I stayed backstage with the children and the food (nothing like stress eating) while the guys taped.
To keep myself occupied and away from the candy table, I asked the girls “what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back home?”
Avery’s answer was quick. “Play with all of my dolls.” Jessica, trying her hardest to stand as close as possible, thought about it and replied quietly with the answer that I had come up with. “I don’t know.” Too right, you are.
Soon after the guys finished taping and the screams died down, everybody assembled into a back room for their quick good-byes.
I stood apart from the family and watched them all hug. Saying goodbye was always difficult but when it was the family splitting, it broke my heart. Mack ran over, squeezed for a moment and ran back into the fray of his family. Avery wandered over to wrap her arms around my waist. Jessica held onto my right hand with both of hers.
Mrs Hanson took Avery’s hand and pulled her to collect her backpack and its contents which were scattered on the floor. I turned down to Jessica and shrugged my shoulders. Tears pooled behind my eyes but I managed to suppress them. “I’ve got to go.”
My right side was still gripped in her surprisingly strong clutch. She muttered, “me too.”
Humor is always my solution. “Don’t look so depressed, I have to leave to go to college!”
We walked over to where her mother was corralling all things Hanson and attaching it to its appropriate owner (“Mackenzie, pick up your toys, please.”). I stood behind Jess and played with her hair so as to prolong the inevitable.
“Thank you, Mrs H.”
"For what?"
“For giving me this opportunity.”
“It was our pleasure. You made my life a lot easier. I’ll have the kids call you when we get home.” She looked over at them, "I know they’ll feel better-” she stage-whispered, “and be less cranky when they get to sleep in their own beds.”
"They will."
Susan was quietly but frantically signaling me from the hallway to hurry up. “All right, I’m off.” Quick and succinct kept me from blubbering all over the children.
Susan handed me my ticket and we sprinted past the burly security guard and out to the taxi, idling at the curb. “The boys had an interview so I sent them on ahead of us. You have your ID? I gave you back your passport, right?” Susan, always doing twelve things at once, spoke into her mammoth bag of everything. She could pull out any number of necessary and completely superfluous items at any moment. Needed a bandage? Ask Susan. Thirsty? Susan had juice, water, or soda. Take your pick. Isaac and I used to play a game where we’d think of a random, but basic, item and ask if Susan had it. More times than not her bag contained whatever we asked for.

Fitting that the place I said goodbye to the guys was the place where I met them. Airports always hold good memories for me. It is the start of a new adventure.
For me it was college and for the guys it was recording. We met up with Mr. Hanson, the guys and Jason in the VIP lounge at JFK airport. Long goodbyes had to be cut short as their flight boarded in a matter of minutes. Mr. Hanson searched through his bag hunting for the passports while Jason, Taylor and Zac discussed the concert taping. Isaac appeared at my side as Susan stepped away to confer with Mr. Hanson. "Hey, did you say good-bye?" He was nervous, I could tell because his hands fidgeted. A sure sign of Isaac with a dilemma is his hands.
“I did. It wasn’t too bad. No tears or anything. Your mom said she’s going to call when they get home.”
He made a reserved, "Hmmmm" sound. I stayed quiet.
After a few moments of awkward silence and more hand-wringing, I swung my bag down to the floor and announced, a bit too loudly that “I’m gonna go say good-bye to the others.” He merely nodded his head.
Good-bye to Taylor and Zac wasn’t difficult, mostly because Zac made me laugh so hard that I forgot to think about the fact that I probably wouldn’t see them again. Mr. Hanson just smiled in that all-knowing, fatherly way and said that he’d talk to me later. I hope so. Susan gave me a hug and Jason shook my hand. I had said good-bye to Bob and Louis at the theatre. I was definitely going to miss those two; they cracked me up and kept the mood light.
Isaac continued to stand guard at my bag, in case it decided to up and leave without me. “Okay, I should go. My gate is on the other side of the airport.”
“Yeah, I know..." His voice trailed off. He wouldn’t make eye contact. His warm eyes focused on the ad poster on the wall behind me. “Umm....you’re going to call, right?”
“Your mom is going to call for my number at the dorm before she leaves for England.” I didn’t like that neither of us had phone numbers; it reinforced my fear that I would never see or hear from them again. Fear of uncertainty creped into my head and I plowed through the speech that I had put together in my head. “Well it was a great summer. Thank you for everything. You’re going to have so much fun in England.” I could feel the familiar tightness in my chest and throat but I fought to remain steady and spoke faster. My hands, unable to do anything but look manic, waved around madly. “I’m excited to start school and you’re off to record. It’s good. It was fun.” I didn’t want to tears to show in front of him but I couldn’t leave yet. We must have looked strange staring each other down in our attempt to hide that we didn’t want to say goodbye.
Jason and the others congregated towards the door. “So, is that it?,” His words came out sharp and pointed like a kitchen knife.
My fear boomeranged. What if this wasn’t as difficult for him as it was for me? “I guess so. I have to get going. Don’t worry.” I tried to play off my insecurity. “You’re going to be so busy by tomorrow that you’re going to forget all about me.” His eyes met mine directly.
He leaned closer a fraction and an errant brown curl swung forward. “Trust me, Sam. I’m not going to forget you.” His soothing voice quieted the frenzy in my head. That hushed tone he adopts melts my insides like ice cream in July and calms me.
I leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this summer.” I paused, briefly unsure of whether or not to admit it. “I’ll never forget you either.” His eyes flickered and awareness passed between us. It didn’t have a chance to develop, however, as Susan stuck her face between ours. Her brusque ‘I have a job to do and you two aren’t going to prevent that’ manner cut through our connection. “Ike, we gotta go. Sam you’re going to miss your plane.”
I picked up my bag and turned for the door. We had had our moment, no sense awkwardly adding a feeble ‘bye’ and a limp hand wave to ruin it.

Jason held the door open for me. In the terminal, sun streamed through the giant windows and people hustled with luggage rolling behind them. Voices boomed out of speakers hidden in the ceiling, guiding (at full volume) commuters where they needed to go. I paused at the doorway, the strap of my bag digging into my shoulder, contemplating. One thought kept repeating in my mind like a record caught in a groove: “You’re never going to see him again. You’re never going to see him again. You’re never going to see him again.”
I turned around with such vigor that the centrifugal force of my bag almost pulled me back toward the doorway. Isaac stood pulling his backpack onto his shoulders. It took four steps to get back to my spot in front of him. His head tipped back slightly, unsure of what I was doing. With one hand holding my bag, ready to run, I touched my hand to his cheek with my thumb resting under his chin. He pulled back as his eyes widened but caught himself and froze. I leaned forward, tipping my head to the side and kissed him. His lips felt surprisingly warm. I hadn’t thought through my action and hadn’t figured on the sensation of warmth. It only lasted a moment, when I righted myself and pulled away his brown eyes were wide with surprise. I did not give him, or myself, time to recover. Nobody said anything but everybody wanted to. You could feel the words gathering on tongues, waiting to be let loose. My feet carried me through the doorway with unexpected speed. The curious looks in the room did not escape me but I forced myself to only look forward.
My body moved of its own volition, while my mind replayed the kiss.
A vice gripped my arm and spun me and I stumbled. The surprised brown eyes I left behind probed mine. His heated voice, so far from the quiet tone I loved, rose above the clamor of the terminal. "What was that for?"
I snapped out of my euphoria and stuttered. “I...I..don’t know.” My clumsy attempt at romance did not have the effect I had hoped.
“Why?” I almost shivered from the glacial manner emanating from him.
"Why, what? Why did I kiss you?" I backed away, pulling my upper arm from his grasp. "God you’re dense, Isaac." His attitude made me defensive and, in response, I lashed out. “I’m sorry but if you haven’t figured out that I like you then you have to be the dumbest person I’ve ever met.” My demeanor changed as I spoke. I didn’t cower but rather raised my chin and, figuratively, looked down at him.
His shoulders relaxed – the rigidity left him. His eyes searched my face; he looked baffled.
Jason put his hand on his shoulder and whispered “let’s go” in his ear. He nodded and, for a moment, our eyes locked before he let himself be led away.
My bravado act did not last long. I watched them walk away before continuing on to my flight. The ever-annoying voice in my head replayed what should have been a wonderful moment. You just admitted you like him. I accidentally bumped into a gentleman, looking at the information monitors, but the automatic sound of my apology did not sound convincing. I was too far into my mind at that point, replaying and analyzing. So much for your attempts at living the fairy tale.
I dropped my bag to the tiled floor and tried to figure out how to get to my gate through the tears that silently slid down my cheeks.
I trudged to my gate and collapsed into the nearest plastic chair. I don’t know how long I sat there; my sense of time had slipped a bit. My bag dragged across the floor when I realized the droning voice over the loudspeaker was calling my flight number and headed to the counter. The clerk at the gate opened his mouth to say something to me about me dragging my bag across the carpet but the words died on his lips when he saw my tear-stained cheeks.
“Are you hurt?” I laughed. “No, I’m not hurt – just emotional. Thank you.” I took my boarding pass and walked down toward the plane. My window seat had no one next to me Normally, I prefer aisle seats but the dark sky comforted me. Word had spread around the flight crew because a stewardess timidly leaned across the seats and asked, touching my arm, concerned. “Can I get you anything?” I sighed and turned my head. “Yeah, do you have anything to mend a broken heart?” I smiled at my feeble attempt at humor. The woman’s face crumbled and she touched a hand to her chest. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I wish I had something, really I do.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be all right. Do you have any tissues though?”
“Of course” She snapped out of her comforting mode and hurried to get me tissues.
Maybe I’m blowing this totally out of proportion? Maybe I’m being unreasonable? I deserved a little self-indulgence and turned back to stare out the window and softly cry. The stewardess came back with tissues; the rest of the flight crew left me alone.
I licked my lips and wondered it if was worth it. Was it worth it to ruin a great friendship for three split seconds? My mind wandered back to the shocked look on his face. At least he didn’t laugh, I thought, I guess that’s a good thing.
The bathroom lights burned my eyes as tried my best to look presentable for my family. My family had tons of questions. I made it through the ride home and the rest of the night surprisingly well. I got up from the dinner table and excused myself. Laying in bed, I stared at the wall for at least three hours before I finally succumbed to sleep.

Karen, azureina, has been telling me for years that her favorite scene from HTME is the Jakarta scene where Sami gets hurt. It is a particular favorite of mine as well but I hadn't given it much thought. Lately I've been looking for inspiration for the characters so I decided to backtrack and reread the scene that Karen still gushes over. Oh my god, it's horrible. I cringed at least once. I have to remember, though, that it is what it is. I was young when I wrote it and it got the point across. Now, I'm older and (sometimes) wiser so I planned on rewriting it for Karen as a gift - the file is actually titled rewriteforkaren.doc. I figured "a few additions here, a few there and I'm done." I am on page seven of a single-spaced Word document and it's only half finished. My last two updates combined barely reached six pages. Clearly I had some stuff to get out of my head.
So, here we are. I hope you enjoy this new version of the aftermath of the Hard Rock Cafe concert. I'll post more as I write it out:



I could not drag my eyes away from the screaming fans, their anger and frustration evident on their faces outside the car windows. Girls waved signs at any car or van that looked like it could have the guys in it. A few girls had tears streaming down their faces. Others looked lost, confused as to what to do or where to go.
Will they follow us back to the hotel? Will we be safe? Is everyone okay?
Susan’s voice broke through my head. “Samantha, are you all right?”
I snapped out of my haze to answer her, shocked by her angry tone. “I skinned my knee and my neck hurts – I think I pulled it or something.” My voice sounded tired - more tired than I realized. As I looked down at my knee, I noticed the trail of blood and how it contrasted against my pale skin.
My right hand snaked up to my neck, hoping to rub out the throbbing pain that was rapidly moving up the back of my head. My fingers touched a sticky liquid, however. Ah shit. Louis, sitting on the opposite side of the seat, grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. “Jesus, Sami, what the Hell happened?”
Susan, alerted by Louis’ expression, heaved herself over the front seat to look for herself. I caught the anxious look they gave each other before she readjusted herself to sit forward again. She whispered to no one in particular, “We need to get that looked at.” She reached for the phone in her bag at her feet, careful to keep calm. To the driver, she quietly asked, “can you drive a bit faster, please?”
Louis leaned over and covered my hand with his.
I could only hear Susan’s side of her conversation with Jason but it was enough. “Jason? ....no, I got them...No, Sami got hurt....she tore her knee and....” She turned around, with the phone to her ear to look at me. The look on her face made me think that she was afraid that I was going to expire right then and there. “yeah...No, she has a gouge in her back. It looks…” her voice cracked, “kind of bad.” She paused again. “we may, uh, we may need to get her to a doctor....yeah...Okay, we’ll see you there.”
No one had any tissues or napkins so my attempts at corralling the blood consisted of me wiping the blood onto my shorts so as to not stain the upholstery in the car.

The rest of the ride to the hotel was quiet. No one spoke. Considering the amount of screaming and rioting we had just endured, the quiet felt disconcerting. In a way, hearing nothing was as loud as the crowd that I could still hear inside my head.
My eyes felt so heavy. As they closed, my head fell forward slightly. I would catch myself and my eyes would open and I would sit straight again. The cycle repeated throughout the whole ride: eyes close, lean forward and drift into sleep, catch myself. Eyes close…
Louis sprang from the car like a coil to help me stand at the front door of the hotel. The driver hovered near his door; unsure of how much involvement he wanted. Susan pushed her enormous bag over her shoulder and put her hands out to help. Getting out of the car was a bit difficult as moving my knee in any way brought fresh blood seeping through the cut. I stood up and sort of shimmied out of the car. As we walked (I hobbled) through the automatic doors of the hotel, an attentive concierge thrust a box of tissues at us. I took one and gingerly touched the back of my neck with it. There were only a few people in the lobby at the time but I had their rapt attention. Louis made an attempt to carry me but I told him no. I could walk, albeit slower than usual. Susan buzzed around me like a fly, simultaneously trying hold the box of tissues, dab at my knee (while walking), issue me reassurances, declare to those around us that we were, “okay, just an accident” and try not to crack under the pressure of it all.

When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, I saw myself, full-effect, in the mirrored walls of the small elevator. Overhead fluorescent lighting is no one’s friend on a good day, but I looked particularly hellish that night. My khaki colored shorts had streaks of deep red across the front pockets where I had tried to wipe away the excess. My dark shirt, thankfully not white, looked as if it had been through a hurricane. My face appeared even paler than usual and my hair hung in slick clumps over my shoulders. My eyes, half-open and rimmed with red, made me look like a stoner on a weekend bender.
Susan kneeled down in front of me with the tissues and dabbed at my knee. I winced in pain. “Sorry, does that hurt?”
“A little” I replied sheepishly. Guilt had started to creep into my mind. I couldn’t help but feel like this was my punishment for not listening to Jason and staying in the van.
The elevator doors eased open and I saw Jason pacing the carpet. He spun to look at us but his face showed no sign of emotion. I feared he would be furious but he wasn’t. He didn’t look particularly happy (he never did) but there was no look of condemnation either.
Somehow in the short elevator ride my leg had fallen asleep so walking was even more awkward. It didn’t help that Susan was still buzzing around me, randomly blotting tissues to my skin. Louis moved to stand next to Jason and they quietly discussed the events while watching me intently.
Mrs Hanson poked her head out of a room further down the hall. She turned to speak to whoever else was in the room and then I watched her back out of the room, saying, “I’ll be right back. Stay here, please.” She walked toward me, braid down her back swinging gently.
I lifted one shoulder and a corner of my mouth as if that could encompass everything I was feeling.
“Oh Sam.” It breathed out of her mouth on the backend of a sigh.
“I’m fine. It’s really not that bad. It looks worse than it really is. I won’t be running or skipping for a few days but otherwise, I’m good.”
“Let’s get you into your room and assess the damage.” She waited for me to shuffle forward to rest her arm around my shoulders and guide me. I gingerly took her arm away from the wound. “Where is everyone?”
“In their rooms. We got back about twenty minutes ago. I told the kids that you fell behind and that you’d stopped somewhere on the way back to the hotel. No sense worrying them.”
Jason pulled a key card from the back pocket of his faded jeans and slid it into the reader. He held onto my elbow and helped me into my darkened hotel room. The bed was calling to me. I craved climbing underneath the covers and sleeping away the thoughts of the whole, awful night.
“All right. Sit down and let’s take stock.” Mrs Hanson swiftly shifted into full-on ‘Mom mode’ directing people, issuing orders and examining me. Should the Armed Forces ever need a drill sergeant, they need only look to her. Facing me, she gently put her hand under my calf and pulled my leg up to brace it between her knees. “Let me take a look.” She poked for a few moments, head bent over my knee. “Susan, can you get me a face cloth and run it under warm water? Jason call down to the front desk and ask for the first aid kit, please.” She looked up at me again. “It’s fine.” She smiled. “You’ll live. I’ve seen worse.”
She kept up the reassurances as she tenderly cleaned the wound with the facecloth that Susan had brought over from the bathroom.
I couldn’t help my voice from sounding weary. “I know this one’s not bad but I think you should look at my head.”
She looked over my forehead in confusion, brushing my hair away from my face with the back of her hand. “I don’t see anything.”
Louis cleared his throat from the other side of the room. “Uh, the back of her head. She has a fairly deep gouge back there.”
Mrs H put down my leg gingerly and leaned over me as I pulled my hair around to hold in front of my face. I winced as she peeled away the soiled tissues that I had stuck to the wound, hoping to stop the blood. A slow “oh” was all she said.
Jason cupped the phone receiver with his hand. “Should I call for a doctor?”
“I think that would be a good idea. It may need stitches.” She patted my shoulder as she said it, maintaining a sense of calm. I knew that “may need” really meant, “will need” but I let everyone think that I was naïve enough to believe their comforting words.
Jason turned away as he asked for a doctor perhaps trying to shield me from the reality of it. The bed sagged as Mrs H sat down next to me. “It’s not bad but I’d rather get a doctor’s opinion on it.”
Mr H entered the room after knocking quickly. I noticed that he still had his tan jacket on, the jacket that I desperately tried to keep in my line of vision at the restaurant. My nerve skidded a bit and I felt my chest tighten. Tears were the inevitable next step but I cleared my throat to suppress them. No sense adding to an already awkward situation. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I should have stayed in the van. I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I just wanted to see the guys perform.” My voice strengthened with each word. In my haste to explain myself, I had found my nerve again.
“Sam, nobody is blaming you.” Mrs H sounded shocked by the idea. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’re lucky more people weren’t hurt.”
Mr H leaned over my outstretched leg with his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Did you fall down?”
“I tripped on the concrete stairs in the restaurant. You had run ahead of me and I was right behind. Someone caught my foot as I ran up the stairs and I lost my balance. I landed on someone, I think. The crowd overtook me. The one on my neck is from someone grabbing me. I don’t think they did it on purpose, they may have lost their balance as well.” I shook my head. “There were just so many of them.”
“If I had known you had fallen behind, I would have stopped. I’m sorry.” Mr H put his hand on the top of my head. “I assumed that you were ahead of me by that time.”
The dull ache that had started at the base of my head was spreading. The pain was quickly turning into a full-blown migraine. I took the facecloth from Mrs Hanson and pressed it my forehead. “Are you getting a headache?”
“Yes. Do you think I can lie down?”
“Not yet. The doctor will be here soon.”
I felt the bright light from the hallway on my closed eyelids as someone came into the room. I assumed it was the doctor but Taylor’s voice broke through the quiet. “Is she okay?”
I looked up, trying to look upbeat. “Yeah. I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.” It didn’t sound very convincing, even to me.
Taylor grimaced a bit. “You look like you got hit by a bus.”
I smirked back at him. “Thank you, Taylor.”
I saw Taylor’s eyes shift to his mother so I assume she gave him a dirty look. He sulked. “I was only trying to lighten the mood.”
“Any other time and I’d agree but right now I just want to crawl under the covers and sleep.” I unfolded and refolded the facecloth in my hand, trying to find a clean corner to hold against my head.
“Why don’t you?”
“I’m waiting for the doctor.” I pushed the facecloth at him. “Here. Make yourself useful and wash that off in the sink for me.”
He delicately grasped a corner between two fingers and marched it arms-length away from his body into the bathroom. I heard the water turn on full-blast.
It felt like someone was pounding my forehead with a tack hammer. My started to lean back, rest on the bed but Mrs H’s hand pressed into my back. “No, not yet. We need you alert when the doctor gets here.”
“I can be alert in a horizontal position.”
Her irritated look was enough to shut me up.
A quiet knock on the door preceded Isaac’s appearance. I weakly attempted humor. “Come on in, we’re having a party.” Isaac’s body language matched his father’s – hands in pockets, shoulders slumped a bit. He stood back against the wall, trying to gauge the situation. Taylor came out of the bathroom with the facecloth in his hands. He leaned over to give it to me before standing back next to Isaac. I pressed the cloth to my forehead without thinking. “Ouch!” I pulled it away. “Taylor, are you trying to burn me? It’s hot.”
His eyes darted around the room, defending himself. “I wanted to get all the-” He paused. “germs off it.” His shoulders slumped even lower. Guilt made another appearance in my head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m just cranky.” He didn’t meet my eyes. I’m not sure if he accepted my apology.
Mrs H stood up. “I’ll be right back. I want to make sure the others haven’t ripped down the wallpaper or anything.”
Isaac lifted his head. “I left Zac with them.”
She didn’t even turn around. “That’s why I’m going to check.” And she was gone.
Uncomfortable silence descended again.
With Mrs H gone again, I leaned back against the comforter. It felt so good. I closed my eyes and wished for the room to clear. Susan wouldn’t let that happen. “Sam, come on. Get up. If you have a concussion, we need to make sure that you stay awake.”
I felt the bed sag again as someone sat next to me and hands pull me into a sitting position again. When I opened my eyes, ready to give Susan a dirty look, it was Isaac sitting next to me. “Uh. Oh.” My mouth formed monosyllables instead of words. I wasn’t expecting Isaac and my brain wasn’t functioning quickly enough to process the difference. Huh? I turned to look at Susan, she was still sitting in the chair at the desk. Back to Isaac and he looked at me with his big, brown eyes. I didn’t trust myself to attempt speech again. I put the facecloth to my forehead again and closed my eyes.
I was conscious enough to notice that Isaac didn’t move from his position next to me on the bed, however. Some things are just too potent not to make a difference.

Mrs H came back into the room sometime later (I lost track of time after awhile) and stood next to Mr H near the door. Shortly thereafter, the doctor arrived. I tried to be strong but fear had started to creep into my mind. I am not a big fan of doctors; it’s nothing personal but doctors mean illness and I’m not really thrilled about bad health.
The doctor was a short, round man with glasses that sat unusually close to his eyes. I’m not sure why I noticed that but it did. He didn’t stop for introductions or niceties. He walked over to me and leaned down to inspect my leg. By simple reasoning, I was probably the injured party but he barely acknowledged that anyone else was in the room.
Isaac moved to sit cross-legged on the carpet near my uninjured leg. The doctor leaned over to inspect my leg, giving me the image of him bowing. His hands were bunched into fists at his side and his back was rigidly straight. He stood like that for a few moments but it felt much longer. No one spoke. I don’t think anyone even breathed. The room was entirely silent. Finally he reached out and gripped my knee (none-too-gently, I might add) for a closer inspection. His English was not the best. That made me feel even worse. Great, I’m going to die because we have a language barrier. His brown leather bag of supplies was on the floor, next to his left foot. He pulled out a clear plastic bottle of liquid, some gauze and various other necessities. He poured some of the liquid onto a large square of gauze and wiped around the cut on my knee. He held the underside of my knee in a lock; I should have realized what was going to happen but my brain was too fuzzy. When he touched the liquid to the cut though, I nearly climbed to the ceiling. White-hot pain shot through my kneecap. I instinctively pulled away but the doctor’s grip held me in place. “Oh. My. God!” My outburst electrified the room – everyone jumped as if they had been zapped.
Isaac grabbed for my hand. I seized and held on as if it were a lifeline. The doctor continued pouring liquid unto my cut and my leg started to shake involuntarily. Tears pooled in my eyes. I didn’t stop them. Isaac squeezed my hand harder. The doctor dug into the cut with the gauze, clearing away any dirt or germs that might cause an infection. It hurt like hell but it didn’t last long. He took a roll of gauze and began wrapping my knee with it. And he didn’t stop until my knee was twice its original size. I had enough bandage around my knee to stop a tsunami.
The doctor straightened up “Where else you hurt?”
I silently pointed to the back of my neck and he made a small circular motion with his finger to signal me to turn around. I swung my legs over to the front of the bed, narrowly missing Isaac’s head.
Taylor moved to reach across the bed to my nightstand. He picked up my black scrunchie from next to the digital alarm clock. I raised my hand to take it from him but he pointedly ignored it and leaned over my head. He was trying his hardest not to pull my hair. He put the scrunchie around his wrist and was trying his damnedest to get all of my hair up. He raked his fingers through my hair before finally pulling it up into a ponytail. I meekly nodded my head and mouthed a thank you. He moved back to his position of holding up the wall while the doctor probed at my neck with his fingers. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck; he must have been leaning in close. I tried to be strong but I could not control my convulsions as he touched the wound. My stomach began to roll and I could taste the bile rising into my throat. Please don’t let me vomit.
“Squeeze my hand if it hurts.” Isaac, still holding on, tried to bolster me. I squeezed a little bit but I didn’t want to hurt him. The pain was so intense I feared that I might break a few of his much needed, guitar-plucking fingers.
I bit my lip and stared at the floor through tears. Isaac slid forward to face me. “Come on, you can squeeze harder than that” and raised an eyebrow. I chuckled a little; I couldn’t help it. He was trying so hard to make me feel better. The doctor, however, didn’t see the humor and pinched my shoulder to warn me not to move. Isaac threw him a thunderous look.
Finally the none-too-gentle doctor spoke and said. “The scratch from person. Two stitches. Will give medicine for pain and for sleep.”
The whole room expelled their collective breaths for the first time since the doctor had arrived.
“Do I- Do I need to go to the hospital for stitches?” I had turned my head to look at him but he was already digging into his brown bag of torture tools.
Before I could stop myself, I groaned. “Oh god.” Isaac squeezed my hand tighter.
I thought I saw the doctor pull out a long needle but I couldn’t be sure because I spun my head like a top to stare at the wall. My stomach rolled again. If he was pulling out needles and sharp objects, I didn’t want to see it because that meant that I would certainly vomit. I whispered to Isaac, “can you get me another face cloth and run it under cool water?” He dislodged my hand from his and moved swiftly before the last syllable passed my lips. My hand felt strange – almost abandoned. I had been clutching his hand for quite some time at that point.
Susan stood up. “I’m going to leave. I have a weak stomach. Sam, I’ll check back with you a little later.” I wanted to go with her. Louis and Jason followed Susan out. Not because they were queasy but because they wanted to give me a bit of privacy.
A facecloth appeared in front of my face. Isaac sat down again as I took it from him. The doctor pulled my shirt and pushed my hair further away before rubbing a noxious-smelling solution onto the area; it had a cooling sensation that felt oddly comforting. I winced as I felt a sharp object touch my skin. Isaac, again, reached for my hand. I covered his hand with my other hand and prepared myself for the worst.
The stitches themselves didn’t hurt all that much. It was not a pleasant feeling, by any means, but I assumed that there would be pulling or tearing. Whatever solution he put on my skin must have numbed it.
Someone held out a glass of water and two white pills in front of my face. I released Isaac’s hand and greedily took them. The doctor cleaned up his supplies and when I heard the zipper of his bag, I curled into a ball at the end of the bed. The pills worked fast. My eyes were closed before my head rested against the comforter.
“Sami, what happened?” Isaac’s voice sounded plaintive and very close to my ear.
My eyes fluttered open with some difficulty. “Please don’t take this the wrong way but can we do this later? I appreciate your support but sleep is my only objective right now.” His face fell and I bolstered my energy to raise my head off the bed. Leaning in close, I murmured, “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I just want to sleep.”
Mrs H pulled on the bottom hem of my shorts. “Sam, sweetie, we need to get you out of those clothes so you can go to bed.”
“I’ll stay in these, please just let me go to sleep.” She wasn’t going to take no for an answer and walked over to my opened suitcase on the floor by the windows. “Is this okay?” I didn’t even look, I just shook my head yes. Sitting up made my head spin in circles. “Isaac, hun, why don’t you head off to bed. You too, Tay. I’m just going to put her to bed.”
“I’m really sorry about this. I should have stayed with you and the kids.”
“Stop, you didn’t ask for this. You just wanted to see what it was all about.”
“I keep remembering it and thinking of what would happen if the you and the kids had gone in.”
She gripped both of my shoulders and put her face right in front of mine. I had to blink to focus. “Stop thinking about that. I don’t want to think about it so neither should you. We didn’t go in and we are fine so stop.”
“I know but-“
“Enough, your only thoughts should be of feeling better. No lie back and go to sleep, we’ll see you in the morning.”