I took the bike.
It's a vintage 1970's Honda motorcycle with a wide silver gas tank and a long silver tail muffler. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, but the engine roared to life on the first try and the speedometer was already set to 90. I took off with a jolt, the gears shifting smoothly as I took a left on Magnolia.
As I reached the main road, a car violently pulled into the bike's path. I jerked the handlebars sharply and was thrown into the air with the bike landing on top of me and skidding across the asphalt. I felt the blood pooling in my head and struggle to move. I tried to lift the bike off me but my arms were bound in something that let me move only my elbows and feet.
I heard sounds of people shouting and a pair of strong hands picked me by my elbows and pulled me up. But I could barely move and stumbled forward. Everyone was shouting and running in the street.
My eyes were barely open. I was dazed and confused as the hands lifted me, coughing and convulsing. I landed in a strange bed and gave a violent jerk as I rolled all the way over. The glimpse of familiar face was a blur of sweat and pain before I blacked out.
I woke up to the sound of electric shocks and screaming. I was lying on my back on the bed in the same unfamiliar room. I looked around and saw a bright white light above me. A woman in a blue suit was shaking my shoulders. My eyes were still fuzzy as I tried to focus on her.
"Oh Dottie, wake up. Please. Please," she said to me frantically, while cupping my face in her hands. She could barely hold back her own tears.
"Jareth," I said, dazedly, and then coughed, "Where am I?"
"Please. You're safe. You're safe now. Please wake up," she repeated, hugging me tightly.
My vision became a little clearer and I finally got a good look at her. She was young, maybe 25, with short brown hair and comforting dark brown eyes. She was wearing a white blouse tucked into a tight black pencil skirt with high black flats.
"Michelle?" I asked, finally noticing her.
"Yes, Dottie. It's me," she whispered. She hugged me close and pet my head.
"T-where am I?" I asked a little more clearly.
"You're in the hospital. In the emergency room. You've been out for hours but you have to stay still and rest. The police are here to talk to you. They'll be back later the next," she said, anxiously.
I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Michelle was looking at me, with that same concerned look I was getting used to on her face.
"Why? Where? I don't remember anything. I'm so tired and I can't …" I started to say but she hugged me tighter.
"You were found unconscious on your bike on Magnolia Avenue. They rushed you to Detroit General just as I was arriving to work. I just met you before. I'm so scared that you won't be okay," she said, quietly.
"I'm going to be fine. I always am," I said, preemptively.
"Do you remember who brought you in this time?"
"Who? I don't remember."
"I've been with you for the last few days, Dottie. You've had a stroke."
I tried to piece the puzzle together in my mind. What I thought I remembered didn't add up. I had a headache from the seizure and the burns on my face and hands that I couldn't even feel in my drowsy state.
"What time is it?" I asked, slowly.
"Two in the morning. You've been out for six hours. You don't remember anything, but sometimes it still takes a while," she said.
"Six hours?" I asked, but was already slipping into another sleep.
"Don't worry about anything. I'll be here waiting," Michelle said, grabbing my hand.
I closed my eyes and let her pull me back under.
I was sitting up on the chair Michelle was holding me in, bleary-eyed and weary. She was fixing the white stripe in my hair every day while I was back in the hospital. It was the same white plastic chair in the same place Michelle had sat in the last few days. Every morning before I was taken back to my room, Michelle would stand up from the chair and let the security guard behind the one-way mirror look in on me. The guard always nodded at her gravely and shut the door behind her. I made a mental note to thank Michelle for bringing me here and making me comfortable every time I got the chance.
The panic and fear I felt on her face as she first spoke to me on the phone faded as the days passed. She just brought me mostly meals and desserts when I was awake. Every now and then she'd stop crying, and I'd feed her some chocolate before we both fell asleep in our respective chairs. Sometimes she would tell me about her job at the advertising agency – a miraculous story about how she saved a client who was about to go under with a last-minute marketing campaign.
I even remember a time when a dragonfly landed on the screened window and the sunlight followed after it, sneaking in through the window and landing in my lap. It felt like I was a little girl again, back in my mother's pool house in the Hamptons. But that girl was really long gone – she was a distant fantasy of who I'd thought I would be someday.
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