Home Again

There is no wheelchair for at the apartment like there was at the hospital, so the trip upstairs is exhausting. Emily is gracious, stopping to give you a chance to catch your breath, letting you lean on her when you need it. It’s a good thing you aren’t a big man; your slight frame gives Emily the chance to support you as you walk.

The elevator slides open. Living on the eleventh floor, Emily and your Aunt Katy are close enough to the elevator that you can walk to the door unassisted, something that makes you feel proud. When Emily opens the apartment for you, a familiar smell hits you, the smell of home, despite you never having visited this apartment before. That doesn’t matter, though. You are just so glad to be away from the hospital.

“Let’s get you settled. You’ll probably need a lie down,” Emily says, offering her arm for support, which you once again take.

She indicates the location the washroom and kitchen, although the apartment is small enough that you could have deduced those alone. Then she brings you to the master bedroom, Aunt Katy’s room. A queen-sized bed inhabits the centre of the space, it’s headboard inches from the wall. You smile, wondering if she pulled the bed out so that she didn’t wake Emily if she had company over. flanked by two wooden end tables. On one wall are two windows that give a great view of the city, on another a closet that takes up the entire wall. The last wall holds a dresser.

Beside the bed is what remains of your suitcase. It is smashed, held together by duct tape.

“Once the investigation was over, the police dropped it off,” Emily says, “I didn’t have the heart to go through it and see what is left. Maybe that can be a project for tomorrow.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” you say, sitting down on the bed, kicking off your shoes, then falling back onto the soft pillows. The felling of the bed is like the embrace of a lover, warm, enticing, intoxicating. Hospitals are a place to heal, but never a place for a good rest. “You’re right,” you say through a yawn, “I’ll have more energy after a good night’s sleep.”

“Then I’ll let you relax a bit. Would you like anything to eat before you fell asleep?”

Her question, however, arrives too late. The only answer you provide is a soft snore as you drift away.