The guards grip him tighter after their moment of neglect, and the atmosphere in the room becomes chaotic again. I’m frozen in the doorway. I don’t think he’s seen me, but, then again, he’s never actually seen me. I need to speak to him, that’s what he knows, my voice.
I succumb to the magnetic draw that’s always been there for me. I wonder if he feels it now, too? He continues to struggle with the guards as I cross the room.
“Marcus?” I say his name in a calm voice. I feel like I’m dealing with a cornered wild animal. He stops struggling at the sound of my voice and turns to face me.
Empty green eyes stare back at me while the security guards continue to restrain his arms and his one good leg. They steer clear of his casted leg that he, no doubt, would use as a weapon if given the chance.
He stares at me for what feels like an eternity. His eyes move slowly from my face down over every single inch of my body. He lingers at my breasts and bare legs for an uncomfortable, inappropriate amount of time.
He makes me feel naked, much more exposed than this outfit did only fifteen minutes ago. He’s not only looking at me, he’s leering. After violently returning from a coma less than an hour ago, this man is stripping me down, undressing me with his eyes.
What the hell kind of man have I summoned? This must be what Elena meant when she said he was difficult. I watch as he silently rakes over my body with his eyes.
“Imani?” he whispers.
“Yes, it’s me; your nurse says that you’ve been asking for me,” I say keeping my tone even and calm.
“You told me you were waiting,” he says and turns to stare out the window into the dark forest. His voice trails off sounding hurt, like a child instead of the powerful man I’ve imagined him to be. It’s like he has turned into an entirely different person in a matter of seconds. God, maybe he has brain damage.
I need to figure out what he wants right now and get him settled down. Beads of sweat cover his forehead. His muscles are wound tight, and the sheet covering him is trembling with anger or maybe fear, I can’t tell.
His eyes change again from far away to focused and intense. I’ve never seen such a severe swing in personality outside of my psych rotation in nursing school.
“You don’t look like a nurse,” he says, with one side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. He lifts his chin and winks at me, and I am officially a goner.
Like a dragster on the racetrack, he’s gone from zero to one hundred in a split second. He was a vulnerable little boy, and now he’s a sexy predator.
“I was out. I’m not working tonight,” I say.
“Out with who?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. His tone is full of accusation as if he has a claim on me.
“I was having drinks with my girlfriends.”
It’s none of his business who I’ve been out with.
“Oh,” he says. His brows knit together tight and he looks at the security guards as if he has just noticed them standing there.
“Guys, I think I’ve got it from here, you can let him go,” I say.
One of the guards looks at me with doubt. “You sure, Ma’am, this guy’s been going nuts for an hour.”
“Yes, I’m sure, let him go.”
He’s calmer now, and that guard is pissing me off. I know he’s just trying to do his job, but that irrational part of me that lays claim to this stranger wants to protect him. All four guards let go slowly and take a step away from the bed.
I step in close to Marcus and switch places with Sheila.
I ease him down onto the bed with my hands on his shoulders until his head is on the pillows. I feel his eyes on me, but I avoid eye contact.
“See, he’s OK, I’ll call if I need help. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
I surrender to the force of his stare and look into his eyes.
“You’ve got this,” he says so quietly no one but me can hear him. “Did you say that to me before?”
“Yes, I did.”
Everyone slowly files into the hall. Sheila, the nurse who called me, is standing outside the door, eyes wide. I move to close the door and shrug my shoulders when she arches one eyebrow high. I don’t know what’s going on any more than she does.
“Just give me a few minutes to talk to him.” She presses her hand on the door to stop me from closing it.
“Imani, are you two…? I mean, do you know him?”
“No, only as his nurse, but he won’t hurt me.” I have no reasonable explanation as to why I believe that, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
“He’s dangerous, Imani, you can’t be in there alone with him,” she says, taking a step forward.
I’m going with my instincts. He may have brain damage, but I’m willing to risk it. I have no facts to back up my unexplainable, illogical feeling of safety, and, actually, that makes me kind of nuts, too
“Ok, put on the emergency light if you need us.”
“I will, I promise.” I close the door, and when it clicks, I turn to find Marcus lying back in bed staring at the ceiling. I walk to the side of the bed and take his hand in mine lacing our fingers together. When he feels my hand, he lolls his head on the pillow toward me and asks, “Where is Megan?”
“I don’t know Megan; is she someone I should call for you?” I ask. He looks past me over my shoulder. I think he is trying to sort out the details of his accident.
“She was with me in the car. Her hair was floating around her face. She was so still, so quiet, we were under water.”
He must be talking about the person in the accident who was DOA; I hadn’t thought to look up who she was.
“Marcus, can I get you anything, are you thirsty?” Maybe I can steer the conversation away from his dead friend, or girlfriend, whoever she was. He doesn’t need to deal with that right now. Especially since he is still showing signs of shock. He rolls his head back to the center of the pillow and returns to staring at the ceiling.
“Yes,” he says. Good, thank God, baby steps, we need to start with baby steps. Out in the hall, I glance back at him twice to make sure he’s not going to freak out when I leave the room.
My co-workers are staring a hole in my back as I fill a pitcher with ice water. I feel ridiculous being dressed this way at work.
When I make my way back to Marcus’s room, my friends pause their conversations and stare. I focus my eyes straight ahead. I feel like I’m the featured spotlight float in ‘The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day’ parade. I breathe a sigh of relief when I slip back into his room and close the door
I pour a glass of water and peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s studying me.
“Here, take a drink.” I offer him the cup and watch him pull a long drink from the cup with his eyes locked on mine.
“I heard you. When you were talking to me,” he says.
“What do you remember?”
“You said you would take care of me. It pissed me off.” His voice has turned unexpectedly cold
“You were angry about that? Why?”
“I take care of myself, I always have. I don’t need anyone, for anything,” he says, spitting the words like they are meant to hurt me.
“Well, you look like you need help now,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and popping my hip out.