My toenails were painted black.
The sheets on the hospital bed were rough against my bare legs, and the blanket the nurse had given me was even rougher. My foot poked out of the blanket, and all I could stare at were my toes.
My toenails were painted black.
They told me I had been in a car accident. My car had flipped over many times, and it was dumb luck that I was alive. I didn’t remember much of the accident, but I could definitely feel all of the bones I had broken. I remember driving, and another car speeding towards me, and then nothing. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm.
My toenails were painted black.
It just didn’t make sense. I hated the color black, and I didn’t even remember painting my toes, let alone the color black.
The door to my room suddenly opened -
“Are you okay?”
I relaxed a bit, knowing that my husband was here. I gave him a small smile and a shrug. “Happy to be alive.”
He was staring at me - at my injuries, trying to see if I was lying or not.
“I had a meeting with a client in the city when I got the call from the hospital, that’s why I’m so late. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been having the time of my life here.” My husband gave a small, choked laugh and sat down in the chair next to my bed.
He was staring at me. Scanning the length of my body, utterly shocked that I was alive. Looks like we also have that in common.
“Do you remember anything from the accident?” He asked.
“Nope. I remember driving, and then nothing.” I felt disappointed that I didn’t have more to offer anyone.
“No white light or anything?”
I gave a snort. “This isn’t a movie. I wasn’t sitting in a waiting room deciding whether or not to come back to life.”
He had a small smile on his face. “Not everyday you get to talk to someone who had a near death experience.”
“Let’s hope I’m the only person you know that almost died.”
There was a question that was nagging at me, that I so badly wanted to ask. “What client were you meeting with today?” My husband was a third grade teacher, what kind of a client would he have needed to meet?
A frown immediately appeared. “The new client interested in our firm? He needed representation for the lawsuit? I told you this last week, do you not remember?”
My heart stopped. I didn’t know what to say, and I was afraid of being trapped in the hospital for longer than I already was. I gave him a laugh, and hoped that was enough to dissuade him. “Jokes. I thought you needed a good laugh. Amnesia and broken bones are a wicked combination.”
I could tell he didn’t believe me, but thankfully, he let it go. I also had another question, and I was scared of his response, but I needed to ask this too.
“Oh, also, if you’re here, where’s Daisy?” Daisy was our daughter, and I was immediately filled with concern over who was watching her if both my husband and I were sitting here.
“She’s with your parents. Totally safe and missing you. They send their love by the way.”
I relaxed a bit. Daisy loved her grandparents. But I was ready to get out of the hospital.
My husband could sense my restlessness to get out of the hospital, and he gave another smile. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I think I might have a concussion. I’m debating going back to the hospital and asking the doctor who examined me for a refund. We made it home a few minutes ago, and I just feel off. Kind of like looking at yourself in a funhouse mirror. Everything seemed right, but it was just slightly off. The carpet was too soft, and the walls were the wrong shade of gray. Even down to the smell of our living room.
I flinched at the sound of the doorbell. I could see my mom through the window. At least she looked the same.
I opened the door, and she gave me the biggest hug. She was crying, and then I was crying. It was nice to be alive.
I couldn’t wait any longer. “Is Daisy with you?”
My mom gave a small laugh and then pointed through the door. “She is safe and sound, as promised.”
There my dad was, walking towards me, holding a small dog. White, small, and fluffy - cute, but not my daughter.
This was getting too strange for me.
My dad gave me a hug and held up the dog, waving its little paw. “Look who missed you! Say ‘hi’, Daisy.”
I could feel the meal I had at the hospital coming back up. Suddenly, feeling extremely nauseated, I excused myself and sprinted upstairs. I threw the door open to what should have been Daisy’s nursery and instead found a home office, without a trace that my daughter had lived there. I tore apart room after room, searching for some proof that my daughter had existed, but I could find nothing.
In my closet, I ripped apart boxes of boxes before I remembered that I had a folder where I kept important documents for my husband and me. Nestled deep in the folder was a hospital stay bill with my name and the big, glaring word “MISCARRIAGE.” Also in the folder was an adoption certificate for a dog named Daisy, dated mere months after the supposed hospital visit.
I sank to the floor with the sickening realization that this was not my life. Something had changed after the car accident. Like everyone was in on some sick, practical joke, and this was the spectacular punchline. I knew that there was only one thing to do.
I had grabbed my husband’s spare car keys from the bedroom, took the back door out of the house, and I’m now sitting in his car that I just parked on a random street.
I’m sharing this story with you all as proof that this really happened.
This is not my life, and I can’t stay here. It’s just not right. I’m going to stop this the only way I know how - by going back to the beginning.
Goodbye, I’m going to get my life back.