Damn It All to Hell

Chapter 21

It’s such a beautiful day. Here I am, alone in my apartment, looking out the window at the grey clouds and the drizzling suggestion of rain. I feel so safe and secure when the weather looks menacing outside and I have no reason to leave the apartment. I’m just gonna sit here all day drinking coffee and watching TV, while I wrap myself up in big, fluffy blankets and snuggle into warmth and comfort.

I feel so liberated after last night. I wonder what Gavin is up to today? Oh, I shouldn’t worry about it. I can only remember getting a phone call from one of my weekend guys on one or two occasions. It’s pretty much understood that it’s just going to be a one-night deal. That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a little fun on the weekends, especially if that weekend includes your birthday. It’s not like I want to get involved in a relationship or anything.

There’s really nothing of interest on TV. Maybe I should watch a movie. I could pop some popcorn and throw my own private little screening party. I think I will. That should be nice and relaxing. Microwave popcorn is the best invention ever.

I’m so sleepy. I feel a little agitated, though, and I’m not sure why. Oh well. I’m looking forward to hearing what Trista has to tell me about Edan. I’m sure they had a good time.

What movie should I watch? I think I should watch a comedy. It’s so dreary outside. I could use something uplifting to counteract the greyness of the day.

The popcorn smells so good. The kernels are popping like they’re happily escaping from their prison. I can just picture them popping around on the inside of the bag like they’re throwing their own little party. I must be losing it. Popcorn kernels throwing parties? God, I’m such a loser.

Uh-oh, the phone is ringing. Should I answer it? If it’s someone I don’t want to talk to, I’d rather not pick it up at all. But it might be someone I do want to talk to, and in that case, I know I’m gonna forget about the popcorn and it’s gonna burn again. My popcorn always burns. I think the kernels get a little rowdy at their parties. Oh, it’s probably just Trista calling to tell me when she’s stopping by. I should really answer it.

‘Hello?’

“Yes, I’m looking for a Malana Malavita?”

‘That’s me.’

“This is St. Peter’s Hospital. Your friend Trista has asked us to notify you of her admission. I don’t want to alarm you, but she’s been in a rather serious car accident.”

‘Oh my God! Is she okay?’

“Well, she’s stable right now, but she would probably benefit from a little company. Familiar faces always help in the recovery process.”

Oh my God. How awful! Oh, but she’s probably fine. Trista can be so melodramatic sometimes. She always makes things seem worse than they really are. You can never tell if something’s really wrong with her or not. But she’s my friend. I should really go make sure she’s okay. ‘I’ll be right there.’

“She’s in room 3H.”

‘Okay, thanks.’ Oh God...goddammit, my popcorn! The stupid fucking popcorn burned again. Ugh, my perfectly relaxing afternoon has been spoiled by Trista and her issues. She’d better be severely injured.

Which coat should I wear? I think I need a bright color to wear in this dismal weather. Well, it’s not snowing anymore, so I guess the burgundy coat should be warm enough.

Now, where are my keys? God, I can never find anything I need. Well, I guess I’ll have to make more popcorn when I get back. Maybe Trista will be recovered enough to come home later today. We can make some more popcorn and watch the movie together. Yeah, cool. Oh, there they are. Better get going....

If I didn’t have to be out in this cold at all today, I wouldn’t have missed it. I stepped outside just two seconds ago, and already I feel like I’m frozen all the way through. This is awful. I should move to someplace like Florida or California or something -- anyplace warm.

The windows of my car are slightly frosted over, but it’s definitely too cold outside to get back out of the car to scrape them off. I can see well enough; I’ll just drive slowly.

Now, where is that hospital? I think it’s the one by the river. Wait, there are three rivers. Which river? Oh, I’ll just drive. I’m likely to come across a sign for the hospital sooner or later.

Maybe I should stop to buy Trista flowers or something. No, I’ll wait to see how she’s doing before I buy her anything. She might be a little bit down. I’ll wait until I get a vibe from her as to whether she’s in the mood to be cheered up or not. Sometimes there’s just no cheering that girl up.

Okay, how many stop lights have I stopped at already? No, I don’t want my windows washed. No, I’m not going to give you any money, and you sure as hell better not touch my car. Get the fuck away from my car! ‘Go the fuck away, asshole!’ God!

Is that guy selling roses? Yeah, he is. Oh, I’ll just buy one rose for Trista. A rose never hurt anyone. A single rose is perfect; it’ll tell her I’m interested in her well-being, but I’m not assuming that she wants to be cheered up. ‘How much for a rose?’ The man looks like he’s been wandering around in the cold all day. That must suck. He’s holding up a little cardboard sign that reads, ‘$3.’ Three dollars...there we go. ‘Here you are. Thanks!’

That was so nice of me. It’s really an exceptionally beautiful rose for having come from a homeless guy on the street. I just effectively accomplished two good things: I did something nice for Trista, and I helped out the less fortunate. I’m such a good person.

The windows have cleared off enough from the heater so that I can finally be sure there are no cars directly in front of me. That’s definitely a good thing to know.

There are a lot of bridges around here. I never really looked around enough to notice exactly how many bridges there are. I’ve never been outside this city enough to see places where bridges aren’t so common. Bridges are a part of life; they’re always just sort of around, like extensions of the land. The whole city is like a garden of bridges that sprouted from the soil and blossomed into a huge, self-sufficient, and beautiful flower, even though it started as just a seed. This is such a beautiful city. Even on a crappy day like today, I can see the beauty of the architecture. The looming clouds behind the buildings serve only as a backdrop for the grey scene before me. The shades of grey complement one another in such an amazingly artistic way.

Shit! Did I just miss the turn for the hospital? I think I did. Oh, no I didn’t, there it is right up ahead. Wow. Just when I think I’m not paying attention, I find out that I really was, and I just didn’t know it. I’m smarter than I thought.

There we go: Visitor Parking. They need a bigger parking lot. Trista better appreciate what I’ve gone through to get here today. I’ll tell you, sometimes I think that girl has no idea what I go through. There’s no parking. God, now I have to go all the way to the back of the building. I’m gonna end up walking forever just to get into the building. I think I need to call a cab to take me from my car to the front door....

Finally: a parking space.

It is so cold.

The rose looks like such a dramatic contrast to all the greyness. It’s the only thing that shows any signs of life right now. All the trees are nothing but snow-covered branches, stripped of their leaves. All the cars even seem to be grey; they’re all covered with a dusting of thinly distributed frost. Christ, now my hand is starting to look almost as red as the rose. I should really think about investing in a pair of gloves.

The parking lot is so quiet; there’s not a single other soul here. The entire parking lot is packed with cars, but no one is walking to or from the hospital. There’s just me. And I’m really cold.

Oh, there’s a sound. The silence is slowly becoming infected by the lonely howl of an approaching ambulance. The red and white lights reflect off the building with the blinking apparition of an intense emergency. There’s a police car with the ambulance, too. I wonder who’s in the ambulance? I wonder if it’s serious? Maybe it’s just an old lady with a broken hip. It’s really easy to slip on this ice. Part of me wants to peek into the back of the ambulance as they take out the stretcher, but that’s sick. There’s no need for that. Who would want to do something so morbid?

Oh, thank God. Warmth at last! The lights inside the hospital are an orange-yellow that shines on everything with a dark glow that tells me nothing in here has been updated since the seventies. But at least it’s warm.

There are so many signs. My God, it’s like an airport in here with all the signs pointing to various destinations. Now, what room did they say she was in? 3H? I think that’s what they said. I’ll see if I can find the room by myself. Oh, the elevators are right here.

The hospital is filled with beeping sounds and the constant low murmur of inquiring families and friends. All the nurses look haggard and tired, like they want nothing more than to go home. I can understand that. What could be worse than spending everyday around people that are sick or dying with all of their loved ones standing around watching?

Woah...the ding from the elevator notified me that it has arrived. It almost made me jump out of my own skin. Where are the people from all those cars outside? It’s too quiet in here. Well, perhaps it’s more lively on Trista’s floor.

The elevator smells of Band-aids and cleaning agents, sick people, old people, and sick old people. It smells of hospital food and baby diapers, spilled coffee and a trace of cigarette smoke from all the people who went outside to smoke while they waited for results of tests or surgeries. It smells awful in here. I have got to get out of this elevator.

A couple more dings, and now I’m on Trista’s floor. The lights here are much brighter, and the walls are white with a pale blue trim that almost looks cheerful. It’s a lot more active up here. Lots of people are running around with doctors, assistants, students, nurses, and even police. If I wasn’t in a hospital, I’d say the atmosphere was exciting.

3H...3H...3H....Where is Trista’s room? Maybe I should stop at the desk and ask. ‘Excuse me, can you tell me where room 3H is?’ The nurse snapped her head up from the file she was reading, and now she looks positively startled, like I asked her a question she just really wasn’t expecting. What, do most people have the hospital room numbers memorized? I don’t understand. She’s pointing down a hallway to her left. She’s not very friendly; she hasn’t said a word.

A circle of people is standing in the middle of the hallway, talking excitedly and pointing their fingers wildly, first down the hallway, then in circles through the air. They look to be arguing about something. Don’t they have people to take care of?

I can see the doorway to 3H slightly beyond the circle of people. The door is cracked open slightly. The members of the circle are arguing intently among themselves, and they don’t seem to notice the existence of anything or anyone other than themselves. I don’t know if I’m allowed to just let myself in the room or not, but they look busy. Well, what are they gonna do, yell at me for bringing my friend a rose? I’ll just go ahead in.

The door shrieks softly at the hinges, as I slowly push it open...

No...wait...what?.... This can’t be the right room....

The figure on the bed is covered by a white sheet. The sheet has dark spots on it that are growing bigger by the second, and beneath the bed is a stagnant puddle of deep burgundy. This can’t be happening. I can’t be seeing this. This can’t be Trista!

The rose has fallen from my hand to the ground, but I don’t care enough to pick it up. My heart has fallen to my toes, and I feel like I should scream, but I can’t. My feet are moving me closer to the bed, even though I’m not telling them to. Now, I’m standing at the side of the bed, mesmerized by the sight of the growing stains on the bleached sheet. Again, my body takes control of itself without consulting my brain, and my hand reaches to lift the sheet from the top half of the body...

“Who are you?!...Get that girl out of there!!”

The sheet flings itself away from Trista’s head, and her eyes stare back at me with a dull look of lifeless defeat. Her arms are a gruesome red from elbows to fingertips, with pieces of loosened flesh hanging off of them dismally, convinced they can no longer hold the tortured life within.

I’ve fallen to my knees in the middle of the puddle on the floor. How did this happen?! People are picking me up from behind and dragging me back to the door. They’re shouting at me, but I can’t hear them. My eyes hurt, but I can’t tear them away from Trista’s body. Trista’s body, Trista’s lifeless body...

‘How did you let this happen?! How did you not stop her?! HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELVES?!’ Oh my God. I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are spilling out of my mouth in helpless screams of passionate blame. I hate everyone in this hospital.

The circle of people is still in the hallway, but this time they’re all staring at me, wishing they had stopped me before I went in that room. One in the group is wearing a police uniform. In his hand is a plastic bag which holds several large pieces of a pale blue dinner plate that’s been shattered and smeared with Trista’s blood. Trista’s blood. I know it’s Trista’s blood. I hate the hospital. I hate the world. Damn the world. Damn it all to hell.