Connection to Katy

It is another week before you can visit your Aunt Katy's bedside, but it took some assistance. The pain is minimal, you are well wrapped around your ribs, but your legs feel weak and your head spins as you try to stand. Soon enough the nurses have you in a wheelchair and are pushing you to the next room.

"Alex!" you hear your name spoken by your aunt's familiar voice, "I'm so glad to see you!"

She is sitting up in her bed, pillows behind her back, both legs suspended in long plaster casts, reading a National Geographic magazine. You recognize the issue. The nurses had brought it to you the day before, but you found you couldn't **** yourself to be interested as you flipped through it. At the time you had found it strange; National Geographic was always your favourite publication. That issue, especially, should have fascinated you, since it featured the new Mars rovers, a topic that you obsessed over.

Instead, though, you threw it back on the pile and picked up a gossip magazine. Maybe your brain wasn't healed enough to handle anything heavier.

"You too," you smile at your aunt, "Looks like you're a little worse for wear."

"Oh these?" Katy grimaces, "They told me eight-to-twelve weeks before they can come off. So much for a good summer. How about you?"

"That sucks," you agree, "The doctor told me that I'll most likely be discharged tomorrow, but that I can't travel. I'm going to need to be monitored because of the concussion. Check-ups and stuff."

"Well don't worry about anything. You can stay at our place. I'll make sure that Emily knows and gets my room ready for you. I'll be here for a while, so I won't be using it."

"Are you sure? That's very generous of you!"

"Of course!" she said with a grin, "just make sure you come and visit. If it wasn't for these great magazines I'd be bored to **** in here!"

"I never took you for a National Geographic kind of person," you say, noticing the stack of issues on her nightstand.

"I never was," she says, "but for some reason I can't get enough of them! Did you know that the new Mars rover also had a little helicopter on board? It's supposed to..."

Your aunt continues, but you zone out. It's as if the part of your brain that cared about that kind of stuff has been removed. Maybe it's the concussion. Maybe it's something else.

"...sustained flight!" she concludes excitedly.

"Aunt Katy," you say quietly, wheeling yourself closer to her bed, "after we crashed, do you remember anything?"

"You mean in the ambulance?" she responds cautiously.

"No, I mean before that," you say, unsure how to describe what you remember, "after the crash, but before the ambulance. I'm think something happened. It was like..."

"Like floating?" she cuts you off, "like a peaceful, I don't know..."

"Yeah!" you say, excitedly, "It's so hazy, but I remember looking down at the wreck, and I remember you, but everything else is like trying to see through a fog."

"I was wondering if I was going crazy!" Katy said, putting down her magazine, "I wonder if it was one of those near-****-experiences. things."

"Whatever it was," you respond, "I think we're lucky to be alive."

"Oh Alex," she says with a smile, "If I could get out of this bed I'd give you the biggest hug."

You smile back. Katy has always been your favourite aunt, but now the connection you felt with her was much deeper. It is profound, like you share something that nobody else could possibly understand.

"Mister Alexander?" the nurse who had wheeled you in pops into the room, "I'm sorry to cut the visit short, but the doctor has asked for one more round of tests before you're discharged."

"Work work work!" You say, causing you both to laugh, "I'll stop by before I leave if they let me. Otherwise I'll make sure to visit tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that," your aunt says playfully, again picking up her magazine, "And bring me more reading material! And maybe a crossword book!"

You agree to it, remembering that crosswords have always been one of your favourite pastimes, another thing you must share with your aunt. Although, now that you think of it, nothing in you wants to sit down and work out the answers to one of the word puzzles. Strange.

"I love your nails," you say to the nurse as she wheels you out, noticing her hands on your wheelchair, "acrylic?"