Through the Windshield Glass by Kristen Day Page A

my
already weak body she just let me cry myself dry.
    Finally, I
hiccupped back another sob and sat up straight. I looked at the nurse's scrubs,
evidence of my tears were obvious there.
    "I'm
sorry," I said through a stuffy nose.
    "It's
nothing," the nurse said, with a smile, "What would you have named
it?"
    I thought about
it for a minute, I brushed a few stray tears away from my face, "If it
were a boy, I would have named him Daman, after his father, if it were a girl,
Jane, I think."
    "Those are
beautiful," the nurse said, "I'm Katelyn, if you need anything, just
hit the nurse's button."
    "Thank
you," I murmured. Katelyn left.
    I felt
completely empty, drained of all emotion, "Is this enough yet,
James?" I asked.
    In answer, the
door of my room slowly changed. It went from blue, plain metal, to a familiar
black door; one proclaiming itself to be full of woe.
    I smiled;
finally, I had done what I had to do.
    I ripped the
tubes out of my arm, swung my legs out of the hospital bed and crossed to the
door. I took one last deep breath of clean air, before opening the door and
stepping through.
    　
    　
     
     

Chapter Fifteen
     
    I expected
James to be waiting for me in the hall; he wasn’t. I expected to feel better; I
didn’t. I sighed and took inventory of myself. I still felt empty, I could
still feel the phantom pains of my surgery even though my body was completely
healed, my heart still ached for the little one I had lost. Again, I was struck
with how real everything felt, no nightmare had ever felt so claustrophobic.
    I stepped
across the hall, away from the empty wall where the ‘Misery’ door had once been
situated. I reached my hand out and closed it around the doorknob of the door
labeled ’Joy’. It didn’t give way.
    Angrily, I
kicked out at the wall, I expected pain, but since I barely even existed, there
was nothing. It gave me an idea. I walked calmly to one end of the hall, and
stared at the other end. I let out a barbarian yell and ran headlong for the
other wall. I flew down the hall and crashed into the other end. I didn't even
make a tiny dent in the wall. I became even angrier.
    I started
punching, kicking, slapping and screaming like a banshee at the wall, letting
out all my anger on the tauntingly perfect paint. Why was I here? I thought
death was supposed to be the reward for living! What had I done to deserve to
be stuck in such a Hellish place? I screamed again, not just one frustrated scream,
but I screamed until I got bored.
    I sprawled out
on the floor and threw a temper tantrum. I banged my fists, yanked on my hair
and cursed everything I could think of. I professed hatred to the man who was
driving the car that killed me, hatred for Maria killing herself, hatred at the
paramedics who failed to save my life, and mostly hatred for James. I hated him
so much at that moment I could barely comprehend my own feelings. How could he
not be there to help me when I needed him most?
    Finally I calmed
down, I felt myself returning to the reclusive state I stayed in for the year
after my death. The corner I had sat in was looking more and more inviting,
even comfortable. I crawled to the corner drew my knees up to my chest and
stared blankly at the night end of the hall until the room was completely dark.
And I continued to stare, I didn’t blink, I didn’t even move, I just sat and
tried not to think.
    When light
filtered back into the room I realized I was no longer dressed in anything I
recognized from my burial or the doors.
    Now, I was
wearing something that reflected everything I had been through since death. A
kind of quilt of clothing. I was no longer constrained by the skirt and blouse
I’d been entombed in. Instead, I was wearing jeans, a soft tee shirt and my
favorite black canvas sneakers. I was also wearing an old air force jacket,
embroidered on the left side in red cursive was Daman's name. Also emblazoned
there was a tiny broken heart. I still wore the wedding ring which I assumed