Merry Christmas!…sort of.

Waking up this morning, I knew it was going to be a wet day. It’s been in the fifties and sixties for the past week or so, and it started raining last night. Again.

After October, in particular, I am truly sick of rain. It could rain for a solid week, let up briefly, and then begin again. I wasn’t even in the worst of it, since I was at college to the north. In the Little Rock area, there has been talk of a possible Wettest Year Ever since about June.

A glimpse of Little Rock today, courtesy of Today's THV.

It started out as a peaceful morning with some light cooking, house-cleaning, and final decorating (the latter two for the Christmas party on Saturday). Then Dad and I drove to Walmart to get some last-minute things for Mom. I-30 bound for Little Rock was gridlocked–no movement whatsoever, hundreds of cars, trucks, and semis trapped. That’s unusual even in the worst rush hours. Little Rock may be the biggest city in the state, but it doesn’t hold a candle to some of the cities I’ve visited as far as traffic.

The overpass we were crossing marked the near end of the line of cars, which coiled away out of sight to the underwater roads several miles away. We continued to Walmart and a call to Mom had her watching the news to find out what exactly was going on.

Little Rock, only a few miles away, is currently inaccessible by any normal routes, and possibly by the back ways, too. Oh, joy.

The parking lot at Walmart was beginning to flood, and I had to pry wet, bent shopping carts apart to get one (with the kind help of an older man)–there were less than ten free and unused inside, all on the side near the food. The shopping went quickly and out into the drenching rain we went once more, dodging the patches of several-inches-deep water in the sinking parking lot.

As we  drove across the overpass once more, the gridlocked traffic stretched out of sight on both sides, the lanes leading from Little Rock strangely empty except for (very) local traffic. The access roads were the same.

Some investigation once at home showed that there was some pretty severe flooding in and around Little Rock. Thank God my parents’ home is out of the flood plane, even if the entirety of the neighborhood is not.  It turns out that my apartment is facing a night of near-blizzard  conditions, with 6-10 inches of snow accumulation with some ice in there somewhere and plenty of wind to top it off.

That’s some pretty significant bad weather for Arkansas. I remember the one time in my life that we were expecting 9-12 inches of snow. I was quite young and school was closed in anticipation of the white flakes. I don’t think there have ever been near-blizzard conditions, at least in my memory, during my lifetime. I won’t be there to see this snow, but that might not be a bad thing.  I already got to deal with an ice storm this past winter–which took out power over a good swath of the city, closed the university for nearly a week, and sparked a rush on nearby hotels–and at this rate there’s a good chance of one later on this winter.

Having decided that getting to (or near) Little Rock was just not an option, Mom and I redirected cooking efforts to make a nice Christmas Eve lunch at home–we already had a nice platter of honey-baked ham and a pineapple casserole that is a common request over the holidays, so we dug through the pantry to find some things to finish it off. What was meant to be a day of partying with extended family and, really, whoever they felt like bringing, became a quiet day at home with my parents, two dogs, and a cat.

As flooding continues and more of I-30 disappears under the flow of water, Dad carefully picks the worst movies on television, Mom dabs at Gretchen’s eyes with an eye-cleaning cloth to give her dying eyes some relief, and the cat paces, jingling, toward the tree to try to steal another bow off of the presents. Prince has curled into a tight ball next to Dad, his doggy mind in bliss as he naps.

I can’t say that I’m glad that we, and much of the family, were unable to get to Uncle Jack’s (he’s the sort who is everyone’s uncle, really), but then again I can’t say I’m disappointed with the way things have turned out on this soggy Christmas Eve. I can only hope that tonight’s low of 28 and continuing precipitation doesn’t make tomorrow yet more treacherous.

After all, what is Christmas without the traditional and often hilarious family lunch?

As I type, one lane in each direction has opened on I-30. I can imagine the miles-long backup of cars slowly funneling through, hours late to their destination, all because it’s the wettest year in Little Rock history (with, according to local weather, an astounding 80.49″ of rain so far).

Merry Christmas!

So tell me…

What should I write about next?

(polls)

Expand your mind:
A bleb is an irregular bulge in the plasma membrane of a cell caused by localized disconnection of the cytoskeleton from the plasma membrane. Blebbing is the term used to describe the formation of blebs and is sometimes referred to as zeiosis. It is also a type of blister. I think it’s fun to say. Bleb.

An Essay on Awakenings

This is an essay I’m writing for one of my classes. It is a critique of the portrayal of psychological abnormalities in the media, in this case Awakenings. (As a side note, I must comment that I grin every time I see the character Waheedah, credited simply as “Hysterical Woman.”)

“The Knife-Edge We Live On” [1]

Not long after the end of World War I and the onset of an epidemic of influenza, another virus attacked almost five million people throughout the world, and then suddenly disappeared in the 1920s. Encephalitis lethargica, or sleeping sickness, killed about one third of its victims and left the health of many others devastated. Years after a seeming recovery, many began take a turn for the worse, eventually having to be hospitalized. Awakenings (1990) takes place in New York in 1969, decades after the outbreak of encephalitis lethargica. Robin Williams plays Dr. Malcolm Sayer, a newly hired neurologist at Bainbridge Hospital who finds that a good number of his patients are like “living statues,” cut off from the world by their immobility. Intrigued, he investigates their histories, finding a common thread in their cases of encephalitis in the 1920s. He also begins to suspect that their symptoms add up to an atypical form of Parkinsonism. After some research, he becomes intrigued by an experimental drug, L-DOPA, and manages to get permission to start one of these patients on it. That patient, Leonard Lowe (Robert De Niro), experiences a seemingly miraculous awakening, but his wellness is short-lived—before long, tics and severe schizophrenia-like side effects begin to appear. As the movie focuses so closely on Leonard, I will, as well.

Awakenings is based upon the book of the same name originally published in 1973 by Dr. Oliver Sacks, the person upon whom the fictional Dr. Sayer is based. Leonard Lowe is based upon one of Dr. Sacks’ patients at Beth Abraham Hospital (a chronic hospital in the Bronx that is referred to as Mount Carmel in the book) who is presented in one of the book’s case studies. Called Leonard L., Dr. Sacks said of the man that he was “an ‘ideal’ patient” (p. 204)[2]. In contrast to his fictional counterpart, Leonard L. communicated readily with Dr. Sacks, despite his inability to speak, by indicating letters on a letter board. That had been his only method of communication for more than a decade. When asked what it felt like to be in his condition, Leonard said, “’Caged. Deprived’” (p. 205). He spent much of his time reading, as long as someone could turn the pages for him, and quickly became the hospital librarian and source of book reviews for the hospital’s monthly newsletter.

Dr. Sayer becomes fascinated by Leonard Lowe and, despite the mocking of his colleagues, sets out to find a cure. In the beginning, Lowe is confined to a wheelchair and wears a bib. He appears to be completely unresponsive, like all of the other “living statues” who have essentially been cut off from the world for about three decades. They all have a highly similar presentation, which by itself raises red flags as far as medical accuracy. All of them are wheelchair bound, nonverbal, and unresponsive unless an object is tossed at them (something that Dr. Sayer discovers when a patient’s glasses fall off) or a pattern is presented to them (such as music or a checkered floor). When Dr. Sayer discovers a drug so new that no one truly understands it, he becomes determined to try it on his patients. Lowe is the only one to receive it at first, due to the astronomical cost. This is a major point of historical inaccuracy—Dr. George Cotzias experimented with L-DOPA on Parkinson’s patients and he and his colleagues published a paper that helped bring the new drug into the spotlight, such that “[b]y March 1967, the…patients at Mount Carmel had already heard of L-DOPA: some of them were eager to try it at once …” (p. 34). The price began to decline sharply in late 1968 and that, in combination with other factors, led Dr. Sacks to start trying L-DOPA in early 1969. Leonard was the first to receive it, but not the only one.

Lowe shows no reaction at first, so methods of administering the drug and dosages are changed. Impatient, Dr. Sayers slips into the pharmacy in the middle of the night to get more to give to him. Within hours, Lowe is wandering the darkened halls of the hospital and determinedly writing his name in black crayon (his name is used throughout the movie as a symbol of his mental and physical status). Over the next couple of days, Leonard makes a full return to normalcy—he becomes the hospital celebrity as the first to overcome his illness. Dr. Sayer is then determined to start all of the patients like Lowe on the experimental drug without waiting to see Leonard’s reaction to the drug. Amazingly enough, the only thing holding him back is money, a hurdle that he quickly jumps. All of the other patients return to normal and begin making up for lost time. Dr. Sayer begins to worry when Lowe begins to display a minor tic. When Lowe explodes and is isolated to a high security ward, the other patients begin to worry as well—will that be them? After Lowe attacks him, Dr. Sayer does not report the incident, or tell anyone about it. Luckily, the incident snaps Lowe out of his paranoid state and he is able to return to the general population, where his tics gradually worsen until he is in the same state as he was before L-DOPA. Lowe’s experience suggests that the other patients will follow in his footsteps. Many of the other patients whose courses on L-DOPA were quite different from Leonard’s—in some cases much more successful—are ignored in favor of telling a more heart-wrenching story.

Though it never names them as such, Lowe’s symptoms greatly resemble schizophrenia, induced by L-DOPA as his Parkinson’s was induced by encephalitis lethargica. As is a common conception, he becomes very dangerous while experiencing these symptoms. He becomes delusional and paranoid as his tics grow more pronounced, leaving a hospital full of doctors completely helpless toward or ignorant of his condition. When the shocking nature of his own behavior catches up with him, however, he is able to overcome his delusions and no one seems terribly concerned about a relapse. Though Robert De Niro spent a significant amount of time watching documentary footage of Leonard L. to nail down his depiction of the tics displayed by the post-encephalitic patients, it does not seem that the same dedication was present in the rest of this movie. It is hard to believe that so many medical professionals had no idea how to address schizophrenic symptoms in their star patient, especially when it was likely that other patients would begin to show the same effects. Dr. Sacks notes in his book that they had been using other treatments for Parkinsonism before beginning L-DOPA, which was not the first drug to treat Parkinson’s, but the best at the time. A synthetic alternative to the neurotransmitter dopamine, it was meant to replace the dopamine found to be lacking in Parkinsonian brains. This is briefly covered in the movie. It neglects that L-DOPA’s effects were unpredictable from person to person; thus, it would have been irresponsible for Dr. Sayer, using a very new and highly experimental drug, to assume success after a trial consisting of only one person using the drug for only a few days. It is, however, spot on in its derision of “miracle drugs,” such as Freud’s belief in cocaine.

One of the major failings of this movie is that it attributes this amazing discovery about post-encephalitic patients to one person, who fought against all odds and managed to cure all of his patients, even if that cure was fleeting. It plays on the fact that none of the other characters in the hospital were familiar with the sleeping sickness, which was still very much in the public consciousness at that time, even though it’s almost forgotten today. All in all, the movie adaptation of Awakenings seems to be more concerned with showing the development of Dr. Sayer as a person, both socially and personally, after interacting with a man who finds joy in life despite an extraordinary illness. It depicts the growth of a relationship between Dr. Sayer and a nurse named Eleanor as he gains social confidence. Because of this, and despite De Niro’s research into Leonard L., Awakenings tends to neglect some of the most fascinating parts of this unusual illness. On the other hand, it is engaging to the layman where the book it is based upon is not (being too full of medical terminology and probably too dry for someone not already interested). The attitude displayed in this movie can be summed up in Dr. Sayer’s words: “What we do know is that…another awakening took place; that the human spirit is more powerful than any drug…This is what we’d forgotten – the simplest things.” It is a good introduction to the subject, when taken for a fictionalized story and followed by reading and research, but is ultimately a very sentimental movie that sacrifices much of its accuracy to the cause of a good story.

---

[1] Title borrowed from a quote about the book by Doris Lessing.

[2] Sacks, Oliver. Awakenings. New York: Vintage Books, 1990.

So you want to toilet train your cat? Part 2

Part 1 is here.

Step 3:

Allow the cat to become accustomed to the bowl and litter.

It seems simple enough to us, but it’s a huge leap to move from using a litter box to using a litter bowl suspended in a toilet.

On Day 2, Frazier woke me up much earlier than I really wanted to get up and proceeded to act distressed, pacing around with plaintive meows, obviously hoping that he could have his litter box back. I put him in his makeshift litter bowl, but he had no interest and decided to dump a good amount of litter into the toilet bowl proper. After about an hour of arguing, he gave in and went in the bowl. However, he was still agitated and I followed him around as he scratched furtively at various places on the floor. He finally hunkered up next to the toilet and found himself plopped in the bowl before he could finish pooping. After that, he proceeded to pretend that he didn’t have to go for about twelve hours.

On Day 3, Frazier successfully used the toilet without prompting. I will wait to try to improve his posture once he’s a bit more comfortable with the idea. Frazier and I traveled to my parents’ home for Thanksgiving break in the afternoon, a significant drive. He gladly took advantage of the litter box I keep in the floorboard. Twice. Since we’ll be here almost a week, training will continue here.

Step 4:

Correct posture and work on the proper squats.

There are two different squats that the cat will have to master. A low one for peeing, and a high one for pooping. If you’ve ever seen a cat in a litter box, you know that they already have some idea of this. The trick is getting them to do it on the narrow surface of a toilet seat. Frazier started with two feet on the seat, so I only had to convince him to get the other two up there. I did this by waiting until he had squatted as he had for the past several days, then lifting one foot onto the toilet seat. The key to this is that a cat can’t stop going once they’ve started. When he succeeded at this, he received extra treats.

The next significant change was on Day 8, when Frazier spontaneously put a third paw on the toilet seat. He hit the jackpot on treats for that one. I still haven’t really changed the amount of litter by much, yet, since I don’t want to stress him unduly. After all, stress likely equals a soiled rug.

Fast forward a couple of days and we began working on form. Every time he went into the bathroom, I encouraged him to put an extra paw on the seat. we’ve almost got the third paw up there.

Over the following couple of weeks, I didn’t push him very hard as exams were approaching. He became quite accustomed to the idea of a bowl in the toilet and I slowly–probably more slowly than necessary–reduced the amount of litter. He accepted the idea of four feet on the seat with some reluctance.

Step 5:

Replace the litter with water.

Just like the transition from box to bowl, this is a difficult one to master. One of the problems is the cat slipping into the water, which Frazier has done a number of times. Thankfully, it hasn’t turned him off using the toilet. This step simply requires a lot of encouragement that the bowl still serves the same purpose, even if it’s filled with a different substance. Slowly increase the amount of water in the bowl each day. This is the penultimate step.

Then, this past Sunday (December 20), he switched to water. Much like the switch from litter box to litter bowl, the transition from litter to water is stressful. Frazier tries to pretend that he doesn’t need to go, and he hasn’t accepted that the toilet still performs the same function yet. If I had pushed him a bit harder with the litter, he might have made the jump to the toilet without his friend the mixing bowl by now, in time for the Christmas party, but at least water is less offensive to the eyes than litter. And easier to clean.

Part 3 after Christmas.

So you want to toilet train your cat?

So do I. That’s why I’ve started this afternoon in what will likely be a long but ultimately rewarding ordeal. I present this as the beginning of a multi-part tutorial and journal.

Introduction

First, I’ll introduce my cat so you can see what I’m working with. Frazier is a little more than a year and a half old, indoor only, and very laid back for his age (excepting when he is exposed to vacuums or tall people). He spent a month of his life in a shelter, as a kitten, and adopted me as soon as I walked into the room.

Meet Frazier.

He’s a very well-behaved cat and knows very well what’s off limits (judging by his expression on the rare occasion that he ignores this). He thrives on verbal praise and petting as well, so those will be the majority of his rewards.

A couple of important things to remember before setting off on this odyssey:

1. This is much more stressful for the cat than for you–your cat doesn’t know why this is happening and may show his frustration by urinating or defecating somewhere else. If that happens, back up a step or two and take things slowly.

2. If your cat is not already litter box trained, this is not a good idea. It’s best to train your cat to use a litter box before you try this, as this builds on a cat’s use of a litter box (as you’ll see below).

3. Some cats just will not do this. The cat should be able to accept change. If the cat is too high strung, this may not work, or may take a very long time. Also, a cat that has balance problems, or very young kittens, may be incapable of managing the squats.

Step One:

Decide what you want and get supplies.

I began by reading various tutorials, most notably “How to Toilet-Train Your Cat” by karawynn, and watching videos to get an idea of what I thought would work for Frazier. Every cat is different, so not every thing tutorials suggest works for everyone.

Since Frazier is a sizable cat, I decided to go with karawynn’s suggestion to get a metal mixing bowl rather than something plastic, since falling in the toilet would completely turn him off of the whole thing. Instead of a solid bowl, some people opt to use a colander. If you choose to go that route, make sure that there are plenty of holes in the bottom, and that they are small enough that the litter won’t escape through them. You will still have to scoop solid waste, but urine will filter right through. If neither of those work for you, there are kits such as CitiKitty and Litter Kwitter, which involve plastic trays of various sizes.

Step Two:

Set up the toilet.

You might have noticed, if you have read other tutorials, that I have skipped a step. As Frazier’s litter box has always been next to the toilet, he is accustomed to the idea, so I didn’t have to move it. I also decided not to raise the litter box because of limited supplies and, knowing Frazier’s personality, I suspected that he could cope with the jump. (For a cat that is not so accepting of change, move the litter box close to the toilet, preferably beside it for your own convenience. Raise it a few inches every day, or at a rate that will work for your cat, until it is level with the seat of the toilet. At this point, some tutorials suggest putting the litter box on top of the toilet seat. And now we move forward.)

It’s important to make sure that the bowl will fit well in the toilet. If it’s too small, the cat will be more wary of using it than he has to be and it will be less stable. If it’s too big…well, you can guess. The store I went to had only three sizes, so I got the middle one and some 14 gauge wire. I wrapped the wire around the lip of the bowl and hooked the ends over the rim of the toilet (not the toilet seat) to hold it in place. That way, I can remove it at will as I wouldn’t be able to if I had used tape. Unfortunately, my toilet is long and shallow (such is the burden of living in an apartment…) and the bowl must sit in the water to be placed.

Then, I poured a generous amount of litter in the bottom of the bowl. I don’t have flushable litter because it’s not much use when your landlords don’t allow you to flush it anyway, but you might prefer it. A decent amount has already ended up being flushed.

You may want to pick up any rugs or other inviting surfaces in the bathroom to avoid their adoption as a surrogate litter box, since some cats don’t take well to the next step.

Step Three:

Introduce the cat to the idea.

So far, your cat has probably spent a good amount of time wondering why her litter box keeps getting taller, and now it’s gone altogether. Now she gets to find out why.

Frazier was already lingering outside the door to the bathroom, curious about the shiny things I had been messing with. When I scooped him up to show him my handiwork, he was afraid that I was about to dump him in the toilet, which he well knows is filled with w-a-t-e-r. I placed his hind legs in the bowl and he relaxed a bit, but still escaped as soon as I released him.

A while later, I tried it again and he was more receptive to the idea. He hopped down as soon as I let him, but he had still earned himself a treat for his patience. I waited a while again before trying a third time. He placed  all four paws in the bowl, sniffed at the litter, and pawed it around a bit before hopping down. I caught his attention by moving the litter around in the bowl. He hopped up by himself and pawed it around, explored, and then left. Yet later, I set him in the bowl a fourth time. This time, he squatted and took care of some business that was probably, by then, quite urgent. I praised him, petted him, and gave him two treats.

I’ll let him get used to this change before continuing. Look for Part Two in a few days.

Consider this an experiment.

As you might have guessed, I have a great interest in psychology. When mixed with an assignment in a creative writing class to write a short story, this is the result.

Critique is welcome, of course, but this story is over a year old now and may not be changed even for very good suggestions. ASK BEFORE REPOSTING as I am very protective of my work.

Seven Minutes

On the worst day of his life, he arrived at the hospital to find Roselle’s parents huddled together in the emergency waiting room. He sat next to them. “Any news?” he asked.

“She’s in surgery,” said Mr. Dotty. His eyes were bloodshot. “Did you know anything about what she was planning, Levi?”

“Colin!” scolded Mrs. Dotty. “You know Levi would have told us.”

An uneasy silence fell as they settled in to wait and Levi realized with surprise that he was still wearing his graduation robes. His hat was gone, though, and he wasn’t sure where it had gone. It was a couple of hours before a doctor arrived. Mr. Dotty was on his feet instantly.

“Dr. Edwards, how is she?”

Dr. Edwards motioned for Mr. Dotty to sit down. “Roselle is in intensive care. We have induced a coma for now, to protect her brain from further damage.”

“How bad is it?” asked Mrs. Dotty, her voice quavering with tiredness and worry.

“We don’t know yet. I’m concerned that she may have damaged her hippocampus.” Mr. Dotty opened his mouth. “That’s a structure right about here,” said Dr. Edwards, pointing. “It plays a part in making short term memories become long term memories, among other things.”

“Is she going to remember us?” asked Mrs. Dotty, horrified.

“Probably,” said Dr. Edwards. “It’s always hard to tell with brain injury. It’s most likely that she will have most or all of her memories from before the incident, but we’re worried about anterograde amnesia.”

“What does that mean?” asked Mr. Dotty, hesitantly.

“That means,” said Dr. Edwards, “that she may not remember anything after the incident. Sometimes, there is a gap before the incident, but other than that, memories that are already formed are usually intact.”

“So she might not remember…what happened?” asked Levi. Mrs. Dotty jumped as if she had forgotten that he was there.

“It’s hard to say. Despite all we’ve learned, the mechanics of the brain is still greatly unknown. All I can say is that by the looks of it, the area around the hippocampus is badly damaged and the hippocampus is involved in creating long-term memories. I wish I could tell you more. Now it’s a waiting game.”

~ ∞ ~

I hate this part.

She wakes up slowly, disoriented, and asks where she is. Today, she had gone on vacation and hit her head. A surfing accident, maybe. She always liked surfing. I haven’t been able to tell her the truth since the first time.

“Where’s Lucas?” she asks, sitting up. “I have to tell him something.”

The hope in her eyes is worse every time. “You were in a car wreck.”

She gasps, covering her mouth. “He’s all right. Tell me he’s all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

I hold her as she sobs, waiting for her to forget. Seven minutes. It’s always seven minutes.

I don’t know how many more stories I have left. If I have to lie, she deserves good lies. Exciting ones. Six minutes.

~ ∞ ~

The noise of the crowd died down as Roselle stood to speak. Her hands shook as she shuffled through the papers on the podium and Levi wondered if she had stage fright. He didn’t think that she ever had before. Her voice was thin and wavering when she finally began to speak and she clutched at the podium with white-knuckled hands as she delivered a speech that was not the one Levi had helped her to write.

Levi frowned and sat up straighter. He had a clear view of her because most of the other graduates were slouched in their seats, probably wondering when they could get their diplomas and leave. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke in rambling circles.

Then she brought up the car wreck, a night she had vowed never to relive for anyone. Evan Cameron and Janie Cloche straightened on either side of him. Like everyone else, they had read about it in the newspaper. Despite her robes and the valedictorian sash draped over her shoulders, Roselle looked like a little girl–shoulders hunched, an inexplicable sense of helplessness about her. The principal, a tiny wisp of a woman, leaned over and whispered something to the senior sponsor, who shrugged helplessly. This isn’t the speech she turned in, he could almost hear her saying. That one was inspiring. He craned over the lanky boy in front of him, who was whispering to the girl at his right.

Roselle’s eyes locked on his and he felt a growing unease. Had she lied to him? An unexpected movement caught his eye and he turned his attention to Roselle’s hand in time to see her reaching down the front of her robe and withdrawing–

Shit.

Shouts of surprise and fear rang out around him as she pulled out a pistol. He watched in horror as she aimed the gun at her own head and pulled the trigger.

She had left the safety on. Thank God, the one thing she didn’t do right. He fought against the fleeing students, determined to get to her before she could try it again, as he knew she would. He caught a glimpse of her fumbling with the safety as the teachers remaining on stage tried to talk her down.

BANG.

Levi finally broke free of the crowd as screams began anew, just in time to watch Roselle fold toward the ground behind the podium. He pushed past the policemen who, with their guns drawn, were warily approaching her. One of them grabbed at his shoulder and shouted at him, but he twisted away.

“Rose,” he breathed. She was still as death and her blonde hair was matted with blood. However, her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

“You’ll be all right.” He wondered if she could hear him, hear the desperation in his voice. He should have known. He should have known.

~ ∞ ~

I hate this part.

Her parents are here this time, when she wakes up. They still tell her what happens, over and over. It’s cruel, and today is a bad day anyway. She can’t remember the truth, but she can feel the pain. I wait until her parents have left. Her tears are forgotten and she is filling out a square of Sudoku in a book her parents gave her.

She looks up.

“Levi! I didn’t hear you come in. Mom should’ve told me you were coming to visit. Lucas was going to come over later.”

“He’ll be a little bit late.”

“Oh.” The disappointment passes quickly. “Do you know, I wasn’t good at Sudoku a few days ago, but now it’s almost too easy. It’s weird. Lucas is coming over later, did you know?”

I don’t correct her on either count. She’s been practicing Sudoku for years, now. She is silent for a few minutes.

“Levi! When did you come in? Have you been there long?”

“No, not long at all.”

~ ∞ ~

The back room was hot and crowded with far too many people, most of them swathed in black.

She was beautiful in the shapeless black robe and tasseled pasteboard hat. Her hair flowed down her back in a perfect sheet and her valedictorian smile was blinding. Even so, he pulled her aside.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” said Levi. “I know–”

“Levi, I’m fine. You worry too much.”

His eyes narrowed as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “You’re not taking those pills the hospital gave you.”

“Of course I am,” she snapped, ducking her head and scrubbing fiercely at her eyes. He caught her by the shoulders and waited until she looked up at him.

“Tell me the truth.”

“So I missed a couple,” she said. “Can’t we talk about something else? We’re about to graduate!” Something wasn’t quite right with the happy squeal in her voice or the brightness that suddenly filled her expression..

“You know how you got last time,” Levi said seriously.

She sighed and shook her head at him. “I’m fine.”

“At least promise me you’ll take one when you get home.”

“Done,” she said without hesitation. “Now, stop being a spoilsport and come say hi to Sara.”

~ ∞ ~

I hate this part.

She wakes up with a jolt and looks around frantically. She sighs in relief when she sees me. “You look awful,” she says.

Two years of this, I think, and even you wouldn’t look wonderful.

“Where am I?” It’s winter. She was in a skiing accident. She’s in a hospital in Colorado, see the snow? “Where’s Lucas?”

He’s a patient in another room. He’ll come visit when he’s well enough. She smiles. “I don’t know how I could forget such a wonderful vacation,” she says.

“Wonderful?”

“You and Lucas are here. It’s perfect.”

Seven minutes. I want it to be longer.

~ ∞ ~

He found her at the bend in the road over the river–the most dangerous bit of road in the county. Her black dress whipped in the wind as she gazed down at the churning water. Children told tales about that river–its current was so strong, Levi had heard once, that if you so much as put a finger in it, it can drag you away.

Mascara streaked her cheeks as she looked up at him. She looked odd with make up. Older. “Whenever I drive by here, I just want to keep going straight. But I can’t.”

“Roselle, please,” said Levi. “You know this isn’t what he would want.”

“What if it’s what I want?” she said testily. “We were going to get married. He had just asked me. Right here.” She began to sob. “He was going to wait until we got to IHOP, but we were fighting. I made him stop here.” Levi caught her as she collapsed and she buried her face in his shirt. “Why can’t I do it?”

“You have so much more to live for,” Levi said. “You’re going to be valedictorian.”

“I don’t want it!” she cried, pounding a fist against his chest. “Not after this.”

“Live for me, then,” he said. “I don’t know what I would do without you. We’ve been friends as long as I can remember.”

“Since fourth grade,” she said, looking quizzically up at him.

“So I have a bad memory,” he said. She didn’t smile. “Please, Roselle, I know it’s hard…”

She didn’t respond for a while, but then she broke away from him. “We’re going to be late,” she said, rubbing at her eyes and smearing her mascara further. She looked like a ghost.

“Ride with me,” he said gently. She shook her head.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said, setting off toward her car.

He couldn’t answer.

~ ∞ ~

I hate this part.

She blinks awake and looks around, confused. “Levi?” she says. “Why are you in my bedroom?” She sits up, eyes widening. “Is Lucas okay?”

“He’s on his way. Try to rest.” She nods and asks for a book. There is one in the drawer. She’s read the first page more times than I can count.

Seven minutes.

Six.

Five.

It’s already fading.

~ ∞ ~

Levi was already slowing down when Maryam said, “Pull over! Pull over!”

He flung the door open and jumped out as Maryam fumbled with her seatbelt. Red and blue lights reflected off of Roselle’s glittery dress as she shouted at a paramedic. When she noticed Levi, she barreled into him. She was sopping wet. “They won’t let me see Lucas!” she cried.

Maryam arrived, carrying her shoes. “What happened?” she demanded.

“We were–we had pulled over and this car just ploughed into the side of his car. He has to be all right.” Levi saw Maryam look doubtfully toward the twisted guardrail.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Levi. He brushed Roselle’s dripping hair away from her face. It had been really pretty an hour or so ago, but now it was just a muddled mess. Her dress glowed red and glittered black as the lights flashed behind her.  “Are you all right?”

“Just a few bruises,” she said dismissively.

“Your arm is bleeding,” said Maryam.

She gave Maryam a feeble smile. “I think I hit a rock on the way up. Really, I’m fine.”

The same paramedic that had quietly suffered her abuse a few minutes before approached and said, “Miss, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“I want to ride with Lucas,” she said.

“No, ma’am, we need to get you onto a stretcher. Just in case.” He gave Levi a pointed look. Levi nodded to Roselle.

“Maryam and I will meet you there,” said Levi. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

The guardrail was wrapped in yellow caution tape and it creaked ominously in the wind. “He’s dead,” breathed Maryam as they climbed into the car. “No one can lose that much blood and not be dead.”

~ ∞ ~

I hate this part.

Today, as she wakes up, it is to find out that she passed out while skydiving with Lucas, who is in the bathroom down the hall, still vomiting. She smiles, as radiant as ever. She won’t even remember brushing her teeth this morning by now.

“You look terrible.”

“I know.”

Seven minutes.

~ ∞ ~

Maryam was still beautiful, even after several hours in a hot conference room. Her dress made her look like a tropical bird. Even so, his mind was elsewhere. “Where are they?” said Levi.

“I don’t know,” she said, not looking up from her menu. “Do you think they’ll mind if we order?”Several couples passed their table, laughing and shouting. One of the girls stumbled against their table as she passed.

“Sorry!” she giggled as her date helped her up. “I’m not used to high heels.” The group whirled away in their blinding dresses and tuxes.

“It doesn’t take forty-five minutes to get here,” Levi said, as if they had not been interrupted.

Maryam tore her eyes away from the raucous group. “Has it really been that long?”

Levi glanced at his watch. “Forty-seven, now.”

Maryam frowned. “Maybe you ought to call.”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Roselle’s number. “She isn’t answering.” He called Lucas next. Still nothing.

“Let me take my hair down and we can go look for them,” she said. She levered herself to her feet, slipped on her shoes, and went toward the bathroom. While she was gone, Levi tried Roselle’s and Lucas’s phones several more times. When she reappeared, her hair in uneven black ringlets, she said, “Nothing?”

He shook his head.

“Let’s go, then.”

~ ∞ ~

I hate this part.

She is already awake and examining the scar on her arm. “How did I get this?” I tell her that I don’t know. “Why am I in a hospital? I feel great.” I tell her that she’s been in a coma.

“Oh,” she says.

“Don’t worry. Lucas can tell you.”

“Where is he?”

“I’ve already called him. He’s on his way.”

Seven minutes.