Continuum

V.

I stare up at the ceiling and try not to think about the ache that the fluid in my intravenous line is working to get rid of. It's so quiet in here that I can distinguish the soft beeps of every machine that is attached to me. My phone is on the little desk between the chairs Aspen and Nolan were sitting in earlier. I guess when the nurse gets here with my sludge, I'll ask her to grab it for me. I wait in silence, thinking back on my recurring dreams starring the man whose face I can never make out upon waking up. It wouldn't bother me if I didn't keep dreaming about the same man. My attention is grabbed by the distinct sound of my phone vibrating from a call. Even if I did attempt to get up and answer it, I wouldn't make it in time because of all these cords and tubes. Whoever it is can probably wait anyway.

"Knock, knock, you awake Sabina?" A soft feminine voice wafts into the room but I don't budge because she doesn't have anything exciting for me. My nurse rolls in with a cart that has a bunch of covered food trays on them, taking one off and placing it on the table attached to my bedside.

"Please try to eat, okay? Eating and staying hydrated will help you get better. If you need anything you can press the call button." I look away from the ceiling and over at her, cringing at her choice in colored monkey-printed scrubs. She's dressed like she works in pediatrics, and that coupled with this childish treatment doesn't make me feel my age at all.

"Before you go, do you mind grabbing my phone? If anything is going to kill me, I'd rather it be this food," I murmur. My nurse bats her ridiculously long eyelashes and smirks to refrain from saying something snide most likely. Opting out of saying anything at all, she silently goes to do as I asked.

She places my phone on the table with the tray of food and turns to leave the room, her ponytail swaying behind her. I shrug and wait until her footsteps are out of earshot to peek at the food. I lift the cover enough to catch a whiff of the sludge and lower it right back down. It smells edible enough, but I won't do it. I'd rather starve until I'm out of this place. Making up my mind not to do anything with the food, I check my phone for the time and who it was that called me. It's a little past 7 in the evening, and it was Nolan. He sent a follow-up text that said: 'I'm sure your service is trash in there but call me.'

What could he possibly want to talk about? I sigh, pressing his contact and putting the phone on speaker. He picks up after only two rings.

"Service is manageable after all, huh?" he answers.

I shrug as if he can see me. "For a hospital, I can't complain. What do you want? I'm not supposed to be on my phone."

"I'm still in the neighborhood, I can bring you some grub. What are you hungry for?" The question throws me off. That's the last thing I was expecting him to say. I didn't think he would remember that I'd rather starve than eat hospital food, let alone offer to bring me an alternative.

"Uh...I don't know what's around here," I say, unsure if I should take this offer seriously or if he's just rubbing in the fact that I'm stuck in here for two nights. He tells me there's Waffle House, Domino's, Chipotle, a sushi restaurant and a hot wing store. I choose Chipotle since that will fill me up and satisfy my craving for something substantial.

"I'll text you what I usually get in my bowl," I say, my mouth watering at the thought of good food.

"No need. Chicken, brown rice, black beans, corn, lettuce, sour cream, extra cheese, guacamole and chips on the side." I'm once again rendered speechless. We don't go there often enough for him to have remembered what I always order that well. "You're consistent. Be there in twenty," he adds before hanging up the phone.

I decide not to think about when he's been able to study my actions long enough to figure out what I always get. Instead, I close my eyes since I have a slight headache and try to manage a quick nap. I don't get to fall asleep because Nolan comes with my food in not twenty minutes, but ten. He strolls in through the door with my backpack slung over his shoulder. After pulling a chair closer to me he plops into it, kicking off his boots and tossing his sock clad feet up on the edge of my bed.