The Loony Bin

I can't believe it's only one in the afternoon. That's because the whole ordeal started at seven thirty. I'm going to be so bored. Thank God Dad went and got my backpack and books from the school for me. He couldn't stay, though.

I think of the security guard, and his family. They could never in their wildest dreams have imagined they'd wake up to this. Why did I cheat death, and it came for him, instead? Or why is Tyler's face all covered with bandages, and I don't even have a scratch?

If my mom were here, she'd be camped out in the room with me. We'd be playing scrabble on the bed. That's what she always used to do. Sneaking me stuff from the vending machines. Making the nurses bring one of those recliner chairs for her to sleep on overnight. Then making it up to them by taking care of me when I had to go to the bathroom, and helping them change the sheets when I knocked over the water pitcher.

If my mom knew I was in the hospital right now, she'd probably jump on a plane and fly straight here. But I'd still be already home by the time that she arrived. Which would leave her and me and Dad with the awkwardness of all three of us under one roof.

I close my eyes, and wonder why I wish for something that I can't even really remember. My cell phone stays where it is.

Edward.

Why did he leave me there like that?

Why didn't he stay?

The clock on the wall has hardly moved. Maybe it will be almost time for seventh period forever. I wonder if Lauren will come visit Tyler when school lets out. I bet she will. I wonder who else will come, though God knows how they're going to get here now that Tyler's van is out of commission. His parents are going to kill him, once he gets out of the hospital. My dad's going to have to wait in line.

Jessica and Mike will probably end up hitching. I guess they'll visit me, too – if they can find me. I'm on a different unit than Tyler. They put him on the surgical unit, I guess because of his stitches. I'm on the medical floor – "the loony bin," I heard one of the nurses calling it. The people here aren't really going to get better. They're the ones with the diabetes, and liver failure, and kidney failure, and heart failure, the alcohol and strokes and dementia: just hitching along in the long slow slide, through sickness, old age, and death. A lot of times they don't even know where they are or what's happening to them. They yell at the nurses and try to escape from their rooms.

The loony bin.

Maybe Angela will find me.

I'd like that.

I can't work up the interest to open my books, and so I fall asleep instead. When I wake up, I don't know what time it is, only that it's time for vital signs and neurocheck, just like Dr. Cullen said. The nurse is bored. She can see that there's nothing wrong with me. She's finished soon enough, and I have the room to myself again. I probably missed the kids from school because I was sleeping. I'm still hooked up to an I.V. I have no clue why. If I were going to go into shock, it would have happened a long time ago. Now I have to drag the thing with me when I go to the bathroom. I close the door to my room so no one will see my bare butt as I walk by. Yes, all my clothes went home with Dad. Too wet and messed up from my roll in the parking lot. I do what I have to do, then curl up on the bed again, feeling sorry for myself.

I'm still waffling between television and Trigonometry when I hear a knock at the door.

"Bella?"

It's Edward's voice.

Edward?

"Are you awake?"

Oh my God, his voice is so soft. So tender. I need to answer him, but all my insides are clamped up tight.

The door opens just a crack, and I see him peeking in.

"May I come in?"

I nod, since he can see me, now, and I still don't have a voice. What is wrong with me?

He comes in … carefully, and stands just inside the door. He looks as nervous as I feel.

"Are you ok?"

I nod again. He came back. He came back to see me.

He walks a little way toward me, looking like he wants to say something, but doesn't know where to start.

Me, too.

Thank you.

Thank you for the medicine.

Thank you for saving me.

Thank you for … for …

"I'm sorry," he says.

Sorry?

"For what?"

"For knocking you down. I was … so rough."

Yes, but consider the alternative.

"It's okay. I'm not hurt."

And neither are you. Which is impossible. I saw … I saw …

Edward is not gay. Or maybe he is. But that's not what's queer about him.

"How did you do it?"

Edward is acting strangely. He has both hands together, like praying, but making a tent over his nose and mouth. He's looking at me with a weird expression on his face. Oh my God, when did I get out of the bed and start walking toward him? With my bare butt hanging out in the back! I'm mortified, and start grabbing and fumbling with the blanket off the bed. It takes me three whole minutes to get myself properly wrapped and not fouled up with the I.V. line. I'm pretty sure he never saw anything, but my cheeks are just burning anyway. When I finally look up at him, he looks like he's going to panic and bolt out the door screaming.

What is wrong with us?

He still has his hands over his face. If he didn't look so scared, I'd think it was to keep me from seeing that he was laughing at me.

After a while he takes his hands down, and I see he has that look again, like he wants to say something, but doesn't know how.

I wait. I don't want to push him. But the silence just gets longer, so finally I just go back to my question.

"How did you do it?"

He frowns. "Do what?"

Jeez, Edward. Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than … whatever, able to stop skidding vans with just one hand …

"How did you get to me so fast?"

"Bella, I was standing right next to you."

What?

"What?"

"I was standing right next to you, Bella."

He's moved closer, and he's staring at me intensely, like he's trying to hypnotize me or something.

"That's bull-dinky! I saw you! You were standing next to your car. You were all the way across the lot!" You never stand next to me. You never come anywhere near me.

You said I stink.

"Bella, you hit your head." He's moved closer to me again, still staring hard. "You probably have a little bit of amnesia."

"I didn't hit my head! Don't lie, Edward!" You were there, too. You know I didn't hit my head because it was your hands that were protecting me.

And in the heat of the moment I've grabbed his shoulders and I'm trying to kick his shins. Trying but not succeeding. He's dodging me expertly, and keeping his balance all the while, but with the most horrified expression on his face.

"Bella, STOP! You're going to pull out your I.V.!" And he catches me, and stops me from doing just that, not to mention falling over from meeting nothing but air with my kicks.

The whole exchange has been carried on in heated whispers, and now we're just staring at one another again: me red and breathing hard, him white, and still as a stone. A magically fragrant stone. I remember it from Biology class. That first, awful day. I'd thought it was one of the girls, wearing perfume … or something. But it's Edward.

"Don't lie to me, Edward. Just don't lie." I'm trying to understand you. Don't you want me to understand you?

"Bella."

"I know what I saw."

He takes his hands off me. Very quietly, he asks, "What exactly do you think that you saw, Bella?"

"You stopped the van. With one hand. We both should be dead, Edward. You and me. We both should be dead. But we're not. We're not."

"No one's going to believe you, Bella. If you try to tell them that I ran across a parking lot in less than a second, stopped Tyler's van with one hand … They'll think that you're crazy."

What? Who the hell does he think that I'm going to talk to about this except him?

He's got his hands over his nose and mouth again, but he's still looking at me intensely, as if he's trying to bore into me with his eyes, which are dark now, almost back to black. After a few breaths he takes his hands down. "If you go around saying things like that … they'll keep you in the hospital longer. They might even lock you up."

And suddenly the light bulb goes on in my head.

"You didn't come here to see if I'm ok. You only came because you're worried about your … your secret … whatever it is." You didn't come back for me. You didn't come back for me at all. "You just want to make sure I don't tell on you!"

I don't say it loudly. We're standing right next to each other. He can hear me fine. My eyes only come up to his collarbones. I have to look up to see his mouth, see his lips pressed together in a straight thin line. My nose is just a little above his heart. He smells so nice. I want to cry.

"You should have just let the van crush me Edward! Then you wouldn't have anything to worry about!"

I hear him gasp, look up to see his eyes wide with shock, and … grief?

"How can you say that," he whispers.

"How can you think I would be such a backstabber?"

Suddenly, I can't stand to be this close to him any more. His fragrance is everywhere. It's not like any kind of cologne, or even perfume, I've ever smelled. It's not cologne. It's him. He smells like a forest, only better. Like some kind of incense, but from skin, not something you burn. It makes me want to just throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his chest. Just inhale him. But I can't do that. I can't throw myself on the bed, either, because I'm wrapped up in a blanket, and tethered to an I.V. pole. I have to back away slowly, and climb onto the bed carefully, looking and feeling like an idiot. But I finally make it, and pull the rest of the blanket up over my head. From my hiding place I can yell at him; but in a small voice, because I still don't want anyone else to hear.

"Go away, Edward! Just leave me alone!"

The room is filled with utter silence. No breathing. No footsteps. Nothing. He is gone. I'm sure he is gone. But as long as I keep the bedclothes up over my head, there is no proof that he isn't there. I am free to pretend that he has just gone over to sit down on the chair by the foot of the bed. In my imagination, that's where he stays, sitting in the chair. Not like a civilized person, but crouched, like some kind of angel gargoyle, with his knees drawn up, watching over me in the semi-dark.

Until the nurse comes in to check my vital signs.