponges, and small cups of pills.
"Good morning, boys," each chirped cheerfully, including the linebacker who was closing the curtain on the hall window and then heading to Jesse's bed. "Time for your bath."
Bath?!
Nurse Linebacker pulled the privacy curtain around Jesse's little world and brought the cart up next to his bed. The momentary flutter of noises induced by the four white-clad women had woken up Mr. Aarons who was now busily trying to hide any evidence of his earlier oral oozing. As he stood and saw what the nurse was preparing to do, and seeing the look of horror on his son's face, Jack Aarons patted Jesse on the shoulder and with a knowing look said, "I was your age when I had my appendix out, Jesse. It'll be over soon." He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and made a quick exit.
Thanks, Dad.
After the morning wash-up was complete (during which Jesse heard various complaints from the other boys on the ward) Nurse Linebacker asked him if he could use the toilet himself or needed assistance. Though never having been incapacitated, or ever having to use crutches, he assured the nurse he could make it there on his own. For the most part he did, too, though it was a bit awkward to pee and balance yourself while on a strong painkiller and crutches. But Jesse didn't know about the analgesic yet and assumed all went well until he returned to his bad and Nurse Linebacker announced that he needed a change of gown. She looked as disgusted about the situation as Jesse felt and left muttering about 'boys' and 'poor aim.'
A while later Jesse's father returned to say he had to go to work and that his mother would be in around noon. At eight o'clock breakfast was brought in and the boy's beds were moved closer together so they could talk more easily. They were also told (or reminded) that physical therapy would start at ten. The other three boys groaned; Jesse was immensely curious as to why, but didn't ask.
The boys sharing the ward were as different as any four boys could be. George, Jesse soon found out, was an orphan and had been living with a foster family when his leg was crushed in a biking accident. Billy, the lethargic small-nosed big-mouth kid across from Jesse grated on him and reminded Jesse of the bullies at school. He had a badly fractured hip, the result of a car accident. Steve, another African-American, was quiet and seemed to dislike George, but acted like he thought Jesse was an ok kid. He was the victim of a drive-by shooting where a bullet had passed messily through his left femur and lodged in his right. After quizzing his ward-mates, Jesse should have been more prepared to tell his own personal story of how he had landed in the hospital, but when asked he suddenly felt embarrassed at having not been hit by a car or bullet; saving a girl's life seemed wimpy – not nearly macho enough to brag about. Billy snickered nastily at Jesse's uneasiness, but he was rescued by a voice behind him.
"He hurt himself saving someone's life."
Jesse turned and saw Mr. Burke approaching slowly. He stopped at the bed and asked Jesse how he was feeling, all the while eyeing Billy. The too-tough youth turned on his side as best he could and didn't say another word. But George did.
"Wicked!" This seemed to be his favorite word. "Are you going to be in the papers or on television?" Both Jesse and Mr. Burke said no at the same time, and rather forcefully. George's hands shot up in mock-surrender. "Ok, just asking. So… what happened?"
Jesse's morning was saved and the boys nodded with appropriate respect when the story was finished. Even Billy, who was doing a poor job at pretending he was asleep, sat up again and acted decent, for a while.
As ten o'clock approached Jesse noticed that the other three boys were becoming fidgety and looking repeatedly towards the ward door. When he asked the reason George told him about their physical therapy, or 'PT' as it was called, and how painful it was. And even though Jesse could tell his chain was being yanked a bit, he began to throw paranoid glances at the door, too.
The time arrived and the troop of nurses who had come in earlier returned, but without Nurse Linebacker. His ward-mates all gave him mournful looks as the were wheeled off to the Torture Chamber, as George called it. About fifty-five minutes (and another visit from Mr. Burke) later, the three boys returned. This time he knew they were trying to scam him, they were all moaning and groaning pathetically and the nurses were wearing disgusted looks on their face. But Jesse waved cheerfully, until that is, Nurse Linebacker came in with a wheelchair and told him – in a no-nonsense tone - to climb in. The second trip off the bed went marginally better than the trip to the toilet, but he still managed to kick the nurse with his cast while maneuvering around the chair. The other boys cheered this as they all had, at one time or another, been under Nurse Linebacker's care. Then, with a half-hearted wave, Jesse was off.
His lack of enthusiasm lasted exactly four seconds. Upon exiting the ward and turning into the corridor, Jesse found he was to be joined by Leslie for the first session. Bruising from the trauma to her scalp had set in overnight and one could see the black and blue marks underneath a red scarf her father had brought in earlier to cover her shaved head. She smiled brightly when their eyes met, but Jesse could also see she was in pain and her eyes looked a little glassy, something he had noticed in his own earlier that morning in the bathroom. Mr. Burke, for the third time that day, greeted Jesse and the kids, and with their accompanying nurses traveled two floors up to the therapy center.
Both Jesse and Leslie learned that their time with the specialists was geared more to Occupational rather than Physical Therapy. In truth, while both were banged up quite a bit, neither were as incapacitated as the other boys in Jesse's ward. And that led to the first question of the day: What was Occupational Therapy? The therapist, a tall, thin, grey-haired man with the nametag identifying him as Rudolph, gave them the answer.
"OT is designed to help people with physical disabilities relearn the things they used to be able to do but no longer can as a result of their limitations. Jesse, you for example, besides learning to walk with crutches, can't take a shower for the next six weeks. We will walk you through how to do a sponge bath" Behind Rudolph, Mr. Burke was comically holding his nose and waving his hand in front of his face in feigned disgust. Leslie was trying heroically to remain attentive but could not help but giggle every now and then.
"Leslie, you will need to learn how to treat you scalp and keep it clean until your cut heals. And you'll have to do it without bending your neck." This time Bill Burke was doing a passable imitation of the Frankenstein monster, much to Jesse's delight.
Over the remainder of the hour both children learned how much their lives would be limited for a few weeks. The most serious drawback was that neither could do much physical activity, Jesse because of his leg and Leslie due to her concussion. They would both need a great deal of direct assistance, especially the first few days they were home, Rudolph pointed out.
"And when do we get to go home?" Leslie asked. She looked like she was fearing the answer.
The therapist checked their charts. "You're both scheduled to be out of here tomorrow, unless you have a setback."
"Both of us?!" they asked together, in obvious delight.
"Yep, unless you pull a stitch young lady, or Jesse can't bathe himself."
With his face reddening madly, Jesse threw the dry sponge he was holding to Rudolph. "Let's get started!"
It turned out that both had their own therapist and that the important things they had to remember were just matters of common sense or following the precisely written directions they received. At the end of the hour they left together, tired but excited, chatting all the way up to the wards. There would be another session just before dinner, but with their fears of therapy dispelled neither Jesse nor Leslie were apprehensive about it.
Nurse Linebacker returned Jesse to his ward were he found the other boys busily eating lunch. His own covered dish was awaiting his arrival on a rolling table. But as he was about to pull himself into bed, the nurse returned and told him to sit back down in the wheelchair. Shrugging at the unexpected request, Jesse did as he was told and was promptly rolled across the corridor to the girl's ward and next to Leslie's bed, a moment later his mother came in carrying his lunch tray. He wasn't sure how she had retrieved it so quickly since he had not seen her in the boy's ward or corridor. The answer was provided as Mrs. Aarons removed the tray of hospital food Leslie was eyeing suspiciously, replaced it with the one she had brought in, and took off the tray cover. In front of the two children was a meal unlike any they would find in most hospitals.
"Here you two are: salad, homemade stew with freshly baked bread," she reached into her purse and took out a large chocolate ship cookie and placed it in front of her son. A second trip into the purse brought forth a zip-lock bag with celery sticks which she gave to Leslie. "Jess said you preferred these over sweets."
"Wow! Thank you, Mrs. Aarons!" Leslie exclaimed to her benefactor. Then she turned to Jesse. "How did you know celery was my favorite veggie?"
"We guys can listen, too. Besides, you always snacked on them when I came to your house." She smiled again. "This is great, Mom, thanks," said Jesse as he prepared to dig into his stew.
"Wait, one more thing," Jesse's mother said in a dramatic voice, "Straight from the vine." She took out two bottles of grape juice, handing one to each of them.
Following another round of thank yous, Jesse and Leslie started eating while Mrs. Aarons and Mr. Burke walked off together to "Sample the hospital cuisine," leaving their progeny to have some time together, alone. When both had finished, Leslie complimented the food and leaned back to munch on a celery stalk. Jesse was just finishing his cookie so his friend held out her snack for him to have one.
"Try one, they're an interesting veggie. They have a negative calorie value."
"A what?"
"You burn more calories eating celery than you take in."
Nodding his head in understanding, Jesse tentatively reached over and took the shortest piece he could find. "Here goes," he said and crunched into the pale green edible plant. After a few chews he swallowed and grimaced. "It must be an acquired taste," he observed; however, he continued working on the stalk until Leslie began acting like a bunny eating a carrot and they both broke into constant giggling.
As the lunch break wore on and they finished their final bites of celery, Leslie, who was obviously becoming tired, turned to Jesse. "Jess, thanks for saving my life. I wish you hadn't gotten hurt, though."
Jesse could see that his friend was feeling guilty about his leg, but he told her to forget it and then changed the subject. "Don't worry about it, Leslie. Uh, earlier today the guys in my ward reminded me of something."
"I bet I know what you're going to say, Jess," she replied sleepily.
"Oh, really? What is it, wise-guy…um, girl?"
"PT, when the nurse told me I had 'PT' I remembered I was holding him… Do you know what happened?"
Shaking his head, Jesse recalled that he had last heard the dog barking and whimpering in the creek, which did not bode well for its fate. "Maybe your parents know. We can ask your father when he gets back, k?"
"Yeeeeeah," Leslie slurred the word with a yawn, fighting to keep her eyes open. "Gotta rest now, see you later."
"Ok, Leslie." He needn't have responded, his friend was already asleep.
Jesse sat in his chair watching Leslie sleep, beginning to feel heavy-eyed himself. She was an alarming sight, her bruised head held up straight by the brace; but seeing her was strangely soothing, too. He had not thought much about the events of the previous day until that point. Of course, they were foremost on his mind, but passively sitting, thus far undisturbed in his memory, waiting to be reviewed. Closing his eyes he pictured the entire event from the moment he saw Leslie point across the creek to him hearing May Belle crying just a few minutes later. The entire rescue had not lasted ten minutes, but it felt like hours as it replayed over and over in his mind's eye.
One part in particular stood out: him lifting Leslie out of the water and seeing her seemingly lifeless face. She looked so much like she had the day before that when she was running home in the rain and stopped to wave and smile at him. The two scenes were merging. He unconsciously shifted his wheelchair around to be closer to the bed. Closer to Leslie. As Jesse drifted into a deep slumber, the face of his friend, as he pulled her from the water, morphed into something very different. It had gone from death to life and then back to death again. Startled, Jesse dropped her back into the torrent and backed off. But Leslie's dead mouth asked, "Where were you, Jess?" until her body sank, one last time, into the murky swirling waters.
When Mary Aarons and Bill Burke returned ten minutes later, both were surprised to find Jesse asleep and in an obvious stated of agitation. His cheeks were covered with the dried streaks from tears and he was talking in his sleep. It was not hard to make out what he was saying.
"Can Leslie come with us?"
Following the kid's afternoon OT session, where both were declared able to provide themselves with the care needed for release, as well as a brief visit to the Physical Therapist for exercise instructions, Leslie joined Jesse in his ward for dinner. This time it was Judy Burke who provided the meal, and for the entire gang, all five children. Leslie shrewdly guessed that her mother and Mrs. Burke had planned the surprise meals the day of the accident. But whatever the source of the extravagance, no one complained, even Billy, who had unnerved Jesse by flirting (as much as a ten year old could) with Leslie and trying to maneuver his chair next to her.
George, upon finishing his meal, and being completely immobile, asked Leslie's mother to bring him one of the trays of hospital food. "My legs might be crippled, but not my appetite," he declared proudly. But after one bite of the hospital's mystery meat, the realization of Mrs. Burke's superior cuisine prompted him to make a second declaration that he didn't want to gain too much weight. He then discretely pushed the second tray of food away. Jesse laughed and smiled at Leslie, but she seemed distracted and picked at her food until she saw him, and even then offered only a poor smile in return.
The evening turned out to be exceptionally pleasant for all the kids, though Jesse did see Leslie with that same distracted look from time to time. The parents of some of the other boys had joined them and took turns telling embarrassing storied about their children's younger days. Steve's father had heard about the Burke's and made the connection between them and the moderately famous authors. He purchased copies of two of their first books, I Failed P.E. and Mostly Random Plans, hits in the young adult fiction world, and requested autographs. But Jesse noticed how quiet Leslie became when she heard Mr. Lee's request and made a mental note to ask her about it. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Much of that, he supposed, came from the discomfiture of losing her hair and residual pain of her injuries, but she still carried on in an abnormally reserved fashion.
Unfortunately, the night watch, sans Nurse Linebacker this time, arrived promptly at eight, shooed away all the guests, and rolled Leslie away before Jesse could talk to her. And the friends were not allowed a second privilege of a parent spending the night, much to Mrs. Burke's annoyance. After the final good byes, Jesse lay back and did some of the exercises the Physical Therapist had given him to keep his knee strong. It would be another two weeks before he could put any weight on it and probably two months before he could run again. If he didn't do the exercises it would delay his recovery that much longer, he was told.
At ten a nurse came into the ward and had the boys turn off their bedside lamps. Jesse needed no prompting and supposed another nurse was telling Leslie the same thing. But much later, still awake and uncommonly pumped for the hour, Jesse lay listening to the sounds of the hospital. George was snoring like a banshee, but otherwise the room was silent. He could hear voices from the nurse's station, but the floor, he had learned earlier in the day, held few patients and the staff simply hadn't much to do. The heavy metal doors of the old elevator banged open an shut now and then, sometimes startling one of the boys into a half-conscious state before settling down again.
A couple times he thought he had heard the squeak of a mouse in the hallway but couldn't imagine a place as clean as a hospital having mice. It was an amusing thought that Nurse Linebacker might run into one of the furry creatures and awaken the entire floor with a scream of terror. But then he supposed that someone her size would not be frightened by a mouse. As he sat dwelling on the rodent, Jesse had an idea. If he could actually catch the creature, it might make a nice going away gift for Billy. He was irritated by how much the kid had annoyed him earlier with his play on Leslie – though Jesse had not made the connection that his feelings were jealousy – and a furry critter jumping out of his water pitcher the next morning might teach him a lesson.
Slowly and painfully, trying hard not to make a sound, Jesse rolled off his bed and stood on one leg while he got his crutches ready. Next he looked for something to catch the mouse with. He took care of that by taking his own water pitcher and, somewhat more gracefully that earlier in the day, limping to the bathroom and emptying the water. At this point he was beginning to realize the folly of his actions.
I'm never going to be able to catch a mouse in this condition…
But he was determined to try. As he approached the ward door, taking care not to be seen by a wandering nurse or orderly, Jesse set his crutches down and pushed himself along the floor with his good leg. He heard it again, the mouse, as he sat next to the door frame, except that is didn't sound so much like a mouse now. It certainly had a squeakiness to it. But it sounded more like a…
A sickening feeling filled Jesse's chest as he came to the realization of what he was hearing. Leslie was crying in her ward across the hall. He could tell she was trying to keep her noise down, but, just like he'd thought there was an occasional squeak from a mouse, it was his friend unwillingly letting her sobs escape. At that moment, Jesse felt something akin to an instinct take over his actions. No longer concerned with stealth, he grabbed his crutches and hobbled across the hallway as fast as he could. In the background he heard at least one nurse calling out for him return to his ward, but he ignored the order and entered Leslie's ward.
She was lying in bed, curled into a fetal position, but her hands were clamped tightly over her mouth; her eyes were open wide and filled with terror. It was a familiar sight, Jesse realized, very familiar and not unlike his own terrors the night before.
He clunked on the tile floor the last two steps to her bed and tried to sit on the edge, but the bed was higher than his own and all he could do was lean against it. From outside the ward Jesse heard the sounds of at least two people approaching. Leslie was obviously still in shock from whatever had terrorized her, and Jesse was becoming alarmed, he didn't know what to do. Then, again, from instinct, he tentatively placed his hand on her left shoulder and patted it while closing his eyes as if his own action would block out whatever was hurting his friend.
"Leslie? It's me, Jess. Are you ok?" Jesse, you're a jerk. What an stupid thing to ask. Of course she's not ok.
He shook her shoulder again, becoming frightened that something was seriously wrong with his friend. Turning back to the door, he wondered what had happened to the people who were coming down the hallway seconds before.
What's wrong with these people?
Then he saw Leslie's eyes focus and her hands fly from her face to his arm, latching on tightly. She was breathing heavily, and still choking back sobs when he tried to ask her what happened, but she shook her head as best she could. Jesse realized that she needed more time to compose herself. While he waited, her grip on his arm lessened and after a few seconds both hands slid off.
"Les, are you ok now?" he asked again, gently, so as not to startle her.
"Mmhmm. Thanks."
In seconds Jesse could hear her breathing return to the steady deep rhythm of a person sleeping soundly, peacefully. Realizing he still had his eyes closed, he opened them and turned to the door. Mrs. Burke was just coming around through the ward entrance, followed shortly by three nurses, one holding an syringe and taking the protective cover off the needle.
"Jess?"
"Mrs. Burke? What are you doing here? I thought…"
"I know, Jess, I…had to stay." She stepped around the boy and put her face to Leslie's head, holding it there for a few seconds. When she stood up she spoke directly to the nurses. "It's over, she'll be ok for the rest of the night."
Mrs. Burke and the three nurses, one of whom was Nurse Linebacker, escorted Jesse out to the corridor.
Didn't this woman ever sleep?
"I…I heard Leslie crying and I went to…to see what was wrong" he stumbled to explain, trying to hold back emotions the didn't understand. But instead of being scolded, Mrs. Burke pulled Jesse into a hug and thanked him.
"Jess, Leslie's had terrible nightmares for years," she explained, herself on the verge of tears. "It was part of the reason we moved here. We hoped the change would help her." Though very tired, Mrs. Burke led Jesse back to his ward.
"Sorry it didn't help much," he said flatly, in an almost apologetic voice.
"No, Jess, it did. This was the first one she's had in months. Bill and I thought the accident would have triggered one last night, but…" She trailed off as he climbed back into bed. "Thank you for looking out for her, Jess. I can't tell you how much we appreciate it. I think the nurses might let me sleep in there now, at least I hope they do, those lounge couches are awful. 'Night, Jess."
But something bothered the boy deeply and he wouldn't let Leslie's mother go yet, he needed an explanation. "Wait, Mrs. Burke. Uh, why did you wait so long before coming into the ward? I didn't know what to do, I was all alone in there and…and Les was scared to death and you…you left us!" Suddenly, words he hadn't planned on saying were spilling out. "Sh-sh-she could have…I don't know! W-w-why?" By the end of his rant, Jesse's voice had become loud enough to cause one of the nurses to look into his ward. But the more perplexing problem to Jesse was that Mrs. Burke appeared completely baffled by his accusation.
"Jess, we came directly to Leslie's bed, we got there just a couple seconds after you. We weren't hanging around outside the door."
Judy Burke was alarmed by the accusation, but more so because Jesse appeared to be absolutely certain he was right. "We can talk about it more tomorrow, Jess. Try to get some sleep now."
Jesse again lay in bed, this time he was sure he wouldn't sleep. He ran back over everything that had happened in the past ten minutes: the mouse, the plan to take the mickey out on Billy, hearing Leslie crying, crossing the hallway, seeing Leslie scared to death and trying to calm her, and Mrs. Burke coming in after he had helped her daughter.
What am I missing?
His father had left a Bible to read – that usually put him to sleep! But this wasn't the time. He stretched his arms and back, hearing his seldom used joints crack, an action that always grossed-out Leslie, and tried counting sheep.
That failed, too.
After watching the ward clock signal midnight, Jesse gave in. He took out the Bible, an accompanying book light, and started to read. He chose Proverbs. Proverbs were cool and Jesse liked them, but they always put him to sleep.
This time it worked.
While his wife was with their daughter at the hospital, Bill Burke wolfed down a quick dinner of leftovers and walked out to his tool shed. He looked at a few items before selecting the one best suited for the job ahead. The pole-saw had a reach of about twelve feet.
Trudging through what seemed to be perpetual mud, Bill set off to the site of the rope swing over the creek where his daughter had nearly died the night before. Arriving at the location, now marked more by the discarded medical trash from the paramedics than anything else, he had to look for a few seconds to find the rope. The storm earlier in the day had whipped the frayed end up over a branch and it was nearly hidden in the budding trees.
Extending the pole to its full length, Bill began to saw at the loop of rope over the highest branch; it took about a minute for the sharp blade to cut through. With a crack of a few smaller dead branches, the rope fell down through the trees, the former top loop landing in the water.
Bill retracted the pole, secured the blade, and took the frayed end of the rope to drag it home. His first thought was to throw it away, but for some unknown reason he coiled it up and placed it into an empty whicker basked. When the saw was safely back in its proper spot, Bill closed up the shed, locked it, and returned to the house. He wanted to finish the latest chapter of his most recent book, One Plus One Equal Three. After a fruitless hour he gave up and went to bed.
Revision 1.1, April, 2008
