Chapter 12 – The proof is in the pain

May 28, 2010 Time Unknown

If she had to describe it, she would say the sensation was akin to being smothered with a thick, heavy, wool blanket. Or being buried alive. One of the two.

It was a weird sensation to put it mildly. Her head felt like it was floating while the rest of her body was being crushed. Her arms and legs weighed a thousand pounds each - she couldn't fathom moving them, didn't have the energy or desire to even try. Consistent pressure from above, source unknown, held her down, pinned her, suffocated her. It was as if someone had shoved her windpipe in a vise and kept tightening it, inch by painful inch, cutting off her oxygen. All she could manage were short, labored breaths and even those were coming few and farther between.

Instinctively, Olivia knew she was dying.

She had fallen into a dark well in her mind, so deep that no light could reach her. She saw only black and wondered idly if she was going to heaven or hell. At that moment, she felt so horrible she didn't even care. She just prayed for a quick end.

The last few months with Elliot flashed before her eyes. She saw every detail of his handsome face, every beautiful quirk, every unique imperfection. She recalled vividly how nervous he had been that day almost five months ago, when they had walked out of the precinct together, shoulders touching. His divorce had been finalized the day before, and he seemed lighter. He drove her home and, after pulling up in front of her building, proceeded to scramble apprehensively for words. She figured out he was trying to ask her out long before he actually got the words out, but she didn't let him off the hook. That wasn't her style. When he finally did pull it together, she agreed to meet him for dinner the next day. Their first official date.

He brought beautiful, fragrant carnations and handed them to her almost shyly. Her heart swelled with love when she saw him standing awkwardly in the foyer, although he was almost as familiar with her apartment as she was. The rules had changed, and they both knew it. She didn't recall much about dinner, but remembered clearly how he had kissed her suddenly in the elevator on the way back up to her apartment afterwards. Good old impulsive Elliot. It was the best kiss of her life. Warm, sweet, and intense. He had apologized gruffly, mumbling something about not wanting to be too pushy, but he shut up when she kissed him back.

That night, they only made it as far as her couch the first time. The moment had been so long in coming that the bedroom simply seemed too far away. They had waited for years and neither wanted to wait even a second longer. Elliot was a sensitive, thorough, and attentive lover. Ever the gentleman, he initially wanted to stop when he saw the expression of pain in her eyes. She had assured him she would adjust – it had been a while for her and he, well, wasn't lacking in "that" department. Trusting her, he waited patiently, and she did adjust. And it was amazing. As were the second and third times, when they finally did make it to her bedroom. As it was every time thereafter.

Funny, she thought to herself as the air in her lungs grew extremely thin, I thought your whole life was supposed to flash before your eyes before you die. Then she realized it had. Elliot was her whole life now.

Slowly, the images etched in her mind started to fade. Elliot's face distorted and lost definition. Although she clung to it for all she was worth, she knew she couldn't hang on to him much longer. As the images blurred and washed out, the pain struck her with a vengeance. A hot sting started deep in her stomach and spread through her body, as if it had become master of her veins. An acidic burn developed lower, percolating, brewing, before forcing its way up, scalding her esophagus and biting at the back of her throat. She was in too much pain to cry. For a moment, she wondered if she was being tortured. It didn't seem fair - the worse the pain got, the more aware she felt. That was cruel, she decided. It should work the other way around, if there was any mercy in the world.

Suddenly, as if launched from a cannon, an eruption of agony shot up from the depths of her stomach. The force with which it hit shocked her into consciousness, and the first conscious feeling she had was the unpleasant sensation of vomiting. As she threw up, she started to choke, her airways completely blocked by fluid. She was going to aspirate. Hell of a way to die. Just as her body start to let go, as she started to slip away, she felt hands on her, rolling her onto her side. Quickly her airways drained and her lungs screamed for breath.

"Good, that's good." Olivia could barely hear the soft, unfamiliar voice that suddenly floated in the air beside her ear. She wanted to open her eyes, to attach a face to the voice, but it felt as if her eyelids were glued shut. She struggled against the darkness until she felt a comforting hand on her forehead. "It's okay. Just rest," the voice urged her gently. Unable to resist, Olivia slipped back out of consciousness.


May 28, 2010 11:23 am

The next time Olivia stirred, her senses were functioning far better. Listening idly as she lay motionless, she could hear someone humming a nameless tune and the clatter of pots on a stove. The room smelt of delicious spices and warm baking. Unfortunately, the taste in her mouth was anything but delicious. Olivia could feel a soft mattress beneath her and a light, fuzzy blanket thrown on top of her. Her body ached as if someone had taken a baseball bat to it, but she was alive. The proof was in the pain.

When her eyelids didn't feel so unbearably heavy, she lifted them slowly. At first, she was greeted with nothing but a white blur. Blinking rapidly, she feared she had lost her sight until her eyes adjusted to the light filtering in through a window. Finally, she was able to take in her surroundings. She found herself in a tiny, cramped room, stuffed to overflowing with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a lot of photos and personal accoutrements. It certainly wasn't her apartment – this room was too homey. So where the hell was she? Suddenly, like a tidal wave, everything came crashing back. Aruba, Chad, her fight with Elliot, her walk by the ocean. Disoriented, Olivia pushed herself up into a sitting position, feeling her survival gear kick in. She needed to figure out what was going on to regain some control over her situation. Glancing down, she realized she was clad in baggy sweats, her own clothes nowhere in sight, and she had no recollection at all of arriving at her current location.

"You're awake." A gentle voice in the doorway startled Olivia, and reflexively she pulled the blanket around herself protectively. The gentle voice, the same voice from earlier, belonged to an older woman with a friendly smile. Her face was deeply tanned and weathered, her frame sturdy and covered in a calico dress, her eyes green and twinkling. She spoke in clear but accented English as she wiped her hands on her white cotton apron. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a train." Olivia's voice was raspy and she coughed, feeling fluid slosh angrily in her lungs. Her arms were shaky as she propped herself up. In that moment, she felt horribly vulnerable and at the mercy of this kind stranger.

"That's not surprising. You've been through a lot in the last 12 hours."

"I can't remember any of it . . ." Irritated with herself, Olivia shook her head as if that would jar her memory. All it did was make her neck hurt.

"My name is Carina Croes. My husband, Erroll, found you, unconscious, washed up on the beach around midnight last night. He's a fisherman. He was out dropping traps until the storm forced him in and he stumbled across you. He gave you CPR and brought you back here. You were delusional, running a high fever. Do you remember any of that?"

Olivia shook her head. "No."

"You had been pretty beaten up by the heavy waters. You bumped your head." Carina's eyes flit to Olivia's forehead, and Olivia's hand flew up there reflexively, finding a large lump. Even a slight brush of it with her fingers made her wince. "It was bleeding pretty badly last night. It's better now."

"Was I taken to the hospital?"

Carina shook her head. "No. I'm afraid we don't put much faith in modern medicine here. We live in a traditional fishing village. It's a bit of a trip to the closest hospital. Erroll brought you here instead. I used to work as a nurse in the village. We monitored your fever, gave you natural herbs. You were soaked to the bone, freezing cold. We put you in dry clothes." Carina nodded toward Olivia's outfit. "Sorry I couldn't find anything a bit more flattering."

Olivia smiled in spite of herself as Carina continued. "Had you gotten any worse, we would have had to take you to the village doctor. But your fever broke earlier this morning. You just needed to get all that sea water out of your system. Your color came back after I gave you some juice and a bit of soup a little over an hour ago."

"I don't remember any of that either," Olivia mused, gingerly tracing around the painful bump.

Carina lowered herself onto a chest that sat jammed against the end of the bed. "You were in and out of consciousness for hours. We couldn't get much information out of you. All you could tell us, after much prodding during a moment of lucidity, was your name. It is Olivia, right?"

"Yes." Olivia started to nod but quickly stopped. Nodding hurt.

"Good." Carina smiled warmly and Olivia felt a rush of gratitude toward the older woman. "You are a tough girl Olivia."

"Tough or not, you saved my life. Thank you." Olivia felt her throat close up as the gravity of what had happened sunk in. She really could have died. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she swiped at them, embarrassed.

"Nonsense. It's just what we do." Carina dismissed her thanks with a wave of the hand. Reaching over, she patted Olivia's knee through the blanket. "Now, where are you staying? Erroll and I assumed you were a tourist. Most people down on the beach are nowadays."

"I'm staying at the Rio." Olivia gingerly swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the soreness in her muscles and the catch in her lungs. All the sea water obviously hadn't been purged yet.

Carina frowned. "That's quite a distance down the island. Several miles at least from where Erroll found you. How did you end up down this end of the beach?"

"My boyfriend and I had a fight. I walked out on him. I ended up down by the ocean, and just kept walking. " Olivia smiled wryly. "Not the smartest thing to do in the midst of a thunderstorm, I know. I wasn't thinking. I was . . . upset."

"Elliot must be very worried about you."

"I-" Olivia cut herself off, eyes widening in surprise. "How do you know his name?"

"You asked for him repeatedly when your fever was at its worst. And mumbled his name many times throughout the night." Carina stood and glanced into the kitchen, where the sound of boiling water had just become audible. "You need to lay back down and rest. Erroll has gone looking for Elliot. We don't have a phone here. It's at times like this I wish we did. We couldn't call around, and we didn't know exactly where you were staying, so Erroll planned to stop at all the resorts and ask around for an Elliot and Olivia." Carina's eyes became distant and she smiled fondly. "He's a good man, my Erroll." Then, as if remembering Olivia was still in the room, her eyes focused again and she clapped her hands. "I'm going to make some food for us. Enough talking for now. You lay back down and rest. I will wake you when it's ready. And I'm sure your Elliot will be here soon."

Olivia's best attempt at a smile wavered weakly. She suddenly felt horribly sad and distressed about everything that had gone down with Elliot. She should have told him about Chad. She should have respected his anger more, tried harder to empathize with what he must have been feeling. She should have listened, instead of getting angry. If she had died, the last thing she would have said to him was "Screw you."

Carina seemed to sense the change in Olivia's mood. She came over and sat beside her on the bed, hugging her with one arm. "Don't worry dear. Erroll will find your Elliot and tell him what happened."

Olivia tried again to smile bravely, but it came out more as a grimace. In her mind, she heard the harsh words she had spoken to Elliot, and the angry words he had thrown back. "Thanks Carina. You're right, I'm sure Erroll will find him. I'm just not sure that Elliot is going to care."