Traces: Part Three

[sowritesauds]

Part Three

From the time the surgeon left the room, Jeff worked to formulate a plan.

His first idea was to pretend to be asleep, then sit up and yell ‘AHA!’ loudly when Annie entered the room. But he didn’t want to scare her off or upset her. Jeff was genuinely curious about the reason she didn’t want him to know she was visiting her, so keeping her as calm as possible was key.

Dr. Hermann had filled him in somewhat with the details of Annie’s clandestine visits. The first night of Jeff’s stay, when he had been unconscious and had been wheeled up to his room after emergency surgery, the group had been eager to be with him. But since hospital visiting hours were over, only spouses and immediate family were allowed on the floor. Annie had registered herself at the nurses’ station as Jeff’s wife.

Then, since she made such a convincing young bride, she had continued the nighttime visits, claiming she had to work and school all day (which she did) and wanted to make sure he wasn’t alone at night. The nurses and staff fell in love with her, and even though they eventually figured out she wasn’t actually his wife, they let her come in each night to sleep by his side. Which was sweet, but… also odd. Why hadn’t she wanted to see him when he was awake?

Since he needed answers, and not hysterical tears, Jeff decided the “AHA!’ plan was definitely out. His next idea was not to be in bed when she came in so that she would have to seek him out. However, he figured she would probably go home without seeing him.

Perhaps he should stay awake, and just fix her with a pleasantly perplexed grin as she snuck in the door? That had potential. But he didn’t want her to freeze up. What he would absolutely love to do-but couldn’t because his leg was in traction and in a thigh-to-ankle cast-was lay there, fully nude, in the Burt Reynolds pose, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Unfortunately, he knew it would probably only serve to confuse her.

While he was trying to figure out how exactly to catch Annie, he heard her voice coming down the hallway. Quickly, he scrambled to cover himself up with the thin sheet and scratchy blanket that served as his hospital bedding. He smashed his face into one of his pillows, shutting his eyes tightly as he heard the click-clack of Annie’s flats coming toward him in the hallway. He took deep breaths, trying to find the right rhythm to fool her into thinking he was asleep. So that was what he was going with? Pretending to be asleep? He had no choice but to run with it (laying in bed trying not to breathe hard was the opposite of running, but whatever) because he could see Annie’s hand pushing the door to his room open, letting in a stream of light that illuminated her shadow against the far wall.

Jeff struggled to keep his breathing under control as she inched toward the window silently. Through one eye barely open, he watched as she carefully withdrew a pair of black boxer briefs from a bag on her shoulder, and sat them on the radiator under the window, smoothing a wrinkle in the fold and patting them contentedly.

Annie then crouched down and placed a clean white roll of tube socks into the left tennis shoe, scooting the shoes so the toes were tucked under the radiator. Then she stood and sat down in the uncomfortable-looking wooden chair with the plastic cushion that sat at an angle between his hospital bed and the window so that it faced the TV. She turned to look at him, and he shut his eye just in time, he thought, so that she wouldn’t notice anything.  She sat there in silence for what felt like ten minutes before digging around in her bag for something-Jeff squinted one eye, spying her lifting a book and book light out of her blue backpack. She began reading, taking care to turn the pages extra quietly, and Jeff closed his eyes again.

Slowly, his breathing began to even out, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep. In that space between awake and dreaming, he realized he was feeling more content in her presence than he had in the past three weeks. Jeff savored the thought of Annie just feet away from him, and inhaled her soothing lavender scent. He let himself slip into dreams, telling himself that in the morning, he would talk to her.

---

The sky outside Jeff’s window was cloudy and grey, so he wasn’t awoken by the sun’s ascent the next morning as he had been in the days before. Instead, an

orderly had the misfortune of bumping his shin into the foot of Jeff’s bed.

“What the hell?!?” Jeff exclaimed, as he was shaken awake by the impact, his eyes popping open as he propped himself up on his good elbow.

“Holy shi- sorry, man,” the elderly said. His nametag said “José,” and as he drew closer to the bed, limping a little, Jeff caught a whiff of sweat and Axe body spray.

“What time is it?” Jeff asked, already annoyed. He had gone to sleep so peacefully, and was trying to remember why…

“It’s like ten a.m. dude,” José said. “You slept through breakfast. I’ll get a tray up here for you soon, man.”

“Thanks, dude,” Jeff said sarcastically. If José picked up on the edge in his voice, he didn’t let on.

“Where’d that hot chick go that was in here earlier?” José asked.

“Excuse me?” Annie-Annie had been here. And now she was gone. He had ruined his chance to talk to her! Maybe he could call her. Maybe she would answer this time. Why was he so desperate to see her? She was just Annie.

“You know, the brunette. Short skirt. Nice rack. Is she your girlfriend?” José stared at Jeff expectantly.

“Excuse me.” It wasn’t a question this time.

“You hittin’ that or what?”

“GUNILLA!!!” Jeff yelled, pressing the “Call Nurse” button with wild abandon. José backed up, eyes wide, looking put out.

“Woah man,” he said, holding both hands in front of his body in surrender. “It’s complicate. I get it. No harm meant.”

“Listen, man, get out of here before you get the German ass-kicking of a lifetime,” Jeff threatened him, seething. He had gone from asleep to annoyed to angry in less than a minute, and could hear the increased beeping from the heart monitor accompanying his increased heart rate.

“Chill out, hombre,” José said, rolling his eyes and leaving the room. “Besides, Gunilla’s out sick today. It’s Becky’s shift. See the board?” he said patronizingly, indicating the white board on the wall where he’d written “Becky” under the “Nurse” column.

Jeff just stared at him until he left the room. The orderly shook his head and muttered under his breath, but Jeff didn’t care what José thought. Where did he get off talking about Annie like that? Annie, who had been sneaking around the hospital at night, pretending to be his wife so she could see him, yet wouldn’t come when he was awake.

Jeff sat back, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what he had done to make her act this way. Usually he was responsible for any weird behavior she exhibited-whether it was badassery during paintball or girlish demeanor after their highly intense and ridiculously mistaken kiss, he had become used to the fact that the way he treated her often resulted in unexpected conduct.

He wished he could remember something, anything, about the day he got hit, but all he could muster was that flash of recognition as he saw the car speeding toward him, and the look in Duncan’s eye as he had swerved at the last minute to avoid… what? Then a crash, blackness, pain, throbbing, screaming, an ambulance: all of it was a blur. But everything before it was nothing. He remembered getting out of bed, doing his crunches, showering and getting ready, driving to Greendale, seeing the study group, and then… and then what?

Jeff shook his head as if to clear it, like shaking an etch-a-sketch to clear the squiggly picture. It was too stressful trying to remember. He had the feeling that Annie had been acting strangely for the few weeks leading up to the accident though. First there was the back-to-school party, then her insistence they all take a psychology course (they hadn’t). He had tested a “Milady” out on her one day, and had been met with a curt “Hi Jeff,” even worse than the sting he felt when she brushed off his attention during paintball. But who could blame her-he had denied the very existence of their flirtation, dismissed it as simple chemistry, in front of their closest friends, after revealing he had been sleeping with Britta for the entire school year. No wonder she didn’t want to see him.

Yet the Annie he liked most would never avoid him like this. She would straighten her back, stand on tiptoe, look him straight in the face and tell him exactly what she thought. That was the Annie he got when he pissed her off, but not so much that she was hurt-just enough so that the Inner Annie that wanted everyone to be his or her best self came out in full force.

This weird, quiet, secretive Annie baffled him. Shaking his head, he reached

for his cell phone and dialed her number from memory. For what seemed like the eightieth time that week, he listened as it rang six times, and then her familiar voicemail greeting came on, telling him to leave a message and she’d get back to him.

“Liar!!!” he growled into the phone, then clicked “end” as violently as possible before throwing it onto his mattress, hard. He watched as it bounced, almost as if it was in slow motion, and fell to the floor with a crack. Instinctively, Jeff leaned over the bed and tried to grab it, straining his left side, which was anchored to the bed by his left leg that was suspended in a sling, and soon found himself dangling halfway off the bed with his right elbow clutched painfully to his side.

“HELP!! NURSE!!” he yelled, as all the blood in his body seemed to rush into his head. He was resisting the urge to extend his right arm and clutch at the bar on the other side of his bed and lift himself back up. He wasn’t sure which would be more painful-dangling here for another minute, or abusing his already injured arm in order to save himself. He couldn’t reach the “call nurse” button, so resorted to pleading cries.

“Please! Someone? Help me!” Jeff half-whined, trying to be loud enough so that someone passing by would be alerted to his situation.

The door burst open and Becky rushed in, followed by Troy, who looked at Jeff with wide eyes before bursting into laughter. Becky struggled to right Jeff, who was trying to help by tensing and flexing any available muscle, but was actually making things worse. Jeff’s leg had twisted around, and he was now supporting most of his weight on his left arm, laying on his chest on top of it, and halfway off the edge of the bed.

Becky looked to Troy, who was nearly doubled over in hilarity, and beckoned him. “C’mere and hold down his shoulder,” she commanded, and Troy snapped to attention, but not before taking out his phone and snapping a picture of Jeff’s predicament.

“Britta’s going to love this,” Troy said smugly, as he crossed the room to the other side of Jeff’s bed.

After much painful maneuvering, loud cursing on Jeff’s part, and giggles on Troy’s behalf, Jeff was finally set right a few long seconds later.

“You weren’t trying to get out of bed?” Becky scolded him, bending down to pick up the pieces of his Blackberry. She handed it to Troy, who put the battery back in and turned it on. Jeff sighed in relief as it powered up.

“Dropped my phone,” Jeff said dryly. “But I do need to pee,” he said.

Becky nodded and lowered his leg, then helped him into his wheelchair. Troy occupied himself on Jeff’s Blackberry as Jeff and Becky went through the morning bathroom routine-using the toilet, brushing his teeth, washing his face, combing his hair (no need for gel, he had actual bedhead). Every morning, Jeff missed home more and more. When his mom had visited the week before she had offered to bring him some of his favorite products, but Jeff saw no need for them in the hospital. There was no one around he was trying to impress.

Half an hour later, Jeff was finally able to settle back into bed and sit with Troy, who had already set the channel on ESPN. They were watching a sports blooper clip show an hour later when José the orderly came in again, and Jeff instantly tensed. José eyed him cautiously, then wrote something in his chart, left the room, and returned with a tray of disgusting-smelling hospital food.

“Ugh, what is that?” Troy said, looking at the tray with a sickened expression.

Jeff pulled off the lid to reveal a plate of dry-looking broiled chicken, steamed green beans and carrots, and a pathetically half-melted cup of green Jell-O. He held his arm out patiently for José, who wrapped it in a blood pressure cuff stuck the shiny cold head of his stethoscope underneath.

“Sucks to be you,” Troy said gravely. “Green Jell-O is the worst.”

José finished his task, making another notation on the chart before leaving the room, shaking his head. Jeff rolled his eyes and held his fork and knife out to Troy.

“No thanks man, I’m not hungry… anymore,” Troy said, shaking his head.

“No,” Jeff sighed, hating that he even had to ask. Shirley and Britta instinctively knew what to do, but Troy had never been to visit during one of Jeff’s meals. “Could you please…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

“Oh,” Troy said, his face showing his recognition. “Dude, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, dude,” Jeff mumbled. Getting old was hell.

---

The rest of the day passed by slowly, as Jeff laid in bed trying to figure out how to get Annie to talk to him. It was his new obsession, the puzzle he was trying most to put together. He knew that she was somehow linked to his accident, and wondered briefly if it had been her fault; but no, he clearly remembered Duncan at the wheel of that car. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that Annie had been there, had seen everything.

Perhaps she had seen everything, and couldn’t stand facing him and talking to him. But no, that was too dramatic, even for Annie. Perhaps she truly was just busy, and could only come at night, and was either asleep or showering or in class or at work every single time he called her. But for her not to even send him a quick text message made absolutely no sense to him.

The more he tried not to fixate on Annie, the more his brain seemed to focus on her. He sat, zombie-like, wracking his brain and dissecting every single conversation he’d had with her in the last year, trying to find something-anything-that would clue him in to her behavior. When Britta showed up for an hour that afternoon, he sat in silence, the television volume barely turned up, pretending to be fascinated with “Ice Road Truckers” as she worked on a hat for baby Benjamin in silence. She seemed relieved not to receive a tongue-lashing when she dropped a needle and it clanked to the floor loudly; but Jeff barely noticed as she picked it up and continued her work.

At dinnertime, when the second-shift orderly Lisa came in with another bland meal of steamed fish and vegetables, then took down his blood pressure and gave him a look of pity mixed with disappointment, Jeff decided it was time to calm down. Sitting in bed stressing about Annie’s motives wasn’t going to make him better.

He had to focus on getting his blood pressure down so he could have his surgery and get out of the hospital and go back to his real life. He ruefully took the surgeon’s advice (where was that asshole, anyway?) and turned the television to the Discovery channel, where a “Planet Earth” marathon was playing. As he watched tiny tree frogs jumping from leaf to leaf to lay their eggs, Jeff could feel himself beginning to relax. His forehead no longer felt tight and strained, the dull ache in his head was beginning to wane, and his palms weren’t as clammy.

That was, until the one person who was guaranteed to cause him stress entered his room. Jeff’s mouth dropped open in disbelief as Ian Duncan stood in the doorway. Before Jeff could yell at him to get out, Duncan spoke.

“Jeff, let me start by saying how truly sorry I am.”

Jeff returned Duncan’s declaration with stony silence.

“I cannot believe that this even happened. The whole thing seems like a bad dream,” Duncan said. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Jeff scanned Duncan for signs of drunkenness. But the man wasn’t slurring or swaying. He was standing there, calmly, using his I’m-being-rational-and-won’t-you-please-be-rational-too? voice. His hands were held out, open-palmed, just as José the orderly’s had been that morning. It was as if Duncan was preparing himself for the predictable, raging Jeff Winger, the one who would throw a hurtful zinger out there and have him arrested.

That Jeff Winger had yelled at a teenaged orderly, screamed into his best friend’s voicemail machine, gotten himself twisted into painful contortions, and been pissed off at every single thing all day long, from the volume that Troy chose on the television to the level of pepper on his broiled fish.

Jeff Winger was tired of being predictable.

Taking a deep, calming breath, and closing his eyes, he counted backwards from ten.

“You may continue,” Jeff said quietly, and relief flashed over Duncan’s face. The man took a few cautious steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, and eventually made his way to a stool sitting underneath the sink attached to the wall next to the bathroom door.

Duncan had been having a rough day, he explained, and was driving a lot faster in the parking lot than he should have been. He was leaving school early, had cancelled his afternoon classes, so that he could go to the bar and have his first drink in over a month. When he had seen Jeff and Annie crossing from the sidewalk that ran around the perimeter of the school to the parking lot, his foot seemed frozen on the gas. For some reason, he could not brake, and he wasn’t sure what the reason was, but he was terrified of it happening again. After seeing Jeff being carted off to the hospital in an ambulance, he had literally run to his apartment, a few miles away, and sat on his couch with all the lights off, alone.

This imagery was enough to make Jeff feel pity for him, but what he said next was even worse. The police had tracked knocked on the door a few hours later, only to find him three-quarters of the way through a bottle of Jack Daniels. They had taken him into the station and kept him on several charges, including leaving the scene of an accident. He had stayed in the jail overnight, and then Dean Pelton had bailed him out. He resigned from his job that morning, then went straight to an AA meeting, and had gone every day since.

“I know it’s been hard on you,” Duncan said, eyeing Jeff’s leg in the sling, then letting his eye run up to Jeff’s battered arm, before finally resting on the still-scabby patch of road rash on the side of Jeff’s face. “I know you’re in pain. And I’m so, so sorry to have caused it.”

Jeff nodded. He could tell that it had been a painful time for Duncan as well. They had bused each others’ chops, been what Abed would call “frenemies” for years now, yet had managed to never have a serious conversation. It made him very… adult to forgive.

“Thank you for coming here and apologizing,” Jeff said. “I… forgive you.”

“You do! Oh wow, that’s a relief,” Ian said, exhaling loudly. “Wow, man, that’s really, really big of you.” On any other day he would have said this sarcastically and ironically, but today, Jeff could tell he actually did mean it.

Duncan stood up from the chair, leaning over to shake Jeff’s hand. The two men smiled kindly at each other, and Duncan turned to leave the room, when the door swung open and Annie walked in.

Jeff was delighted to see her, but his delight quickly turned to confusion when he saw the surprised, shocked, even-could it be fearful?-certainly perplexed expression on her face. She looked right past Jeff to the man standing at the side of his bed, and Jeff turned his head to find Duncan looking almost as if he was trying to shrink into the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Annie asked gravely. She was now staring at Duncan, looking as angry as Jeff had ever seen her. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her red sweater made her look as if she was almost radiating heat. He half expected to see steam pouring from her ears as if this were a cartoon.

“Right… best be off,” Duncan said, trying to keep a light, cheery note in his voice.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Annie said.

“I know, I just….”

“Just what?” Annie crossed her arms.

“I wanted to apologize,” Duncan replied.

“Apologize? Oh, sure, apologize away. That’s sure going to fix Jeff’s leg, and his arm, and his face,” Annie said. “Yeah, go on, apologize the medical bills and the lost time away. And while you’re at it, apologize for intentionally failing me, then quitting your job, so not only do I have an F, it’s in a class that doesn’t even exist!”

Jeff’s head whipped back to Duncan as if it were a particularly engrossing tennis match. Duncan had done what? The man seemed to have no defense.

“How about apologizing for purposely running me down in the parking lot, and hitting the wrong person?” Annie continued, her voice rising, becoming shrill.

“That’s a very serious accusation you’re throwing out there, young lady-“

“Don’t you young lady me! You threatened me in your office, and not twenty minutes later came barreling through the parking lot, headed straight for me. If it wasn’t for Jeff, I wouldn’t even be standing here right now!” She shrieked.

Jeff was incensed. How could this be true? Things happened at Greendale, sure, but not life-threatening things. Sure, there had been that weird Halloween party no one remembered, or a game of paintball that got out of hand, but… attempted murder? At Greendale? That simply wasn’t funny at all.

Jeff silently hit the “call nurse” button on his bed for the second time that day, this time hoping no one would notice.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” It came out as a growl, and Jeff looked Duncan square in the eye and fixed him with as intimidating a stare as he could muster. Duncan again assumed the unoffending pose he’d come in with, holding both hands, palm open, toward Jeff and backing slowly toward the door where Annie stood.

“Maybe when we’ve all cooled off a bit, we could discuss this over lunch,” Duncan said in a placating tone.

“The only way that’s happening is if lawyers are involved,” Jeff replied. “Now get out.” Duncan looked about to resist, but thankfully, three nurses and an orderly had rushed to his room.

“Sir,” A.J. the head nurse said sternly, “You’re not permitted to visit this patient. We’re going to need you to come with us.”

Duncan, looking frightened and cornered, stepped around the staff and then ran from the door. Jeff heard his shoes squeak as they pounded down the hallway, and A.J. (who looked like Mr. Clean, but ten times stronger), hustled to follow him. The other nurses trotted down the hallway after him, one of them using her in-hospital cell phone to contact security. Jeff craned his neck to see the action, but couldn’t get a good look at the scene. So he trained his focus on Annie, who had backed against a wall and was standing there, worrying her lip with her teeth, her red-sweatered arms folded tightly under her chest.

“So…” Jeff said, breaking the tension. “You’ve been going through my underwear drawer?”