Afghan Love Potion by Chris Helvey

Author:Chris Helvey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: PTSD, Afghanistan, Hometown, Illegal immigration, Sacrifice, Handicapped, Scarred, Memories
Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
Published: 2024-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

THE GRAY-HAIRED LADY at the reception desk politely and quicky informed me that Ms. Rollins was in Room 307. She also shared a smile with me. She seemed like a nice person and I wondered if she had any grandchildren. Then I wondered if I would ever have any children, let alone grandchildren.

The elevator wheezed, actually shuddered once, but it carried me, along with an old man in a shiny blue suit, to the third floor. When the doors opened, I kept my finger on the Open button until the old man had hobbled into the hallway, then I stepped out and started looking for 307.

Jessica’s room was halfway down the hall to my right, on the back side of Burnsville Regional Medical Center. The door was closed and I hesitated, unsure whether to knock or retreat. Seeing no sign indicating not to knock, I rapped the door gently, once, with the knuckles of my left hand as I turned the door handle with my right. If she said anything, I couldn’t hear her, and I eased on into the room.

She was lying on her side, facing a window which framed a hunk of the parking lot, plus a slice of green grass, dotted with a pair of unmanicured shrubs and one small tree that appeared to be fighting for survival. Somehow, the tree’s struggle seemed apropos.

If she was awake, Jessica didn’t give any indication. I sat in the single visitor’s chair and watched her slow, rhythmic breathing. Quiet slowly consumed the room and suddenly I was back in Coatesville, waiting for Doc Martin to make his rounds. For a few seconds, I wished I were back there, safe and sheltered, fed and bathed, with a call button at the ready, and friendly, efficient nurses not more than a few seconds away. But that was purely another of my fantasies, and fantasies are not good for the soul of man; they never last, you see. Then Jessica turned over and Coatesville and Doc Martin were nothing more than memories on the fade.

She blinked her eyes open, and I watched the lights in them change as she realized where she was and what had happened. She shook her head as though to dispel demons, which I could have told her was a waste of time, and scooted higher in the bed. Seconds later, her eyes begin roaming the room. The faint smile on her face faded when she finally noticed me.

“Oh! You startled me.” Her voice was raspy, still thick with sleep and pain meds.

“My face does that to people.”

She sighed. “I didn’t mean that, and you know it.”

“These days, about all I know is that I don’t know much.” I couldn’t decide if I was trying to be funny, or actually wanted to piss her off. Probably, like the vast majority of emotions and actions, my attitude was a cocktail of feelings, not all of which were pleasant.

Jessica sighed and shifted higher in the bed, wincing as she moved.

“Hurt much?”

“Some.”

A cart rumbled down the hall and I found myself wishing I had another cup of Johnny’s coffee.

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