Wingsby halo555gsChaptersChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter OneAccompanied by Monsters and Men’s “Little Talks,” my phone’s buzzer does its job, alerting me that my mother has sent me yet another text message. This one reads, “I’m so so so soooo sorry, but I can’t make it there tonight. I promise I’ll visit tomorrow.” My mother, much like myself, prefers never to use texting lingo. We both prefer to write out full words, and to leave out a comma or apostrophe would be sin. I smile, if a bit grimly, at the familiarity of our quirk, then return my phone to its perch on the silver table next to my bed. I look solemnly around the too-bright hospital room. In the fourteen days I’ve been here, not one thing in the voiceless room has changed. The walls, floor, and even the ceiling are all comprised of cold white tiles that seem to leech the emotion from the air. The closest thing to color is the silvery green of the dusty AC unit. I’ve begun to regret not keeping the garish pink and orange phone case my mom bought me last year. A second bed lays, untouched, against the far wall of the room; its white sheets are neatly folded, but ironically lack hospital corners. I’m alone, as always, except at meals and checkups, which happen at the same time every day. I stare at the clock for a full minute before I manage to determine the time. 5:13. Exactly nineteen minutes before dinner. I wait, bored again. My leg itches; I don’t scratch it. My neck itches; I scratch it. I glance at the clock again. 5:14. I’m about to pick up my phone, to browse reddit or tumblr, just do something, when I hear a light knock at the door. I look at the clock. Its little hands are in the same position as they were twelve seconds ago. Dinner had never been early. Every day for the past two weeks, it’s been carted in by Jonathan, a nurse, at exactly 5:32. Besides, Jonathan never knocks. I always bug him about it, since he shouldn’t just barge into an girl’s room. What if I’d been changing? He would respond with a raised eyebrow, I’d love to see you try to change your clothes without my help. Hearing this, I would pout, since it’s not like I choose not to dress myself. However, this isn’t Jonathan. I recognize the grey, torpid face of Nurse Dean. She refuses to let patients call her by first name. She pokes her head in the doorway, and I see an unsettlingly false smile on her face I’ve never seen before. “Oh good,” she croons, her voice dripping with molasses, or maybe vegemite, “you’re semi-decent.” I attempt to raise my eyebrow at her, “when did I last take off my clothes without Jonathan’s help, again?” She scowls at my use of Jonathan’s first name, but says nothing in reply. “Kathy? Come meet your roommate.” A tall, redheaded girl with an extra two feet of legs walks in, and I can tell Nurse Dean has gotten her name wrong by the way the girl rolls her eyes. Strike that, eye. Strapped over a third of her face is an oversized eyepatch. That, paired with a mass of bandages wrapped over her head, make her look like Arashi Nikaidou, though I doubt they’re similar in many other ways. She sees me staring and grins. “Lisa,” Nurse Dean continues, “this is Catherine, she’ll be staying in your room for a bit, so get along. Don’t make me up your painkiller doseage.” She cackles as if she thinks she’s funny. The room is silent for a moment after the nurse leaves. The Nikaidou lookalike sits on the other bed. “I’m guessing you’re not Lisa?” She asks. “Lea, actually,” I attempt a smile, but I’ve never been good at talking to people. “Call me Wings,” she grins, obviously waiting for me to ask her why she has such a weird nickname. “Why do you have such a weird nickname?” I oblige. “Track, and it’s not that weird. I’m the fastest runner on the ream. Hold the school record for 100-meter and the county record for seventy-five.” She beams, obviously pleased with herself. “Is that all?” I ask, sarcastically. “What? Like you could do better? I bet I could-” she stops, an apology in her eyes. “Oh. I’m- I didn’t mean to- Sorry, I- Yeah...” She stares into the ground sadly. I laugh at her performance. “What? I’m not going to blame you!” I pat my right stump. “Come on, it’s fine, really. It’s not like I was ever an athlete before.” Wings looks at the space where my legs are supposed to be. “What happened?” She asks, nervously. “School Bus flipped on ice. Luckily, I was the last stop, so it was just me and the driver. I was the only one wearing a seatbelt, but I was also the only one injured.” Wings still seemed unhappy, so I laughed again. “Well,” she says slowly,”at least you don’t have to worry about being short-sheeted.” A grin spreads across her face as I laugh. “Besides,” she adds, “it draws attention to your cute little face.” She flashes her eyebrows up and down, but I just roll my eyes. “Speaking of,” I ask, “what did you do to your cute face?” I point to my left eye. She responds by raising the eyepatch to reveal a perfectly normal, if purpled and swollen, green eye. “This is just a shiner. The real reason I’m here is more similar to yours. I tripped on the treadmill. Shattered my wrist and tore off three fingernails.” I shudder as she raises a bright green cast. It’s a wonder I didn’t notice it earlier. “Why the patch?” “I just didn’t want my new roommate thinking I’d gotten into a fistfight before I had the chance to explain myself.” She flashes me a lopsided smile as she slips the eyepatch over her head. She winces as she touches her scalp. “Oh, and I have a minor concussion. Can’t leave that out.” With that, she stood up. “Should you be standing with a concussion?” “Probably not. And I definitely shouldn’t be doing this.” Ignoring my protest, she grabbed the bedpost and started dragging her bed towards the middle of the room. Since only the back two legs had wheels on them, she had to repeatedly move back and forth between the two bedposts, pulling one, then the other, careful not to hit any expensive equipment. I watch her struggle until the two beds were close enough that I could reach across the gap and touch her pillow. “There,” she proclaims excitedly, “now we can talk easily.” I tilt my head, “couldn’t we talk before?” She shook hers in return. “We could talk like strangers before; now we can talk like friends!” And that’s what we did for the next three hours and forty-eight minutes. At 9:04 my phone did its thing again. I picked it up and read the monstrosity that was my father’s text. “M cot ↑ @ work sas hi” I cringe at both the content and the format. Mom’s been overworking herself since I was admitted to the hospital to pay the bills. It didn’t help that she was a lawyer, and therefore needed as much sleep as possible. I wasn’t exactly disappointed that she wasn’t coming to visit me today, but I was worried she’d give herself another ulcer. My phone gives off another strain of “Little Talks” to alert me of another Dadism. “sry bout M if U need smthin jst me” “Is something the matter?” Wings looks worried, and I realize I’ve forgotten our conversation. “Oh, sorry, it’s nothing; I’m just getting a bit tired. Wanna call it a night?” Wings yawns before glancing at the clock, “hmm… You know, for a blonde, you’re pretty smart. G’night.” I watch, incredulous, as Wings drifts off into sleep instantly. I take a bit longer to fall asleep. Chapter TwoThe next week is saturated with our conversations. After fourteen days with nearly no human contact, I somehow gained the ability to talk at 400 miles per hour. Wings and I tell eachother everything about ourselves and our lives. Wings comes from a family with nine kids, although two of them have moved out, and a third is currently attending college. Wings plans to attend University of Michigan, like her oldest sister. Her mother has type two diabetes, and she works as a camerawoman for an indie film company. Wings’ father works for a construction firm. Since her parents are often at work, Wings’ oldest sister runs the household. Wings herself avoids being at home more than a few hours a day, and joined marching band, track, and science olympiad to help pass time. She claims that she gets all ‘A’s, but by the way she turned her mouth as she said it makes me think she was kidding. In return for this mountain of information, I tell her all about my life. It’s much shorter, and definitely less interesting. My mother, as I’ve said, is a lawyer, and apparently, one of her billboards is across the street from Wings’ school. My dad owns a café downtown, but since he became manager, he hasn’t shown up more than twice a month. He’s more of a stay-at-home kind of guy, anyways. He’s always watching hockey or Mexican soap operas. I’m not in any after school clubs, but I am in the school newspaper. Wings thought that sounded fun until I told her that we published once a week instead of semi-monthly like at her school. After we exhausted the topic of our school and home lives, we moved on to a multitude of others. She told me about the stray cat she’d taken care of behind her parents’ back for a year. I told her about how I’d thought she’d looked like Nikaidou, to which she responded that she’d always thought of herself as more of a Yuno Gasai. Despite how easily we got along, there were a few topics we strayed from. She got flustered whenever I brought up my legs, and I did my best to avoid the topic of boys; I didn’t want to admit I’d never had a boyfriend. Luckily for me, Wings never brought it up. Unluckily for Wings, I constantly badgered her to tell me more about track. When I’d had my legs, I’d never enjoyed exercise, but now that I’ll never have the chance to run cross-country, I can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be faster than everyone else. After one particularly long session of roasting, Wings finally caved. “When I run, it’s like… There’s something inside my chest that wasn’t there before. It fills this hole I didn’t realize was there. My heart races like I’ve had ten cans of Red Bull. The wind on my face is soothing, but it burns a bit, too. I feel like time could just stop, and I would stay happy forever. Of course, if I tried that, I’d probably trip and hurt myself worse than this time.” She laughs, raising her damaged wrist. I don’t laugh. I’m too busy trying to imagine the feeling she was describing, but I’ve never felt it before. My reverie is interrupted by a knock at the door. I didn’t have the daily schedule memorized anymore, but I could tell it was too early for lunch; Wings’ lap still contained her half-eaten breakfast. A voice enters the room, followed by a head draped with red hair, darker than Wings. “Katerina? Are you in here?” Her eyes perk up when she spots Wings. Wings looks pained, the same way she does when she talks about her family, and I can tell this overly-cheerful woman is her mother. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you!” The woman practically tackles Wings, planting kisses on her head, all the while making exaggerated “mwah, mwah,” sounds. Wings looks at me desperately, willing me to pretend this isn’t happening. I grin back at her, shaking my head slightly. I wonder briefly if I should take out my phone and record this for later blackmail. Wings’ mother finally finishes kissing her daughter’s hair, and begins talking at 723 syllables per minute. “Oh, sweetheart, the kids are all dying to see you again, but don’t worry, we’re heading right home, I already filled out the paperwork, and we can leave now.Aren’t you glad you don’t have to spend any more time sitting in this smelly hospital?” I stopgrinning. Wings is leaving? Who will I talk to? Before I can say or do anything, Wings’ mother has dragged her out the door. At the last second, Wings turns back and waves her cast at me, a strained smile on her face. I sit perfectly still as she blows me an exaggerated kiss. The door closes. Chapter ThreeI look around the room. Wings bed still sits next to mine, her breakfast still uneaten, but Wings is gone. A lone orange slice sits; Wings refused to eat sliced oranges. She had nothing against an orange she peeled herself, but if it had been cut, she wouldn’t touch it with a meter-stick. I hear a shout from somewhere outside my room, then the sounds of doctors running and talking at equal speeds. One of the other patients must have hurt themselves. I don’t particularly care. I had suddenly been overcome with the need to sleep. It made sense; the past few nights, I’d stayed up pretty late talking to Wings. I smile, remembering our conversations about which anime character she resembled, then drift off into dreamland. Chapter FourI’m awoken sometime later by another unscheduled knock at my door. I roll over and shout, “I’m trying to sleep!” I don’t move until I feel a hand stroke my hair. With effort, I roll over to yell at the intruder to go away, but when I see their face, my jaw drops. “Wings?” Her hand is wrapped in a brand new pink cast. “Missed me?” She asks, grinning. I blush, because honestly, I had. “What are you doing back here?” I put my hand on her new cast. “Promise not to laugh?” “Definitely not.” She continues anyways. “I fell down the stairs at the front entrance, and tried to catch the handrail with my bad arm.” She raises her pink arm, “Refractured all the old breaks, plus I dislocated my pinky.” I prove honest to my promise, and laugh. “Nice job. Did you do it on purpose?” Wings stares at me for a few seconds. “Why the hell would I do that? You’re cute an’ all, but I don’t like you that much.” I blush, trying to explain myself. “I just mean, you seemed pretty unhappy to be with your mom.” Wings laughs. “Nah, I was just embarrassed by her plastic headlights.” Wings makes an obscene gesture and I can’t help but let a snort escape. Things are back to normal already, and they stay that way for nine days before Wings drops her atomic bomb on me. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” “You’re not going to break your face on the way out?” I try to joke. I must have done a bad job, because Wings adds, “I’ll visit you twice a week, okay?” I try to smile, but I probably do a bad job at that too, because Wings stands up and sits on my bed, next to me and wraps her arm around me in an awkward half-hug. “Last time I left, you totally missed me, didn’t you?” I nod, sheepishly, “maybe a little. You are my only friend.” Wings seems to consider this for a moment. “Remember when you asked if I re-broke my wrist on purpose?” I nod, waiting for her to continue, which she does, after a deep breath. “Well… I did.” I stare, confused. Did she hate her family that much? Or- “I…” she started, “I wanted to spend more time with you.” I stare at her silently for a minute. “Liar,” I finally say, laughing, but unsure. Wings’ face stays serious, and a small smile appears on her face. “Honestly.” Suddenly, without warning, our lips are touching. My chest feels funny, like it’s full of… something. My heart is beating at an irregular rate. I feel as if a cool breeze has entered the room, sending a shiver down my spine. My face is burning red. I feel as if time is slowing to a stop. I feel… exactly the way Wings described running. I’m frozen, like a cliché in headlights. I feel like if I move, I might shatter. I’m kissing another girl. Shouldn’t I stop? I don’t think I want to stop. Not that I want to keep kissing her either. I’m frozen on the line of indecision. The paradox of not wanting to stop or continue. I think the kiss is short. It must be, since we don’t stop to breath. We weren’t full-on snogging or anything. It was just her lips on mine. Or my lips on hers? I’m not sure which of us initiated the kiss. Wings’ eyes were closed. Mine struggled not to do the same. If I close my eyes, I’ll be admitting that I enjoy this. Don’t I enjoy it? I’m not sure, but eventually, Wings’ lips separate from mine. She opens her eyes, but they’re nowhere near as wide as mine. She licks her lips and smiles at me, a blush on her cheeks. “Holy shit…” I whisper. “I know, isn’t it great?” Wings’ grin falters. “No, it- Oh god, I’m sorry, Lea- Was I- I didn’t mean to-” I glare at her, and to my shock and dismay she stops talking. I’m about to apologize, but my mouth disobeys. “I’m going to sleep. You should too.” With that I rolled over. I feel the pressure of Wings’ thighs leave my side, and I wish it would return, but it doesn’t. I hear the squeak of Wings’ bed as she lays down. I fall asleep shortly after. Chapter FiveI wake in darkness. The dim light marking the exit is just bright enough that I can read the clock on the wall. 2:45. The hands produce a harmonious ticking, but their rhythm is ruined by the discordant sounds coming from the other bed. Wings is crying. I want to get up and comfort her, but I don’t have legs. I can’t do anything to help, so I just lay and listen. She’s still crying as I drift back to sleep. Chapter SixWhen I wake up the next morning, she’s already gone. When Jonathan comes to help me dress myself, I tell him I don’t want any visitors. I’m not ready to face Wings again. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be. Jonathan is silent when I tell him this, but the scratching of his pen on his clipboard tell me I won’t be seeing anyone who doesn’t work for the hospital for a while. I spend the next fifty-four hours and thirty-eight minutes in silence. I eat only one meal a day, despite the stern looks from Jonathan, who at least has the decency not to talk to me. The silence is broken Thursday afternoon by Nurse Dean. “Liz? A girl named Kate is trying to see you. I told her you weren’t accepting visitors at this time, but she refuses to leave.” Honestly, I’m surprised Wings hasn’t tried to see me before. Or maybe she has, but this time she’s being more aggressive about it. “Tell her I’m asleep, or better yet, tell her the last time someone tried to visit me I clawed their eyes out.” Nurse Dean frowns, but nods. “I’ll tell her you’re sleeping then.” She turned and walked out the door, but stopped. “That’s odd, she’s gone. Maybe she went to the restroom?” I listen as the overweight nurse walks away, her shoes clacking on the tile. After a moment I hear her footsteps return to my room. “Lea, I know you’re awake.” That wasn’t Nurse Dean’s voice. “Wings? How did you-” “I hid behind the door, but that’s not important. I’m here to apologize. Please, hear me out.” I don’t want to hear her voice, but I knew Wings isn’t going to leave until I do, so I nod my head. Wings sighs, “I’m really, really, really sorry. Honestly, I thought- I thought you liked girls. I thought-” “I don’t.” I interrupt, “I don’t like girls. But I do like you, and it’s not your fault; it’s mine.” “What are you talking about? Of course it’s my fault. I’m the one who kissed you, I’m the-” “I wanted you to kiss me. I just- I wish you hadn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all me.” I’m not even sure what I’m talking about, but I know it’s true. “What? What’s you?” Wings looks at me questioningly, and I ask myself the same question. What’s wrong with me? “You’re just so… perfect!” I choke out, “and I- I’m just…” “What?” Wings looks worried. “And I’m just a cripple!” I shout. I’m sure I attract the attention of a nurse, but surprisingly, none appear. “I don’t even have legs past my knees! I can’t stand, let alone run! I can never keep up with you! You’re a track star who looks like a supermodel, and I’d just hold you back! I-” “What the fuck is your problem?” I flinch, and stop talking. In all the time we talked, Wings had never used any curse words. She even refused to say things like ‘stupid,’ or ‘crap.’ “Are you for real right now? This is all about your fucking legs? This whole time, I’ve thought, ‘dang, this girl’s got some serious guts, going on without legs, because god knows I would’ve offed myself by now,’ and I thought that no matter how fast I run, I’ll never be as strong as you, but obviously I’m wrong, because I would never ever let something as petty as my legs get between me and- between me and the girl of my dreams.” Her confession was quiet, lacking the anger of her previous statements. I swallow. She called me the girl of her dreams, but could I live up to that? Maybe I was being selfish. “Wings… I really like you, probably more than a friend should, but I couldn’t force you to put up with me. I mean, I can’t do anything. Wheelchairs are always in the way, and my parents can’t afford prosthetics, I have no-” “Shut up. Didn’t I just say you’re the girl of my dreams? That includes your legs, or lack thereof. I wouldn’t care if you had no arms either; I just want to be with you. Besides,” she adds, a lopsided grin threatening to spew forth a terrible pun, “who needs legs when you’ve got Wings?” The cheesiness of the line broke through the tension, and the two of us break into a fit of giggles. “Fine… You’re right.” I admit, “I never used my legs much anyways.” Wings blushes. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I just didn’t-” “Shut up,” I interrupt. Wings looks at me shocked. “You’re supposed to be kissing me right now” Next thing I knew, she was.
Chapter OneAccompanied by Monsters and Men’s “Little Talks,” my phone’s buzzer does its job, alerting me that my mother has sent me yet another text message. This one reads, “I’m so so so soooo sorry, but I can’t make it there tonight. I promise I’ll visit tomorrow.” My mother, much like myself, prefers never to use texting lingo. We both prefer to write out full words, and to leave out a comma or apostrophe would be sin. I smile, if a bit grimly, at the familiarity of our quirk, then return my phone to its perch on the silver table next to my bed. I look solemnly around the too-bright hospital room. In the fourteen days I’ve been here, not one thing in the voiceless room has changed. The walls, floor, and even the ceiling are all comprised of cold white tiles that seem to leech the emotion from the air. The closest thing to color is the silvery green of the dusty AC unit. I’ve begun to regret not keeping the garish pink and orange phone case my mom bought me last year. A second bed lays, untouched, against the far wall of the room; its white sheets are neatly folded, but ironically lack hospital corners. I’m alone, as always, except at meals and checkups, which happen at the same time every day. I stare at the clock for a full minute before I manage to determine the time. 5:13. Exactly nineteen minutes before dinner. I wait, bored again. My leg itches; I don’t scratch it. My neck itches; I scratch it. I glance at the clock again. 5:14. I’m about to pick up my phone, to browse reddit or tumblr, just do something, when I hear a light knock at the door. I look at the clock. Its little hands are in the same position as they were twelve seconds ago. Dinner had never been early. Every day for the past two weeks, it’s been carted in by Jonathan, a nurse, at exactly 5:32. Besides, Jonathan never knocks. I always bug him about it, since he shouldn’t just barge into an girl’s room. What if I’d been changing? He would respond with a raised eyebrow, I’d love to see you try to change your clothes without my help. Hearing this, I would pout, since it’s not like I choose not to dress myself. However, this isn’t Jonathan. I recognize the grey, torpid face of Nurse Dean. She refuses to let patients call her by first name. She pokes her head in the doorway, and I see an unsettlingly false smile on her face I’ve never seen before. “Oh good,” she croons, her voice dripping with molasses, or maybe vegemite, “you’re semi-decent.” I attempt to raise my eyebrow at her, “when did I last take off my clothes without Jonathan’s help, again?” She scowls at my use of Jonathan’s first name, but says nothing in reply. “Kathy? Come meet your roommate.” A tall, redheaded girl with an extra two feet of legs walks in, and I can tell Nurse Dean has gotten her name wrong by the way the girl rolls her eyes. Strike that, eye. Strapped over a third of her face is an oversized eyepatch. That, paired with a mass of bandages wrapped over her head, make her look like Arashi Nikaidou, though I doubt they’re similar in many other ways. She sees me staring and grins. “Lisa,” Nurse Dean continues, “this is Catherine, she’ll be staying in your room for a bit, so get along. Don’t make me up your painkiller doseage.” She cackles as if she thinks she’s funny. The room is silent for a moment after the nurse leaves. The Nikaidou lookalike sits on the other bed. “I’m guessing you’re not Lisa?” She asks. “Lea, actually,” I attempt a smile, but I’ve never been good at talking to people. “Call me Wings,” she grins, obviously waiting for me to ask her why she has such a weird nickname. “Why do you have such a weird nickname?” I oblige. “Track, and it’s not that weird. I’m the fastest runner on the ream. Hold the school record for 100-meter and the county record for seventy-five.” She beams, obviously pleased with herself. “Is that all?” I ask, sarcastically. “What? Like you could do better? I bet I could-” she stops, an apology in her eyes. “Oh. I’m- I didn’t mean to- Sorry, I- Yeah...” She stares into the ground sadly. I laugh at her performance. “What? I’m not going to blame you!” I pat my right stump. “Come on, it’s fine, really. It’s not like I was ever an athlete before.” Wings looks at the space where my legs are supposed to be. “What happened?” She asks, nervously. “School Bus flipped on ice. Luckily, I was the last stop, so it was just me and the driver. I was the only one wearing a seatbelt, but I was also the only one injured.” Wings still seemed unhappy, so I laughed again. “Well,” she says slowly,”at least you don’t have to worry about being short-sheeted.” A grin spreads across her face as I laugh. “Besides,” she adds, “it draws attention to your cute little face.” She flashes her eyebrows up and down, but I just roll my eyes. “Speaking of,” I ask, “what did you do to your cute face?” I point to my left eye. She responds by raising the eyepatch to reveal a perfectly normal, if purpled and swollen, green eye. “This is just a shiner. The real reason I’m here is more similar to yours. I tripped on the treadmill. Shattered my wrist and tore off three fingernails.” I shudder as she raises a bright green cast. It’s a wonder I didn’t notice it earlier. “Why the patch?” “I just didn’t want my new roommate thinking I’d gotten into a fistfight before I had the chance to explain myself.” She flashes me a lopsided smile as she slips the eyepatch over her head. She winces as she touches her scalp. “Oh, and I have a minor concussion. Can’t leave that out.” With that, she stood up. “Should you be standing with a concussion?” “Probably not. And I definitely shouldn’t be doing this.” Ignoring my protest, she grabbed the bedpost and started dragging her bed towards the middle of the room. Since only the back two legs had wheels on them, she had to repeatedly move back and forth between the two bedposts, pulling one, then the other, careful not to hit any expensive equipment. I watch her struggle until the two beds were close enough that I could reach across the gap and touch her pillow. “There,” she proclaims excitedly, “now we can talk easily.” I tilt my head, “couldn’t we talk before?” She shook hers in return. “We could talk like strangers before; now we can talk like friends!” And that’s what we did for the next three hours and forty-eight minutes. At 9:04 my phone did its thing again. I picked it up and read the monstrosity that was my father’s text. “M cot ↑ @ work sas hi” I cringe at both the content and the format. Mom’s been overworking herself since I was admitted to the hospital to pay the bills. It didn’t help that she was a lawyer, and therefore needed as much sleep as possible. I wasn’t exactly disappointed that she wasn’t coming to visit me today, but I was worried she’d give herself another ulcer. My phone gives off another strain of “Little Talks” to alert me of another Dadism. “sry bout M if U need smthin jst me” “Is something the matter?” Wings looks worried, and I realize I’ve forgotten our conversation. “Oh, sorry, it’s nothing; I’m just getting a bit tired. Wanna call it a night?” Wings yawns before glancing at the clock, “hmm… You know, for a blonde, you’re pretty smart. G’night.” I watch, incredulous, as Wings drifts off into sleep instantly. I take a bit longer to fall asleep.
Chapter TwoThe next week is saturated with our conversations. After fourteen days with nearly no human contact, I somehow gained the ability to talk at 400 miles per hour. Wings and I tell eachother everything about ourselves and our lives. Wings comes from a family with nine kids, although two of them have moved out, and a third is currently attending college. Wings plans to attend University of Michigan, like her oldest sister. Her mother has type two diabetes, and she works as a camerawoman for an indie film company. Wings’ father works for a construction firm. Since her parents are often at work, Wings’ oldest sister runs the household. Wings herself avoids being at home more than a few hours a day, and joined marching band, track, and science olympiad to help pass time. She claims that she gets all ‘A’s, but by the way she turned her mouth as she said it makes me think she was kidding. In return for this mountain of information, I tell her all about my life. It’s much shorter, and definitely less interesting. My mother, as I’ve said, is a lawyer, and apparently, one of her billboards is across the street from Wings’ school. My dad owns a café downtown, but since he became manager, he hasn’t shown up more than twice a month. He’s more of a stay-at-home kind of guy, anyways. He’s always watching hockey or Mexican soap operas. I’m not in any after school clubs, but I am in the school newspaper. Wings thought that sounded fun until I told her that we published once a week instead of semi-monthly like at her school. After we exhausted the topic of our school and home lives, we moved on to a multitude of others. She told me about the stray cat she’d taken care of behind her parents’ back for a year. I told her about how I’d thought she’d looked like Nikaidou, to which she responded that she’d always thought of herself as more of a Yuno Gasai. Despite how easily we got along, there were a few topics we strayed from. She got flustered whenever I brought up my legs, and I did my best to avoid the topic of boys; I didn’t want to admit I’d never had a boyfriend. Luckily for me, Wings never brought it up. Unluckily for Wings, I constantly badgered her to tell me more about track. When I’d had my legs, I’d never enjoyed exercise, but now that I’ll never have the chance to run cross-country, I can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be faster than everyone else. After one particularly long session of roasting, Wings finally caved. “When I run, it’s like… There’s something inside my chest that wasn’t there before. It fills this hole I didn’t realize was there. My heart races like I’ve had ten cans of Red Bull. The wind on my face is soothing, but it burns a bit, too. I feel like time could just stop, and I would stay happy forever. Of course, if I tried that, I’d probably trip and hurt myself worse than this time.” She laughs, raising her damaged wrist. I don’t laugh. I’m too busy trying to imagine the feeling she was describing, but I’ve never felt it before. My reverie is interrupted by a knock at the door. I didn’t have the daily schedule memorized anymore, but I could tell it was too early for lunch; Wings’ lap still contained her half-eaten breakfast. A voice enters the room, followed by a head draped with red hair, darker than Wings. “Katerina? Are you in here?” Her eyes perk up when she spots Wings. Wings looks pained, the same way she does when she talks about her family, and I can tell this overly-cheerful woman is her mother. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you!” The woman practically tackles Wings, planting kisses on her head, all the while making exaggerated “mwah, mwah,” sounds. Wings looks at me desperately, willing me to pretend this isn’t happening. I grin back at her, shaking my head slightly. I wonder briefly if I should take out my phone and record this for later blackmail. Wings’ mother finally finishes kissing her daughter’s hair, and begins talking at 723 syllables per minute. “Oh, sweetheart, the kids are all dying to see you again, but don’t worry, we’re heading right home, I already filled out the paperwork, and we can leave now.Aren’t you glad you don’t have to spend any more time sitting in this smelly hospital?” I stopgrinning. Wings is leaving? Who will I talk to? Before I can say or do anything, Wings’ mother has dragged her out the door. At the last second, Wings turns back and waves her cast at me, a strained smile on her face. I sit perfectly still as she blows me an exaggerated kiss. The door closes.
Chapter ThreeI look around the room. Wings bed still sits next to mine, her breakfast still uneaten, but Wings is gone. A lone orange slice sits; Wings refused to eat sliced oranges. She had nothing against an orange she peeled herself, but if it had been cut, she wouldn’t touch it with a meter-stick. I hear a shout from somewhere outside my room, then the sounds of doctors running and talking at equal speeds. One of the other patients must have hurt themselves. I don’t particularly care. I had suddenly been overcome with the need to sleep. It made sense; the past few nights, I’d stayed up pretty late talking to Wings. I smile, remembering our conversations about which anime character she resembled, then drift off into dreamland.
Chapter FourI’m awoken sometime later by another unscheduled knock at my door. I roll over and shout, “I’m trying to sleep!” I don’t move until I feel a hand stroke my hair. With effort, I roll over to yell at the intruder to go away, but when I see their face, my jaw drops. “Wings?” Her hand is wrapped in a brand new pink cast. “Missed me?” She asks, grinning. I blush, because honestly, I had. “What are you doing back here?” I put my hand on her new cast. “Promise not to laugh?” “Definitely not.” She continues anyways. “I fell down the stairs at the front entrance, and tried to catch the handrail with my bad arm.” She raises her pink arm, “Refractured all the old breaks, plus I dislocated my pinky.” I prove honest to my promise, and laugh. “Nice job. Did you do it on purpose?” Wings stares at me for a few seconds. “Why the hell would I do that? You’re cute an’ all, but I don’t like you that much.” I blush, trying to explain myself. “I just mean, you seemed pretty unhappy to be with your mom.” Wings laughs. “Nah, I was just embarrassed by her plastic headlights.” Wings makes an obscene gesture and I can’t help but let a snort escape. Things are back to normal already, and they stay that way for nine days before Wings drops her atomic bomb on me. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” “You’re not going to break your face on the way out?” I try to joke. I must have done a bad job, because Wings adds, “I’ll visit you twice a week, okay?” I try to smile, but I probably do a bad job at that too, because Wings stands up and sits on my bed, next to me and wraps her arm around me in an awkward half-hug. “Last time I left, you totally missed me, didn’t you?” I nod, sheepishly, “maybe a little. You are my only friend.” Wings seems to consider this for a moment. “Remember when you asked if I re-broke my wrist on purpose?” I nod, waiting for her to continue, which she does, after a deep breath. “Well… I did.” I stare, confused. Did she hate her family that much? Or- “I…” she started, “I wanted to spend more time with you.” I stare at her silently for a minute. “Liar,” I finally say, laughing, but unsure. Wings’ face stays serious, and a small smile appears on her face. “Honestly.” Suddenly, without warning, our lips are touching. My chest feels funny, like it’s full of… something. My heart is beating at an irregular rate. I feel as if a cool breeze has entered the room, sending a shiver down my spine. My face is burning red. I feel as if time is slowing to a stop. I feel… exactly the way Wings described running. I’m frozen, like a cliché in headlights. I feel like if I move, I might shatter. I’m kissing another girl. Shouldn’t I stop? I don’t think I want to stop. Not that I want to keep kissing her either. I’m frozen on the line of indecision. The paradox of not wanting to stop or continue. I think the kiss is short. It must be, since we don’t stop to breath. We weren’t full-on snogging or anything. It was just her lips on mine. Or my lips on hers? I’m not sure which of us initiated the kiss. Wings’ eyes were closed. Mine struggled not to do the same. If I close my eyes, I’ll be admitting that I enjoy this. Don’t I enjoy it? I’m not sure, but eventually, Wings’ lips separate from mine. She opens her eyes, but they’re nowhere near as wide as mine. She licks her lips and smiles at me, a blush on her cheeks. “Holy shit…” I whisper. “I know, isn’t it great?” Wings’ grin falters. “No, it- Oh god, I’m sorry, Lea- Was I- I didn’t mean to-” I glare at her, and to my shock and dismay she stops talking. I’m about to apologize, but my mouth disobeys. “I’m going to sleep. You should too.” With that I rolled over. I feel the pressure of Wings’ thighs leave my side, and I wish it would return, but it doesn’t. I hear the squeak of Wings’ bed as she lays down. I fall asleep shortly after.
Chapter FiveI wake in darkness. The dim light marking the exit is just bright enough that I can read the clock on the wall. 2:45. The hands produce a harmonious ticking, but their rhythm is ruined by the discordant sounds coming from the other bed. Wings is crying. I want to get up and comfort her, but I don’t have legs. I can’t do anything to help, so I just lay and listen. She’s still crying as I drift back to sleep.
Chapter SixWhen I wake up the next morning, she’s already gone. When Jonathan comes to help me dress myself, I tell him I don’t want any visitors. I’m not ready to face Wings again. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be. Jonathan is silent when I tell him this, but the scratching of his pen on his clipboard tell me I won’t be seeing anyone who doesn’t work for the hospital for a while. I spend the next fifty-four hours and thirty-eight minutes in silence. I eat only one meal a day, despite the stern looks from Jonathan, who at least has the decency not to talk to me. The silence is broken Thursday afternoon by Nurse Dean. “Liz? A girl named Kate is trying to see you. I told her you weren’t accepting visitors at this time, but she refuses to leave.” Honestly, I’m surprised Wings hasn’t tried to see me before. Or maybe she has, but this time she’s being more aggressive about it. “Tell her I’m asleep, or better yet, tell her the last time someone tried to visit me I clawed their eyes out.” Nurse Dean frowns, but nods. “I’ll tell her you’re sleeping then.” She turned and walked out the door, but stopped. “That’s odd, she’s gone. Maybe she went to the restroom?” I listen as the overweight nurse walks away, her shoes clacking on the tile. After a moment I hear her footsteps return to my room. “Lea, I know you’re awake.” That wasn’t Nurse Dean’s voice. “Wings? How did you-” “I hid behind the door, but that’s not important. I’m here to apologize. Please, hear me out.” I don’t want to hear her voice, but I knew Wings isn’t going to leave until I do, so I nod my head. Wings sighs, “I’m really, really, really sorry. Honestly, I thought- I thought you liked girls. I thought-” “I don’t.” I interrupt, “I don’t like girls. But I do like you, and it’s not your fault; it’s mine.” “What are you talking about? Of course it’s my fault. I’m the one who kissed you, I’m the-” “I wanted you to kiss me. I just- I wish you hadn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all me.” I’m not even sure what I’m talking about, but I know it’s true. “What? What’s you?” Wings looks at me questioningly, and I ask myself the same question. What’s wrong with me? “You’re just so… perfect!” I choke out, “and I- I’m just…” “What?” Wings looks worried. “And I’m just a cripple!” I shout. I’m sure I attract the attention of a nurse, but surprisingly, none appear. “I don’t even have legs past my knees! I can’t stand, let alone run! I can never keep up with you! You’re a track star who looks like a supermodel, and I’d just hold you back! I-” “What the fuck is your problem?” I flinch, and stop talking. In all the time we talked, Wings had never used any curse words. She even refused to say things like ‘stupid,’ or ‘crap.’ “Are you for real right now? This is all about your fucking legs? This whole time, I’ve thought, ‘dang, this girl’s got some serious guts, going on without legs, because god knows I would’ve offed myself by now,’ and I thought that no matter how fast I run, I’ll never be as strong as you, but obviously I’m wrong, because I would never ever let something as petty as my legs get between me and- between me and the girl of my dreams.” Her confession was quiet, lacking the anger of her previous statements. I swallow. She called me the girl of her dreams, but could I live up to that? Maybe I was being selfish. “Wings… I really like you, probably more than a friend should, but I couldn’t force you to put up with me. I mean, I can’t do anything. Wheelchairs are always in the way, and my parents can’t afford prosthetics, I have no-” “Shut up. Didn’t I just say you’re the girl of my dreams? That includes your legs, or lack thereof. I wouldn’t care if you had no arms either; I just want to be with you. Besides,” she adds, a lopsided grin threatening to spew forth a terrible pun, “who needs legs when you’ve got Wings?” The cheesiness of the line broke through the tension, and the two of us break into a fit of giggles. “Fine… You’re right.” I admit, “I never used my legs much anyways.” Wings blushes. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I just didn’t-” “Shut up,” I interrupt. Wings looks at me shocked. “You’re supposed to be kissing me right now” Next thing I knew, she was.
