On top of mental issues, most coma patients also awoke to a plethora of physical problems. Her doctors had warned them she'd most likely need help walking, or talking, or using her basic motor skills. Her body's responses to her brain's instructions should've been significantly slowed down.
But they weren't. The coma had caused her to lose a significant amount of weight and her muscles had deteriorated some, and her leg was still stiff from the break, but that was it. She barely needed any physical therapy at all.
It was virtually unheard of for a four month coma patient to be in such good health upon waking.
Her story made the national news. It was kinda fun at first, watching August babbling to reporters on the nightly news, making an ass of himself. Seeing Adele's graduation picture in the newspapers, alongside a picture of the crash. It was like she was famous.
It stopped being fun, though, when a woman broke into her room and tried to wheel Adele out, all so she could bless the woman's coma-stricken son. Ocean had heard his sister screaming from down the hall. If her accident had shaved a year off his life, her screams had taken another five.
Adele had always been a happy person, always smiling, always talking. Now, though, she was withdrawn and quiet. Confused, and even seemed upset a great deal of the time. She scared easily. She seemed unsure of her surroundings. She recognized where she was and everyone around her, but there was definitely something ... different about her.
The doctors assured everyone that it was totally normal. What did they expect, she'd hop out of bed and dance a jig? They should be happy she could even speak. As it was, she had to go through a lot of physical therapy – after laying down for four months, walking wasn't as easy for her as it used to be, not to mention her broken tibia was still tender.
Everyone took turns visiting her, not wanting to overwhelm her all the time by coming in a big group. That afternoon was Ocean's time, and he was hurrying to bring her a coffee. By the time he got to her new room, though, the drink was cold. He frowned as he walked through the door.
“Sorry, I did it again, I went to your old ...”
His voice trailed off when he lifted his head and saw her. She was looking out the window to her right and didn't seem to be aware of his presence. She was crying. Not sobbing, no heaving breaths or loud moans, or anything. Just silence and stoicism as tears trickled over her cheeks.
“It's raining,” she whispered.
Ocean glanced out the window. It didn't rain a lot in L.A., but it wasn't exactly unheard of. Everything outside looked gray, the buildings distorted by the water running down the glass. He took a deep breath and moved to her bed.
“How you feeling today?” he asked in a gentle voice. She laughed and started wiping at her face.
“Super. Peachy keen. Is that for me?”
He handed over the tall paper cup and she took a healthy swig from it.
“Any news from the doctors?”
“Same as always.”
“Well ... I guess no news is good news.”
They were silent for a while after that – Ocean sipped at his coffee while Adele picked at the lip of her cup. The rain finally stopped outside, and one lonely ray of sunshine broke through the clouds. He watched her as she took several deep breaths, obviously gearing up to say something.
“They're bringing a psychiatrist tomorrow.”
“Is that why you were crying?”
She finally looked up, glaring as she opened her mouth to bark at him, “No. I'm crying because I don't want to be here.”
Ah. Hence the need for the psychiatrist.
Not the dream again. Please. I can't handle it today.
“Maybe he'll be able to fix you,” Ocean suggested.
“I'm not broken, I don't need to be 'fixed',” she snapped.
“Adele,” he sighed, leaning forward. “We don't know anything right now. They just want to make sure every part of you is okay – from your toes to your brain. You can tell him about ... about your dream, and maybe he'll have some insight.”
Her coffee cup flew past his head and smacked into the wall behind him.
“It was not just a dream!” she shouted. “I remember it better than I remember anything else. Better than school, better than my job, better than -”
She cut herself off, and Ocean was glad, because if she had said “better than you”, he didn't think he would've handled it very well.
The Dream, that's what they'd all taken to calling her wild story. He didn't know what else to call it – what other word was there for something a person made up while they were sleeping?
During her first examinations after waking up, Adele had been asked repeatedly if she could remember what had happened to her, and if she knew how long she'd been asleep for; Ocean had been in the room the first time she'd been asked. For the first question, she'd told them she couldn't remember what had happened to put her in the hospital – she only knew what had been told to her. Then she'd thought about the second question for a long time before finally throwing out a guess.
“Two weeks? Maybe three? That feels about right.”
“Ms. Reins, you've been unconscious for nearly four months.”
“Huh. Four months. My second guess was gonna be 'forever', so at least I was close.”
And that's when they'd all realized something was wrong with Adele. When the doctor had asked her to clarify her statement, she'd told them a fantastical story. Explained how she'd been in another world. A place where rail car diners actually moved on train tracks, and people could change color, and the ocean never ended.
She sounds fucking insane.
But she wasn't. In fact, whenever she talked about her dream, that's when she became the most animated. Those were the times when Ocean felt like he was seeing the old Adele again. She really thought all those crazy things had happened to her while she'd been asleep, and she grew angry with her family when they didn't believe her.
“It's not that I don't believe you,” Ocean lowered his voice. She looked away from him, her stare returning to the window. “I just ... I can't understand, I guess. I believe you think you were there, I believe that you believe that, okay?”
Adele took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He hated that – he'd gone so long without seeing them open, it always scared him a little. She sat there for a moment, holding completely still, then she slowly opened her eyes again.
“I hate it,” she breathed.
“Excuse me?”
“I hate closing my eyes.”
He reached out and patted her leg comfortingly.
“You don't have to be scared. You're not going anywhere. I won't let you.”
She turned to look at him again.
“I hate it because I know when I open them, I'll still be here. And I want to be back there.”
And in that moment, Ocean discovered what it felt like to have his heart break for somebody.
20
The hospital had no more reasons to keep her. They'd done all the tests they could think of – she'd been scanned more times than she could count. Her lungs and rib cage were fine (she couldn't remember them not being fine), she was almost walking at a normal pace (at least she wasn't falling over anymore), and overall, she was a healthy girl. They had to let her go home.
Home. What does that even mean? Certainly not happiness.
Charlie had had been incredibly understanding and had of course immediately offered to bring her back to their apartment. She didn't want to go home with her parents and brothers – couldn't bear the idea of their constant scrutiny – but she also didn't want Charlie having any false hopes. They were done, their three year relationship a pale memory in comparison to what she'd had in her dreams.
When she'd explained that to him, very bluntly, she'd been shocked to see his relief. Then he'd explained himself. The hours surrounding the accident were still fuzzy, so he told her about how they'd been at a birthday party. When she'd asked whose, he'd turned several shades of red, and a light bulb had gone off over her head.
“You like someone else.”
“We talked about it right before we got in the car. I'm so sorry.”
She'd almost laughed out loud. He was sorry? She'd gone and fallen in love with a possible figment of her imagination. Out of the two of them, Charlie wasn't the guilty party.
He eventually told her about their break-up conversation, which she couldn't fully remember, but she could still feel that he was telling the truth. Later, Zoey would also confirm it – Adele had texted her right before the accident.
She teased him about it, joking that if she didn't remember it completely, then it didn't count. He couldn't get rid of her that easily! He'd laughed, then assured her that couple or not, she was always welcome in his – their – apartment anytime she wanted.
Home is in a land far, far away, and I'm terrified that with each day I'm gone, I'll get further and further away.
Being in their apartment made her feel uncomfortable, though. She stayed in the guest room, and Charlie stayed in the master, and she took every opportunity she could to escape out into the world.
Which was how she ended up out on a “girls' night” with her best friend.
“You sure you're okay?”
Adele glanced down at Zoey.
“I'm fine.”
“Still ... just want to make sure.”
They were in a busy sports bar down the street from Zoey's apartment. It had been six weeks since Adele had woken up, and her friend had insisted that it was high time coma-girl got her ass back into the swing of things.
Which apparently meant getting drunk.
Adele knew it was a ploy, though. Zoey was just worried about her. Hell, everyone was worried. Because despite what the doctors had said in the beginning, Adele's mental state was not improving. If anything, Adele was getting worse.
But if pretending to be happy and consuming alcohol would make everyone shut up for five minutes, then she was willing to play along.