Curse of Genius by Taylor White
* * *
The very next thing I remember is slowly opening my eyes in a well-lit room. My vision is slightly blurred at first, and I'm confused.
Then I suddenly see my mom's face, hovering over me. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, and I can hear the struggle in her voice, trying not to cry as she speaks.
"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" she asks, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"My head hurts a little, but I'm okay."
I quickly notice I'm in a hospital room when I look down and see my dad rushing to the side of the bed next to my mom, followed by Hailey and Carson running around to the other side.
And standing at the end of the bed is Becca. She looks at me, her eyes swollen and red, still crying as if she never stopped. I can tell she's too upset to speak, so we just lock eyes and connect for a minute.
The next thought that pops into my head is Bryson.
"Where's Bryson? Is he okay?" I ask, nervously looking from Becca to my parents.
"Yeah, he's fine," my dad says. "They're still checking him out right now, but he's okay. You took the brunt of the impact."
"He did manage to hang on to your roses," Becca smiles, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "He asked me to bring them to you." She points to the table against the wall. I look over at them and grin slightly, but only for a split second; I have more questions.
I look back at Becca. "Where's Holly?"
"She's in the waiting room with her parents and mine."
I nod. "So, what exactly happened?"
"A drunk driver ran the red light," my mom says.
"Yeah," Dad nods. "He was ejected through the windshield and killed."
Then my dad begins to choke up, which I don't think I've ever seen before.
"We were really lucky, Dor." He grips my hand. "That car pretty much hit you head-on."
Hailey grabs my other hand. "You're gonna be okay, aren't you, Dor?" she asks, her voice breaking up.
I squeeze her hand and look at her. "Of course I am, girlie. Look at me, I'm fine."
"You better be fine. I've got an Algebra Two test Monday and I need your help," Carson grins, choked up, as well.
"I don't know, though, baby," my mom says, her chin quivering. "The doctor who came in here earlier said you could have some brain swelling."
I grin. "He said what?"
"Yeah," my dad begins, shaking his head. "It was a different doctor who came in here a little while ago, a really young looking guy. The doctor who saw you when you first came in went into surgery. But this young guy, I don't know, he just looked so unsure of everything he was saying, almost like his dad got him the job here or something."
"And he was extremely rude, too," Mom adds.
I stare at them, stunned.
"Wow?well, y'all will be happy to know that he does in fact have no idea what he's talking about," I say.
Tears plummet down my mom's cheeks again.
"Mom, believe me, I'm fine. If I had any kind of swelling of the brain, I would not be laying here talking to y'all like normal right now, okay? I'm perfectly fine, Mom, promise." I rub her arm to comfort her.
She nods and wipes her eyes, looking relieved.
"Yeah, and he also said something about your?R.F?.or something, possibly being damaged. That it's some kind of track that keeps your brain healthy?" my dad says, looking to me for confirmation.
I close my eyes and shake off the cobwebs. The cobwebs of an incompetent doctor.
"The R.A.S. is what he was referring to. The R.F is something else entirely."
"What is the R.A.S?" Mom asks.
"It's a structure in the brain stem. It has an ascending track which works to arouse the brain. It's a system of acetylcholine-producing neurons. And once again, if that was damaged, I'd either be in a coma right now, or awake with no memory or perception."
I grow increasingly irritated as I talk. Irritated that this "doctor" came in here and scared my family with complete nonsense.
"And if he comes back in while I'm sleeping or something?" I begin speaking slowly and sarcastically, mocking the rude, inept doctor. "Tell him the R.A.S. and the cerebral cortex will be the two critical components we'll need updates on."
"R.A.S. and cerebral cortex, got it," my dad says as he points at me. "We'll just tell him to give that message to the real doctor," he jokes.
Everyone laughs.
"But, I mean, you're feeling okay, right?" Becca asks.
I nod. "I have a little headache, but yeah, I'm fine."
Then, out of the blue as I'm sitting here, I start to think about my genius. It literally just pops into my head like an uninvited guest. I start thinking that if I wasn't so lucky and this accident was much worse, I could have lost it all. It would have simply gone to waste, and no one would've ever even known it existed. And just like that, believe it or not, I have a complete and total change of heart. Crazy.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" Mom asks, noticing my blank stare.
I hesitate, watching Becca closely.
"I want to reveal my genius," I say softly.
I know my parents will be thrilled with this decision, and it has no effect on Carson or Hailey either way. Becca is the only person who could be affected by this.
"Really?" my mom asks.
I nod, still looking Becca in the eyes.
"I now realize how quickly things can happen. I don't want to miss the opportunity to contribute to the world."
Becca tilts her head and grins at me. She knows just by looking into my eyes that I'm asking for her permission without actually asking. Then she walks around the side of the bed and takes my hand.
"Go for it, Dor," she smiles. "Nothing can come between us."
As she leans over to hug me, I realize everything will be okay. No matter where this decision may take me, Becca will be there, helping me through.
"I'm kind of sleepy. I think I'm gonna take a nap," I say after Becca stands back up.
"Is that a good idea?" Dad asks.
I smile. "Yeah, it'll be fine."
As I close my eyes and start to drift off to sleep, several things run through my mind. Bryson, the Ferris wheel, the accident?but last, and most importantly, revealing my genius, and having Becca's full support. I'm finally ready to get this sixteen-year secret off my chest.
17
Homebound
I slowly open my eyes once again in this hospital bed. Only now, the sun is creeping through the slightly-opened window shade, and my head hurts a little more than before.
I immediately notice Becca on the ridiculously small, uncomfortable-looking couch against the wall just under the window. She's curled in a ball on her side, sound asleep. She's also wearing the same clothes as last night, suggesting that however long I've been here--I say 'however long' because I have absolutely no idea what time it is--she hasn't strayed more than a few feet from my bed. Not that I ever thought for a second she would, but it's still a comforting sight. As I look at her, a small lump forms in my throat and I try to keep from tearing up when I think about all the pain and worry this whole thing has caused her.
As I turn my aching head and slowly scan the rest of the room, I'm anxiously wondering three things: First, the time. I'm one hundred percent certain it's the next day because I wouldn't nap for days, but I have no clue of the time. Second, I'm wondering why in the world there doesn't seem to be a clock in this room. I stretch my head back on my pillow to inspect the wall behind my bed after inspecting the other three. No clock. Kind of weird. And finally, I'm wondering where everyone else is. But as curious as I am to find out the answers to these things, there's no way I'm going to wake Becca to ask her; I want her to sleep.
I cup my hand around my chin and slowly turn my head each way, pushing it slightly past its stopping point on each side. Then I tilt it from side to side, once again tugging it down further with each hand. I look up and down and all around and every which way possible. And I realize that other than the migraine, everything seems to
I lay my head back on my pillow and stare at the ceiling, trying my best to ignore this headache, and I start to reflect on everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours or so. The very first thing to consume my thoughts, of course, is the accident. Not that I want to think about the accident, but I can't really help it, and my stomach immediately turns when I think about the details.
I think back to what I was doing just before the accident, when I was texting Becca and Holly about the possible race in front of us. I think about the two cars revving their engines and how excited I was. I think about how confused I became when Bryson suddenly yelled at me, and how scared I quickly felt when I turned and saw the headlights. I thought about the flashing lights, the strange people, Becca crying, waking up in the hospital--pretty much the whole ugly mess. And I find myself tearing up once again.
I briefly glance back at Becca as I wipe my eyes, and then I force myself to think about something else. Something much sweeter?something exciting: my amazing first kiss from Bryson. The fact that it even happened is crazy to think about. After sixteen years, my first kiss is no longer something I'm waiting for. I'm now only waiting for my next kiss, and I'm definitely curious to see how it will top the first one. I think back to the amazing ride on the Ferris wheel, and how he held me so close and so tight. I start to wonder if he's thinking about me and wanting me as much as I'm wanting him right now, wherever he may be.
Then I think about revealing my genius to him. I play out the scenario in my mind of me telling him, and then him responding both poorly, and well. Not knowing what his reaction will be does scare me, but I feel like it's something I have to do now. With any luck at all, everyone will respond well to the news and my life won't change all that much?
"Hey, there, sleepy head," I suddenly hear in a raspy tone.
My train of thought disappears as I quickly turn my head to see Becca sitting up on the couch, looking at me with sleepy eyes and a half-grin.
"Hey," I respond, off-guard and excited. "Did you sleep okay? I know that couch can't be all that comfortable." I ramble on, checking on her as if she's the one in the hospital bed instead of me. But again, I know this whole thing has been really tough on her, as well. And for all I know, she just fell asleep all curled-up and cold on that light grey, rock-solid structure under the window that the hospital passes off as a couch.
But she just looks at me and giggles. "Shouldn't I be the one asking how you are?" she jokes as she stands up and walks toward me. Even though I'm still curious to know how she's doing, I understand her point.
"Yeah, I guess so." We both chuckle as she leans over to hug me. Then she stands back up and looks at me with a hopeful expression.
"So, you're still feeling okay, right?" Her eyes immediately widen with a mixture of curiosity and fear, completely masking the exhaustion that stood out only a few seconds ago. Just like my parents last night, she needs me to confirm to her that I'm going to be perfectly fine, and that I won't be confined to this hospital room for the rest of my life and wither away in this bed. As much as it pains me to see her worry, it is comforting to know I have the power to put her mind at ease to some extent. So knowing I truly am okay overall, I proceed to gush over how great I'm feeling.
"Yeah, I mean, I feel fantastic. Almost even better than before the accident," I smile. And I didn't plan on mentioning the headache, but it's just hurting too badly; I need some medicine. "Except, of course, for this little annoying headache. You know, which is completely normal," I say, totally downplaying this skull-crushing migraine. My head feels like it's about to fall off my shoulders any second now.
"Oh, well, no problem, my dear. I have just the thing for you," she says in a silly voice, gracefully gliding and twirling around my bed with her arms outstretched as if she's a ballerina. I can only assume she's thrilled to hear I'm okay.
I giggle as she glides her way over to the tall tray on the other side of my bed, where two blue pills are sitting on a napkin next to a cup of water. She stops next to the table and immediately transforms from a ballerina on stage to one of those daytime game show models who shows off the prizes. One hand flies up on her hip as she waves the other one in front of the medicine. And with a smile on her face and her voice all fancy again, she goes, "Naproxen?" As if perhaps it's some kind of new groundbreaking medicine for little annoying headaches.
I look at her, now giggling even louder. "You mean Aleve," I simplify.
"Yeah, pretty much," she shrugs, her demeanor and tone of voice back to normal. "But the doctor made it sound all fancy, so I figured I would, too."
I laugh as I swallow down the new, breakthrough drug "Naproxen," and then hand the cup back to her.
"Okay, so what time is it and where is everyone?" I ask.
"Well, your mom and my mom probably went down to the cafeteria for breakfast," she begins, setting the cup back on the tray and grabbing her phone, and what appears to be my phone, too. Not that I've really thought about it until now, but I figured my phone would presently be a twisted up pile of junk from the wreck.
Becca notices my confused expression as I look at my phone in her hand as she approaches. "Yep, somehow it survived," she smiles, handing it over to me. I flip it around a few times to inspect it, and seeing no damage at all, I nod, impressed.
"Sweet," I grin. Right away, I turn it on and see it's 7:24 a.m., and I also see a text from Bryson from 1:53 a.m., early this morning.
"Couldn't stand to see you in a hospital bed, I'm really sorry about all of this. Feel better princess, see you soon. XOXO"
My stomach immediately fills with butterflies just reading his text, and right away I hold the phone up to Becca so she can see. When she drags her gaze away from the screen of her phone to read it, she smiles, just like I did.
"That's really sweet," she says, looking at me as I pull the phone back and stare at the text some more.
"Yeah, he was so upset about everything. He wanted to come see you, but he couldn't," Becca says as she walks back around the bed and opens the window shades all the way, filling the room with sunlight.
I stare at the ground, struggling not to get upset as she walks back up to me.
"So, the 'real doctor' came back in last night," Becca begins, throwing her hands up in quotations and reminding me of the young, clueless doctor who came in last night and successfully convinced my family my brain was going to swell out of control like a California wildfire until it oozed out of my ears, nose, and mouth. This causes us both to giggle as she continues, "He showed us the test results and the MRI scans and said you were fine, so Bryson and his mom went home."
I nod again. "What about everyone else?"
"Same thing. After the doctor said you were okay, your dad took Hailey and Carson home, and my dad, Holly and her parents left. Holly got you this little bear from the gift shop." She retrieves a little pink bear from the couch and hands it to me. It's about the size of both my hands put together, and it's wearing a little white t-shirt that says "Get Well Soon" on it.
"That's cute," I smile.
"Yeah, and Bryson got a vase for your roses." She points to the table and grins.
I turn my head to look. "Yeah, I noticed that. I was wondering where the vase came from." Then all of a sudden my smile fades away as I'm looking at the roses. They instantly remind me of Bryson. But not the good things about him, like the Ferris wheel ride, and how amazing it felt when he effortlessly pulled me to him, and then wrapped his muscular arms around me, squeezing my body against his and gently pressing his lips to mine. Or how I literally tremble all over every time he touches me, or holds my hand, or even smiles at me. Under normal circumstances, these thoughts would be impossible to ignore. But the only thing these roses are allowing me to think about right now is the accident, and how Bryson has been affected by it.
I look back at Becca, who has noticed my sudden change in expression.
"You okay?" she asks.
I nod as I stare at the wa
Becca shakes her head. "No, he doesn't. I mean, he feels horrible about the whole situation, but I definitely don't think he blames himself."
I grin faintly. Even though I know Becca would say that no matter what, I force myself to agree. After a few seconds of silence, I feel compelled to change the subject.
"So, what's the deal with you and Brian?" I ask, looking up at her and grinning suggestively.
And just like in the past, my usually rough-and-tough BFF just smiles bashfully, shrugs, pushes a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear and says, "We're talking."
My smile grows considerably when she says that. As much as I just wanted to change the subject, I'm definitely dying to know what's going on with them, also. Especially since they texted the whole time we were all at the car show last night.
With the same bashful grin on her face, she fiddles with her phone for a second then hands it to me.
"Texts from last night?" I ask, peeking up at her.
"Yep."
As I scroll down, reading all the texts--there's probably about forty or fifty between the two of them--I read Brian telling Becca all about how tough his seven-month relationship with Emma was, and how hard it was for him to break up with her because he didn't want to hurt her, even though he didn't want to be with her. And I read Becca consoling him and carefully asking him questions about the relationship, and trying to make him feel better, and all that good stuff I'm pretty sure guys really appreciate. Then he asks her what she's doing and she tells him she's at the car show, and then they go on to talk about their interests in general and what they like to do for fun and blah blah blah, you get the point.
Then the texts quickly take a dark turn. There's only a few, but they're intense. Short texts from Becca, panicking, telling him of the accident. And him trying to console her, repeatedly asking if I'm okay.
I try to keep my smile intact as I quickly read them then hand the phone back to her. But like always, she sees through me.
"He was really worried about you," she says. Not really knowing what to say, and definitely not wanting to start talking or thinking about all of this again, I just look at her and gently smile and nod to show my appreciation. Then there's another few seconds of silence. But this time, Becca changes the subject.
"Geez, I wonder where the hell our moms are." She glances at the door.
I look that way, as well. "Probably chatting each other's ears off. Especially if my mom told her about my genius."
Becca stiffens up. "You think she did?"
"Possibly," I shrug. "I guess we'll know when they come back in."
"So, I mean, it's still something you wanna do?" Becca asks nervously.
I stare straight ahead for a second in thought, but not because I'm trying to decide whether or not to reveal my genius. I'm already one hundred percent certain I want to do that. I'm just hoping Becca still feels the same way about the whole situation. Last night when she said she was fine with it, the accident was still fresh on her mind, and she was an emotional wreck. She hadn't even stopped crying completely. I'm pretty sure she would have agreed to mug an old lady and rob a bank with me if I'd asked her to at that point. She was just glad to see I was okay. But now that she's had some time for the idea to sink in, I'm hoping she hasn't changed her mind.
"Yeah, I do want to. Only if you're still okay with it, though," I say, looking back up at her.
And just like last night, she simply smiles and says, "I'm okay with it. I'm a little worried, but I'm behind you all the way, girlie. I think we'll be fine." I can see an unsure confidence in her eyes, if that makes sense.
I understand her concern, because I feel the same way; revealing my genius is a huge step. Ever since Becca and I were little, we vowed to protect this secret with our lives, fearing that if it was discovered, I would be forced by my parents or whoever to skip ahead in life, leaving her behind. Whether or not this was a legitimate fear, it completely consumed us and as the years rolled by, it never subsided.
"As long as you didn't have any dreams about it," Becca adds, narrowing her eyes at me, trying to examine my immediate reaction.
But I just laugh. "No, no nightmares about revealing my genius, I swear."
"Okay, good," she rolls her eyes in relief. "Then let's do this."
Suddenly, we hear the door handle turn, and we both look over to see our moms practically tiptoeing in the room, slowly peeking around the wall like a couple of overgrown cats, scanning the room for humans so they can judge us, then decide if we're good enough to be in their presence.
"Hey, there," my mom says softly, followed by Mrs. Anna.
"Hey, Dori." Then they both straighten up and walk toward us.
"Hey," I reply to both of them with a smile.
As they approach, I try not to be obvious as I keep a close eye on Mrs. Anna, which isn't turning out to be all that easy since her eyes are glued to me. I repeatedly glance at her, nervously looking for any signs or clues at all that she may have been let in on my secret. I've known this woman since the day I was born, and she could possibly be looking at me in a whole new light right now. It's definitely a lot more awkward than I thought it would be. But unless she's hiding it well, she doesn't appear to know.
My mom walks around the bed to stand next to Becca while Mrs. Anna stops on the other side.
"How are you feeling?" my mom asks, rubbing my forehead then leaning over to kiss it.
"I feel good. I took some Aleve for my headache, but other than that I feel really good."
Then Mrs. Anna leans over to hug me. "Hey, sweetie. I'm so sorry this happened to you," she says, squeezing me tight. "Mr. Brett sends his love. He had some work to do from home today," she adds, standing back up.
I smile in appreciation. "Well, I'm really glad y'all came."
"Of course, sweetie. Mr. Brett left after the test results came in last night and he knew you were okay."
"Yeah," Mom chimes in with a chuckle. "After the real doctor came back in with your MRI scans."
Mrs. Anna laughs when my mom says that and right away, I'm back to assuming she knows my secret. You see, my mom is a master storyteller. She'll cover every inch of a story twice. To give you an example: over the years, Carson and I have heard my mom and dad's honeymoon story six times. Four of those times, my dad had to abruptly stop her when she got to the part about their extracurricular activities on the beach after the sun went down. The other two times, when Dad wasn't around, we stuck our fingers in our ears when she got to that part--like Dad told us to--and she just kept right on talking.
So due to her disturbing and inappropriate, yet thorough, storytelling, I seriously doubt she was able to tell Mrs. Anna about the 'real doctor' episode without elaborating on the fact that I corrected the young doctor and put my family's mind at ease.
I look over at Becca. She knows my mom as well as I do--she was even around for one of the honeymoon stories--and I can tell she's thinking the exact same thing when she looks at me and nervously widens her eyes.
But once again, Mrs. Anna doesn't say a word about it, and I'm definitely content with that. Even though it doesn't really matter if she knows, because everyone will know soon, it's still extremely nerve-wracking.
"That's unbelievable that they would employ someone like that," Mrs. Anna says.
I stare at her as I laugh along, waiting anxiously, certain she's about to look at me and blurt it out. But she never does.
"He was an idiot," Becca mutters, throwing her phone up to her face as she backs up and plops down on the couch.
Then my mom's laugh dies down considerably. "Yeah, he definitely gave us all a scare" - she pauses to look down at me as she reflects- "but luckily he was wrong."
She continues to look at me, as if she's trying not to get upset, but she snaps out of it right away.
"So, I bet you're ready to go home, huh?" she asks brightly, wide-eyed and smiling again.
My eyes grow wide with excitement along with hers. "Definitely!" I exclaim, welcoming the subject change. "Going home sounds fantastic."