Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Hello, My Name is... - 1. Chapter 1 Sneak Peek...
The voices off in the distance became closer, clearer. There was a familiarity to them but he couldn’t make out what they were saying, their voices were somewhat distorted. His eyelids felt heavy as he tried to force them open, only to shut them quickly. The brightness of the lights was almost unbearable, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his head as he tried to focus. He took a deep breath and held it, even as he relaxed into the softness beneath him. “Okay, let’s try this again,” he said to himself. He released the breath he was holding and slowly opened his eyes once more. This time he struggled through the pain and the brightness.
He looked around the room slowly, squinting, everything becoming clearer with each blink of the eyes. His eyes landed on the television mounted on the wall. That’s where the voices were coming from, he concluded since he was the only one in the room. He sighed disappointedly as he lifted his hand toward his head. “Ouch…What the hell?” He winced at the pain shooting through his arm. He looked down at his hand and frowned at the IV taped to the back of it.
The white walls, beeping monitors and the array of plants, flowers and get well cards were a sure sign that he was in the hospital, but why? What happened? He tried to remember. Tried to think, but it was all “muddy”.
He continued to glance around the room, taking in his surroundings. A small smile creased his lips when he noticed the drawings on the wall, there were several of them. They were done in crayons, obviously by a small child. One stood out, the picture had a bright yellow sun suspended in mid air, a few clouds in the sky and a family made of stick figures sitting on green grass having a picnic with the words ‘Get Well Daddy,’ written with a black crayon across the sun. “I’m a dad,” he mouthed. His smile widened when he glanced down at the simple gold band that adorned his finger on his left hand. “And, I’m married,” he stated more than asked, approvingly.
The name, Dana written in chalk on the blackboard caught his attention. Maybe she could provide him with some answers. He reached for the call button and was about to press it when…
“Well, Christian…welcome back,” the pleasant voice greeted him as she made her way over to the bed.
“Okay, so my name is Christian,” he thought to himself. “Hi,” he returned the greeting. His hoarse, scratchy voice met his ears and caused him to wrinkle his nose, frowning at the sound of it. The young woman giggled at his response and smiled.
“It’s okay,” she laughed, “You haven’t used your voice in a while, that’s to be expected. We just removed the tube from your throat a couple of days ago,” she informed him casually while reviewing his chart. He opened his mouth to speak, swallowing down the dryness and taste of metal that coated his tongue. “Here,” She handed him a small cup of water. “Drink this. Be careful your throat might hurt a little,” she cautioned him. “I’m Dana by the way.” She nodded to the chalkboard. “And I’m your morning nurse,” she informed him with a warm smile. “Boy, David is going to be thrilled when he sees you.”
“David?” He parroted in a raspy tone before gulping down the last of his water. “Thank you.” He smiled as he handed her back the cup. “Who’s David?”
“Ahhh…” Dana opened her mouth signaling her patient to do the same. Christian mimicked her as she placed the thermometer in his mouth. He relaxed his head against the pillow while watching her every move. “So, what’s Victor doing today?” She giggled, glancing toward the television. Christian shrugged his shoulder somewhat confused, but what else was new.
Christian didn’t know it, but everyday at the same time, the television was turned on to the same channel. It was suggested by his doctor as a part of his therapy. She checked his pulse and jotted down notes while waiting for the instrument to beep. She smiled kindly before pulling the thermometer from his mouth, reading his temperature. “98.5. Perfect.”
“So what happened? Why am I here?” He asked as he watched her making notes in the chart. Dana nodded but didn’t look up from her pad until she was finished.
She took a deep breath, pressed the metal binder against her chest and asked. “How much do you remember?”
“Nothing…” He said disappointedly. “I take it I was in some sort of accident,” he suggested with a questioning gaze.
“I don’t know much about it, but yes,” she replied. “You suffered blunt trauma to the head at a work site.” She explained. Christian’s hand instinctively reached in his hair, searching for any truth to what Dana was saying. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed when his fingers grazed over a bald spot, gingerly tracing over the thick stiches, validating the nurse’s claim.
“Oh my god…” Christian mouthed in awe. “Is that why I can’t remember anything?” He asked receiving a slow nod from Dana. His next question was a valid one. “Is it permanent?”
“I need to get the doctor and call David,” Dana said as she turned to leave.
“So, I gather I’m married.” He held up his left hand. “I have kids?” He nodded toward the drawings.
“You do.” Dana smiled fondly at the pictures Christian’s boys had drawn. “I know you have a lot of questions. Most of them I’m not at liberty to answer. But Doctor Goens and David will fill you in when they get here.” She pressed her lips together into a tight smile.
“Where’s my wife?” He asked as he rested his back against the pillows. “And who’s David? My dad…my brother?”
“Um…David?” She repeated as she placed the chart down at the foot of the bed, “David is not your brother or father. David is your husband.”
“My what?” He gasped in totally disbelief, staring at her as if she had two heads. “Is that even legal?” He asked incredulously.
“It’s legal.”
“Well, that’s not possible. I’m not gay,” Christian stated simply.
- 28
- 1
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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