Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
We sit for a while as I do my best to take in everything I’m seeing, trying to force it to make sense. I sit very still, rigid and alert, eyes bouncing from one scene to the next, and as I do this, I lose track of time.
But then someone calls my name, and I don’t know what to do. I freeze. Unable to stand, let alone walk over to the woman with a screen that is small enough to hold in her hand. She’s scowling in my direction, not looking friendly at all.
Tyse stands up and offers me his hand until I take it and stand with him. And then he leads me over to her. There is a small argument here, one I don’t participate in. The lady doesn’t want Tyse to come with me, but he insists, telling her that I am his wife.
This almost shocks me out of my stupor, only because I want to smirk up at Tyse and give him a knowing look. Curious, my ass. But things are moving too fast for joking and suddenly I’m in a room with machines all around me. Machines I can’t even begin to describe because they are things I have no words for.
In the coffee shops we have machines. They make coffee. We have ovens in kitchens. We have pipes and things related to plumbing. We have lights. But we don’t have anything like this.
The health center, in my version of Tau City, is a place to pray. We ask the god for healing. If the god decides to intervene, medicine appears in syringes. It looks nothing like this.
I am asked to take off my ill-fitting clothes and put on a thin robe and the next thing I know people are poking me with needles—which is at least familiar.
At this point, I don’t know what to think. My only option is to just stop participating and let Tyse handle it all. Which he does. But when there’s a break in all this commotion, and no other people are close by, he asks me, “Are you OK?”
I nod out of habit. But I’m utterly fucking lost in this place. I just want to go and never come back. Except I can’t because this is my reality now. There’s no escape. Not a simple one, anyway. And I’ve made a deal with Tyse. Luckily. I’m so thankful we came in here with that agreement in place because I cannot imagine living through this experience with no one at my side.
I’m desperate now. Desperate to be proven right, and taken out of here, and helped.
Because I will not make it here alone. I will not make it here at all if I have to stay.
If I’m stuck, and there’s no way back, I’m going to die in this place. I don’t want to be alone when I die.
I’m taken to a new room. It’s very cold and this time Tyse is absolutely not allowed to come with me. I answer questions using as few words as possible and then I am told to lie on a table and then put inside a machine. The nurse—that’s what these people are called—keeps asking me if I’m OK. And I can hear her, even though she’s not inside the machine with me, but in a whole other room.
I don’t say anything. Just hold absolutely still until they take me out, put me in yet another room, and Tyse comes back holding up a big brown bag with handles.
I let out a breath after he closes the door. Relieved that the people have gone away, but mostly relieved that he’s back.
“They told me it’d be two hours of waiting for the MRI, so I went and got you some clothes that should fit ya better.” He offers me the bag.
I’m sitting on the edge of an exam table, but I take it and put it next to me, peeking inside. Then I look up at him and let out a long breath. A breath I feel like I’ve been holding in all day. “Well? Am I sick?”
“They don’t have the results yet. But they said you can change.” He nods to the bag. “It all might be too big. But better to be too big than too small.” Then he turns back to the door.
“Wait!” This word comes out in a panic. “Where are you going?”
“Get dressed. I’ll be right outside.” He doesn’t wait for me to agree, just slips out and closes the door behind him.
I don’t like this place, but I feel like the ordeal is almost over, so I force myself to put the new clothes on and cling to the idea that I will be pronounced healthy and leave here soon.
The pants are the same kind he wears, with lots of pockets and made of soft, thick material. But they are a pale brown instead of black. The shirt is like his as well, short sleeves and made of cotton, but again, not black. More of a cream color. There’s even a pair of boots, also like his. Ankle-high lace-ups in brown.