They told me I could go home. They was a vague word, but I honestly could not distinguish them much at the time. Looking back I'm able to tell a great deal more about each of the hospital staff that looked after me. For instance, they all wore the same shoes, but one woman with a gentle voice like a breeze would nervously shuffle her feet around me, and her breath would come out slightly heavier. Either she had a soft spot for me, or she was unsettled by me. It may have been my unseeing eyes, which were still an unpainted image to me. Whatever the reason, I know she was uncomfortable around me.
Another nurse, on the other hand, evidently felt bad for me because his voice always went a bit softer and higher when he talked about my condition, and I could hear him bite his lip every so often.
The third nurse was very flirtatious. I could practically hear the confidence in her voice, which told me that I was not the only patient that she flirted with. Meg. I remember her name. Her cool voice was the same kind of flirtation as Dean's, but it was not at all at the same time. Strangely enough, Dean's simply had a different ring to it. It was relaxing and seductive, one of those voices that just make you comfortable enough to fall asleep and drift away for who cares how long. Meg was nice and interesting, but she was not Dean. She smelled of Axe most days, or sometimes old spice, which indicated the presence of other men.
I liked her, but I liked Dean more, and that seemed to be a dangerous fact. Dean spent a good portion of his time by my bedside until I was discharged, but when he was not, I felt lost and alone, and I hated it. I hated Dean for it too, no matter how petty that sounded. I had become dependent on Dean, and that was contrary to what my future was supposed to be.
All of that aside for a moment, I did say they sent me home, which is true, but at the same time, it's not. Home was not home anymore. I had no home in reality at that point. The whole world outside of that hospital room was foreign to me. I could not tell my old home from the next guy's house, and that was one of the scariest parts because really, I had basically lost everything - my identity included.
The world was cold and harsh to me, and I felt the anxiety overwhelm me as soon as they let me out, Dean guiding me towards a car, which was presumably his. The world felt like it was grabbing for me, desperately trying to cling on to me and drag me into its clutches where it could take the last strip of worth I had remaining. I pathetically clung to Dean until he ushered me into the passenger seat of the car. It felt old and shaky, and the engine rattled, but it was Dean's car, so I automatically trusted it. It was a small sanctuary from that humanity nabbing world.
Dean had classic rock music playing, which had never been my favorite, but now, my ears danced with the song, delighted to hear something other than the incessant chatter of the world. If Dean noticed the slightest smile that made its way to my face, he made no mention of it. He drove in a respectable silence, just letting me soak in the music, only once talking to tell me that I could change the music if I wanted, to which I responded that I rather liked it.
He seemed pleased by that. I could hear his usual chuckle, which meant his mouth had to be crinkled in a smile, even if only briefly.
It pleased me too, actually. Me, who had no self worth because I had been robbed of my chance at healing the world, of all people was making that man smile, and that was an accomplishment. Perhaps a small one, but it is the smallest victories that really count sometimes. I have come to realize that they mean the most.
I could only tell that we had arrived at our destination because of the abrupt stop in music and rumbling of the engine of the old car. I heard the click of the key being pulled from the ignition, and I believe that both Dean and I knew that I was aware of where we were, even if the place itself was still a stranger to me.
He didn't say a word as he rustled in his seat and opened his door, the breeze rushing briefly in from his open door to lap at my face and deliver fresh new scents of rotting wood and marijuana. I was home all right, and to be honest, I had missed those particular scents only because they reminded me of what I was before, and they only now seemed to be a cruel reminder.
Dean's door shut with a click, and I was left again with the stuffy air that had the remnants of Dean's scent lingering throughout, making jabs at my nostrils at will.
I heard my door swing open, and the scents hit me again, but this time they were mingled with Dean's, which strangely enough gave me a bizarre kind of comfort.
I stepped out of the car slowly and cautiously, refusing to use Dean as a crutch because I was hopelessly trying to prove myself, but to who I had no idea.
Dean's laugh was barely even audible. It was more of a loud breath than anything, but I knew it was there. He thought my yearning for independence was amusing, and that greatly infuriated me.
"What's so funny?" I snapped at him as I rose up on the sidewalk, facing the direction his scent was coming from and trying to make myself look strong and intimidating.
"I didn't say anything." Dean played innocent, and I knew he was grinning. I could obviously not see it, but I could feel it. It was in his voice. He had to be.
"Yeah. You didn't have to." I growled back like a night owl who had been woken up at 4 AM.
"Sorry if my silence offended you, princess." Dean jokingly sassed me.
"Your silence didn't offend me; you did." I snapped right back.
"Everything offends you." He responded without missing a beat, and I can tell you for certain, that one hurt, but things of that sort only hurt if they're true. The truth hurts. Maybe that's why we have a tendency to run from it.
He led me into my apartment without touching me or uttering a single word. I think he must have known that I could follow his scent at that point, but I still did stick close by him because I was afraid that I might bump into something and get separated from the one person who was still by my side.
I know I must sound like an emotional train wreck, but in all honesty, I was exactly that. Whether or not that was entirely valid was still up in the air, and it still is to this day.
My apartment represented the tranquillity and ambition of my past life, but that life had died along with my spirit, so my apartment was now just another dingy old building that reeked of rotting wood.
I wondered how long Dean would be with me, but I hesitated to ask because I did not want to seem dependent on him. I inwardly feared that he would be dropping me and running as far away from me, the problem child he never asked for, leaving me alone in a cruel new world.
Maybe life is not what they all shape it out to be. It's not fun and laughter. It's not love and selflessness. It's cold and lonely, and most of all it's an overwhelming sense of perfunctory activity that is empty at the core that everyone abides to. That was my view of the world at the time. However, Dean would soon work to change that in ways I could never even begin to imagine.
Dean led me up the stairs, each creak distinctive as I crept my way on up after him, clinging onto the rail as if it were a lifeline.
I think Dean knew I was fretting, but if he did, he made no sign of it. The only thing that really led me to believe he knew was when we finally stopped at my apartment and heard his mouth crinkle into a smile.
"Quit smiling. You'd be scared too." I grumbled at him as I came to an abrupt stop because I no longer heard the heavy padding of his footsteps.
"Probably." Dean casually responded, his voice sounding somewhat distant as if he were dreaming. "But it usually comes as a shock to all of them the first time they go home."
I could feel the shock ebbing into my face as the words slapped me across the face. I was not Dean's only patient. He had seen others like me. Perhaps I was not the worst off in the world.
I think that was what he was trying to prove to me. He knew that i was bathing in self loathing, not even bothering to think about my future because I believed I had none. In a few words, Dean had told me that he had helped others through my obstacle, and perhaps even worse ones. Yes, this was one of the first lessons Dean ever taught me, but it was just one in a line with many others.
I braced myself. "Let's go in." Was all I had to say to him, but I knew it must have pleased him despite the fact that I could not see his face. He still had a whole vibe about him that said as much to me.
"After you." He replied in his suave, soothing voice that was falsely polite. He just wanted me to enter into my new life as an individual, strong and fearless, but he also wanted me to know that he was backing me up the whole way. That was my first step into my new life, and it changed everything
