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All of the nurses passing in and out of her room have blended into one blob of a face so unremarkable it’s disappeared into the wash of her mind. They all have matching smiles that are too cheery, but bright enough that they match the stark white glow of the fluorescent lights overhead and make her head ache. Supposedly her cardiologist came in at some point, but his face is lost among the revolving door of people coming in and checking her chart like ticking a box on a checklist.
Claire rolled on her side, wincing as the IV tube tugged on her skin. She stared at the balloons and cards and flowers and stuffed animals. Each and everyone impersonally picked by the family assistant because she was stupid enough to pass out at school, and every well-to-do family figured that a gift to the “sick girl” would count towards their charitable donation deduction on their taxes. Her fingers traced over the woven bracelet tied around her wrist by the only “friend” who had bothered to stop by for a visit and help her with her homework. It was the only thing personal to her in the entire room.
She huffed as she heard the door open, but pulled together a smile as she heard the sound of little feet running towards her. “Claire!” A tiny voice shouted excitedly, and Claire caught the flash of red ribbons tied into even braids as the little girl ran towards her.
“Hi, Katie,” she said, sitting up as the girl clambered up to sit at the foot of her hospital bed. “How was school?”
Kate beamed, kicking her legs excitedly and with so much enthusiasm that Claire worried for a second that her black uniform shoes would go flying off. “We got to paint today! Mrs. Jones says that once it dries, I can bring it to show you.” She tugged at the hem of her navy jumper, embroidered with the crest of their school in the upper corner. “She says she’s very sorry to hear that you’re in hospital and told me to wish you a sift recovery.”
“Swift,” Claire corrected habitually. “Swift recovery. It means fast.”
Kate nodded, slowly forming the letters with her own mouth, testing how the word felt. She smiled as she scooted closer to her sister. “Can we keep going with our book?”
Claire looked over to the nightstand, a worn copy of A Wrinkle In Time resting on top, next to the latest bouquet of flowers left for her. She grabbed it, carefully removing the bookmark as Kate curled up next to her. She cleared her throat, resting her finger under the word she was starting on so Kate could follow along. “Again, they focused their view on the crystal ball. The earth with it’s fearful covering of dark shadow swam out of view and they moved rapidly through the Milky Way. And there was the Thing again,” Claire began, shooting a glance to Kate, who’s brow furrowed. “Watch! The medium told them.”
“The Darkness seemed to seethe and writhe. Was this meant to comfort them?” She asked, looking down at her sister who shook her head slowly. Claire smiled. “You’ll see,” she murmured before picking her spot back up. “Suddenly there was a great burst of light through the Darkness. The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure. Then, slowly, the shining dwindled until it, too, was gone, and there was nothing but stars and starlight. No shadows. No fear. Only the stars and the clear darkness of space, quite different from the fearful darkness of the Thing. You see! The Medium cried, smiling happily. It can be overcome! It is being overcome all the time!”
Kate gasped excitedly as Claire moved to the next paragraph. “Mrs Whatsit sighed, a sigh so sad that Meg wanted to put her arms around her and comfort her. Tell us exactly what happened, then, please, Charles Wallace said in a small voice. It was a star, Mrs Whatsit said sadly. A star giving up its life in battle with the Thing. It won, oh, yes, my children, it won. But it lost its life in the winning.”
“Are you fighting the Thing?” Kate interrupted, tugging at the sleeve of her sister’s shirt. “Is that why you’re always in hospital?”
Claire’s mouth ran dry, her fingers hovering over the words “lost its life” as she plastered on a fake smile. “The Thing isn’t real, Kate. It’s just a story.” She moved her hand to keep the book open. “And you know why I’m in hospital. My heart just…formed a little differently, and it makes me sick sometimes.”
Kate’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout as she wrapped her arms around her sister. “Will they ever make you feel better?”
“That’s what they’re doing right now.”
“Are they gonna make it so you don’t have to spend so much time here?”
“I think they’re going to do their best.” She paused. “Is Mum or Dad here with you?”
“Mum is talking to one of the men in white coats about your heart. She told me to come spend time with you because you might be lonely.”
Claire smiled and shrugged. “Just another Thursday,” she sighed, sitting up and flipping the book back open. “Now, where were we?”