The girl in the bed was dark-haired and pale-faced. Motionless, not even twitching, face serene. She looked as though she were sleeping, her chest rising and falling. The machine next to her bed was beeping, and the IV was forcing nutrients into her body. She was pale, her wavy hair spread out under her. She hadn't moved at all, except a little fluttering at times that was apparently just residual muscle twitches.
Over Jada's bed, staring down at her, was a redheaded girl with eyes the same color
"Zora," Michael's voice over the phone was tired, "They won't let anyone into the city. You should be able to leave, if-"
"Daddy, if I do, who will watch Jada?" the girl smiled weakly, looking at her comforter. "Someone has to watch her. You know she's hopeless without someone by her side."
"She's your sister, not your-"
"Daddy. It will be okay. Cookie is here, and it will be fine."
"Alright." he sounded reluctant. "Take care. Tell..."
"Tell Jayj we love her!" it was Lucas' anxious voice.
"I will."
The conversation with her mother had gone less than stellar: Szelem had blamed Jada for getting herself involved in this 'cultish coma.' or something like that. Zora tuned out her mother most the time. The older woman had hung up with no words of concern. Kayley had called and told Zora to take care of herself. "Jayj is unconscious," her twin had said, "Take care of yourself."
Now it was that Zora was seated at her sister's bedside, an IPOD in her purse, and a small stack of poetry books in her arms. She crawled onto the bed carefully, since most of the chairs were in use, and put one earbud of the headphones into Jada's ear. "I know you're probably missing your music." she told Jada. "You are probably really missing that. And I brought you poetry too. So I am gonna do some studying." she pulled her laptop out of her backpack. "You listen to some music, and then when I am done, I'll read to you a little." It was, after all, the least that she could do for her sister. The least she could do. Jada had always taken care of her when she was sick. Always taken care of her in general. Even with... what had happened, in Jada's bedroom. Lately, it felt like Zora was doing a lot of visiting Jada in the hospital though. Couldn't Jada get a cold, or something easy?
The internet said that unconscious people needed to hear that they were being thought of to keep them awake. So that was what Zora was going to do. The schools were all shut down, so she didn't have anything better to do. The hospital had wifi, and her laptop could play WoW well enough that she'd hardly be put out by spending time here. Zora pressed the other earbud to Jada's ear and pressed play on the IPOD. Music played quietly, and the teenager pulled up her game on her computer, logging into her game.
Every day, like a ritual, Zora arrived at the hospital. She came in with a basket full of bagels, some coffee. The nurses who wanted some would get some, and three bagels remained wrapped up for her. She would be there from 9-11:30, when she would go out for lunch, letting the IPOD recharge. By 1:00 she would be back, and she would read to Jada and tell her what had happened the night before. And from 2:00-5:00, she would go back to WoW, or wander the hospital looking for other family members to talk to, her backpack tucked safely under Jada's hospital bed and her laptop in hand. Then it was dinner and a goodnight, unless she had latched on to someone else. It was common enough that she was, whether it was a mother or father, a sibling, or one of her friends from school.
Every day, Jada remained still and silent, the music playing in her ears. Her sister's voice a whisper in her ears. Donne, Shakespeare, Tennyson, Bronte, all of Jada's favorite writers; even Shel Silverstein. Did she hear it? Who knew?
Over Jada's bed, staring down at her, was a redheaded girl with eyes the same color
"Zora," Michael's voice over the phone was tired, "They won't let anyone into the city. You should be able to leave, if-"
"Daddy, if I do, who will watch Jada?" the girl smiled weakly, looking at her comforter. "Someone has to watch her. You know she's hopeless without someone by her side."
"She's your sister, not your-"
"Daddy. It will be okay. Cookie is here, and it will be fine."
"Alright." he sounded reluctant. "Take care. Tell..."
"Tell Jayj we love her!" it was Lucas' anxious voice.
"I will."
The conversation with her mother had gone less than stellar: Szelem had blamed Jada for getting herself involved in this 'cultish coma.' or something like that. Zora tuned out her mother most the time. The older woman had hung up with no words of concern. Kayley had called and told Zora to take care of herself. "Jayj is unconscious," her twin had said, "Take care of yourself."
Now it was that Zora was seated at her sister's bedside, an IPOD in her purse, and a small stack of poetry books in her arms. She crawled onto the bed carefully, since most of the chairs were in use, and put one earbud of the headphones into Jada's ear. "I know you're probably missing your music." she told Jada. "You are probably really missing that. And I brought you poetry too. So I am gonna do some studying." she pulled her laptop out of her backpack. "You listen to some music, and then when I am done, I'll read to you a little." It was, after all, the least that she could do for her sister. The least she could do. Jada had always taken care of her when she was sick. Always taken care of her in general. Even with... what had happened, in Jada's bedroom. Lately, it felt like Zora was doing a lot of visiting Jada in the hospital though. Couldn't Jada get a cold, or something easy?
The internet said that unconscious people needed to hear that they were being thought of to keep them awake. So that was what Zora was going to do. The schools were all shut down, so she didn't have anything better to do. The hospital had wifi, and her laptop could play WoW well enough that she'd hardly be put out by spending time here. Zora pressed the other earbud to Jada's ear and pressed play on the IPOD. Music played quietly, and the teenager pulled up her game on her computer, logging into her game.
Every day, like a ritual, Zora arrived at the hospital. She came in with a basket full of bagels, some coffee. The nurses who wanted some would get some, and three bagels remained wrapped up for her. She would be there from 9-11:30, when she would go out for lunch, letting the IPOD recharge. By 1:00 she would be back, and she would read to Jada and tell her what had happened the night before. And from 2:00-5:00, she would go back to WoW, or wander the hospital looking for other family members to talk to, her backpack tucked safely under Jada's hospital bed and her laptop in hand. Then it was dinner and a goodnight, unless she had latched on to someone else. It was common enough that she was, whether it was a mother or father, a sibling, or one of her friends from school.
Every day, Jada remained still and silent, the music playing in her ears. Her sister's voice a whisper in her ears. Donne, Shakespeare, Tennyson, Bronte, all of Jada's favorite writers; even Shel Silverstein. Did she hear it? Who knew?
