Alessa ran her fingers through the knots in her hair, used both hands to separate one she found near the end. She needed a shower with actual water pressure. She wasn’t sure the half bath-half shower Nurse Renee helped her with that morning actually got the soap out of her hair. Still, she lay back, feeling more comfortable in the dark grey yoga pants and baggy purple sweater she found in the bag Josh brought her. Her belly flip-flopped when she thought of him handing her that bag, of him going to pick up clothes for her from his sister. He said he wouldn’t be by, but if that changed, she thought it would be nice to be dressed in something other than the ill-fitting hospital gown.
Yes, because you should really be concerned with your wardrobe, not your memory loss or the fact you have no money, no home. She sat up slowly, remembering the driver’s license she put into the little drawer hidden in the bedside table. Pulling it out, she looked it over again. Her hair was styled more carefully in the tiny, grainy photo. Not hard to be more styled than it is now. Her birthdate read November 27, 1983. Thirty one. Turning thirty one. Soon. Questions scrambled over each other in her brain: What had she done for her thirtieth? Would her memory return by next month? Did she like chocolate cake? White? Did she have allergies?
The rant of uncertainty snowballing in her mind was stopped by Nurse Renee entering with a smile on her face and papers in her hand. Her scrubs had tiny flowers on white cloth and made Alessa think of spring, her favorite time of year. She loved planting tulips so she could seem them grow after the winter. The certainty of the thought surprised her.
“You’re dressed! In real clothes.” Renee set the papers down and grabbed the blood pressure cuff from the wall. She fixed it around Alessa’s arm with ease and inserted her earpieces before Alessa could say anything in response. Alessa kept her gaze on Nurse Renee and breathed through her nose.
“You’re good.” Renee put the blood pressure cuff back, smiled in a motherly way, and rubbed her hands together. “Guess who gets to go home?” she asked playfully.
Alessa’s stomach dropped. It plummeted hard and fast, and her throat tightened.
“It’s not multiple choice, honey. It’s you. You need to keep your stitches dry. I’ve got a prescription for you for pain medication. You can get it filled out on the same floor as billing, which is on the first floor,” Renee rambled happily.
“Jos—Dr. Parker didn’t say anything about me being discharged,” she mumbled around the ball of panic in her throat.
“Well, I spoke to him myself. All your tests are clear. He signed the papers. You’re good to go. I’ll help you get whatever you have together and wheel you down. Is there someone I can call to pick you up?”
Alessa bit her lip and looked down at her hands. There were scratches on the left one; long dark scratches that had started to scab over. On the right hand, her pinkie was swollen but not broken.
“Alessa?”
She pasted a smile on her face when she looked up. Do not be pathetic. Do not tell her you have nowhere to go.
“No. I’ll get my things together, and then I can go. I’ll . . . take a cab home.” She should be able to get somewhere for ten dollars. But where she had no idea.
Nurse Renee frowned at her, moved closer to the bed. “I’ll wheel you down.”
“I’m fine. I could use the exercise.”
“You could use some fattening up, actually, but it is hospital policy, so no use arguing.”
To keep the tears at bay, Alessa pushed at her teeth with her tongue until it hurt. Clenching her jaw, she scooted her legs off the side of the bed.
Renee moved to assist her. “I need to get the chair for you.”
“Well, I don’t have much so I’ll be ready when you get back.”
She used the bag that still held a couple of shirts and two pair of black yoga pants to gather the few items she had. She put the ten dollar bill she had into the bag, along with her driver’s license, trying not to think about how Josh hadn’t come to say goodbye. She’d let herself believe that the clothes meant something other than him feeling sorry for her. She shook her head, grabbed the papers Renee left on the table, and the three packages of crackers she hadn’t eaten with her soup from dinner. Renee came in with the chair, but Alessa kept her eyes down as she shuffled over to it and sat carefully, bag in her lap.
“No jacket?”
“No. The sweater is fine.”
“I’m going to take you to billing okay?”
“Sure.”
Maybe they won’t let me leave if I don’t pay. Biting the inside of her cheek, she kept her gaze on the bag in her lap, on her battered hands. Nurse Renee chatted with a woman that wore cute black Mary-Jane shoes on the elevator. When they arrived on the right floor, she pushed Alessa right up to the counter.
“Hi Julie Anne. We got us a parolee.” Renee laughed.
Alessa stood, looked at the very tall woman whose face fit the term “kindly grandmother” perfectly. Best to be standing when you lose the last of your self-esteem. She straightened her shoulders, looked the curly haired woman in the eyes.
“I don’t have any money, at all. I don’t have a bankcard. Or even know where my bank is actually. Or if I have a bank.”
Julie Anne covered her surprise quickly, earning a sincere smile from Alessa when her next expression was not one of pity.
“Why don’t I pull up your file, and we’ll have a look?”
Nurse Renee stayed quiet, but Alessa felt her move closer. “Her name is Alessa Matthews. She’s in room—”
“Four eighteen. Doesn’t anyone think I know anything around here?” Julie Anne interrupted, pretending to frown. She didn’t look down at the computer, but she did give Alessa a once over. “It’s your lucky day, my dear. Your bill is paid in full.” Alessa felt her mouth drop slightly. She looked at Nurse Renee who shrugged, then back at Julie Anne. “Th-that’s impossible,” Alessa stammered.
“Nothing is impossible. Certainly not this.”
Alessa huffed out a breath before speaking again. “Well, who?”
“It’s against the rules to tell you that.”
“How can I pay them back?”
Nurse Renee put a hand on Alessa’s arm as her tone edged toward tears. “Sweetie, ever hear the expression ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?’”
“Well, of course, but . . .” Alessa trailed off when she realized there was nothing she could say. It’s not like you could actually pay it anyway.
“We hope you enjoyed your stay.” Julie Anne smiled.
Renee helped Alessa back into the chair and placed the bag on her lap. She wheeled her toward the exit while Alessa sat in silence. She stopped just outside the automatic doors. The crisp air rushed at them ruthlessly. Alessa shivered, and Renee patted her shoulder.
“You can head right over there to the taxi stand. They’ll take you wherever you’re going.” Renee pointed in the darkness to the four waiting taxis. Their drivers leaned against their cars, laughing with each other while people walked past on the sidewalk.
Clutching the bag, shielding herself with it, she stood, met Renee’s gaze. “Thank you.”
Renee nodded. “Take care of yourself, Alessa. Good luck.” She looked like she might say more, but firmed her lips and turned the wheelchair to head back into the hospital.
Alessa stood on the cement of the hospital’s front entrance, people chatting quietly around her. The sound of a siren came from somewhere close by as one of the taxi drivers opened his back door for a man. Looking in the other direction, Alessa could see rows of cars parked in the darkness. The grass glistened under the lamps, reminding her it had rained earlier. She spotted a set of benches against the side of the building and ambled toward them.
Her chest felt like someone had stomped on it, but she made it to the bench before allowing herself to collapse. Setting the bag beside her, she put her hands on her knees and pushed the air out of her lungs, pulled it in. Breathe. It’ll be okay. Just take a minute and breathe. She gripped her knees with her fingers, causing a stab of pain in her pinkie. Loosening her hold, she let the tears come. The first sob gutted her, ripped through her lungs, and captured her breath. She slapped a hand to her mouth, trapping the sound, but it was too late. The tears poured as she rocked back and forth slightly. Drying them was pointless; they came too hard and too fast.