I’m in a coma.
I know that because the nurses keep saying it like I’m not here to hear them.
Apparently, I am.
There’s a guy named Steve who works nights. Nurse Steve. He’s been dumped by the same girlfriend three times since I’ve been here. I’d like to tell him to stop answering the phone, but at the moment, I don’t have a lot of options. As far as I can tell, the only thing that still works are my ears.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I don’t remember the fall. Just pieces. A ladder. Metal under my hands. Then nothing.
From what I’ve picked up between listening to Steve’s love life fall apart, I made it about a week on my first ship in the Navy before I went twenty feet in the wrong direction.
That’s not a great start.
My mom comes in a lot. At first, she cried the whole time. Now she mostly sits. Talks to me like I might answer. She used to speak Spanish when she was upset. That’s her first language. Lately, she’s been sticking to English. I think that’s for me.
My dad comes in less. When he does, he stands at the end of the bed like he’s inspecting something that failed.
Twenty-six years Navy. Master Chief. He goes back and forth between being worried and being pissed off. I’m pretty sure my mom is in the room when he sounds worried.
There’s another voice I don’t recognize. Didn’t notice him at first. Just kind of… showed up. Calls himself Bob. No last name.
He talks about the weather, seeds, wind patterns. Stuff that doesn’t make any sense in a hospital room. And then, every so often, like it’s his job—you suck
He says it like he means it.
Honestly, I’d ask him who the hell he is, but I’m still working on blinking.
Believe it or not, you can get bored in a coma. I didn’t think that would be possible, but here we are. Everything goes quiet sometimes. No Steve. No machines. No Bob. Just… nothing.
I think I sleep. Or maybe I just stop noticing. Either way, it’s the closest thing I get to a break.
You’re still here. Good. Because I think I figured out who Bob is.
The first time he asked me a question, I answered him. Not out loud. Just… thought it. He answered back. So now we’re communicating.
I hadn’t heard from him in a few days. Then, out of nowhere—
Hey kid. How you been?
I’m good, I said in my head voice. Just breathing with the help of this ventilator and staring at the back of my eyelids like it’s my job.
I thought that was funny. Bob didn’t.
Where’d you go? I asked. You were gone a while.
My wife hatched twins, he said. Had to stick around. They don’t feed themselves.
Your wife didn’t hatch anything, I said. And she definitely didn’t do it alone.
There was a pause. Then—
I know you think I’m joking, he said. But I’m a pigeon. My wife is a pigeon.
Another pause.
Man… you suck.
I tried to turn toward his voice. Couldn’t. Of course. So, I stayed where I was and kept going.
If you’re a pigeon, I said, how old are you?
Four.
What’s your wife’s name?
He made a cooing sound. Then, in English—It’s in pigeon. She doesn’t have a human name. Unlike me, she’s not stupid enough to talk to people in comas.
Then who named you Bob?
I did, he said. Heard it in a parking lot once. Sounded official. My real name is co, coo, co, cooooooo… the third.
I laughed in my head. The third? If you’re a pigeon, you don’t get to be ‘the third.’
That was me messing with you, he said. Just call me Bob. You never told me your name.
I’m Tito Schultz.
That’s quite a mix. Like a sauerkraut taco.
That’s not very nice, I said. My mom is Mexican. My dad’s German-American. But they’ve been in the U.S. for like ten generations, so… not exactly fresh off the boat.
Doesn’t sound like you’re that close to your Mexican side either, Bob said. I’ve never heard you answer your mom in Spanish.
I hesitated.
No, I said. I can’t. It’s… a little embarrassing. I can’t even talk to my cousins.
Bob made a soft cooing sound. Then—Soy una paloma y hasta yo hablo un poco de español… eres un asco.
What did you just say?
I said I’m a pigeon, and even I can speak a little Spanish… you suck.
Why do you keep saying ‘you suck’?
I didn’t know sighs could be sent telepathically, but Bob managed.
The reason I’m here is because I was roosting on the ship the day you fell. I saw the whole thing.
I heard his wings rustle. It was your fault. You didn’t clip on the ladder properly and you were goofing off with the other sailor kid. ‘Look ma, no hands’ are some pretty lame last words…so you suck.
I don’t remember saying that.
Of course you don’t. You just about introduced your brains to the atmosphere when you landed. If your hand hadn’t grabbed the rung about eight feet off the ground, you would have hit your head a lot harder.
The fact that your mom is Mexican and you can’t speak a word of Spanish… you suck.
You seem to be extremely opinionated. How’d you get so smart?
I’m a reader. When I’m not feeding the brood, or talking to you. I find something to read.
Oh really? What’s your favorite book.
Right now, I’m partial to Of Mice and Men. I feel like I’m George and you’re Lenny.
Hey, I read that book in high school. You’re really pissing me off!
It’s then I felt my hand clench into a fist. My eyes began to flutter open. They were blurry for a few minutes.
I could hear Bob cheering me on.
That’s right, Lenny. Open your eyes. Look over here.
My vision cleared. My head didn’t want to move just yet, but my eyes found him.
Sitting on the ledge just outside my window, waving a single wing, was a pigeon… Bob.
Next Chapter: Discharge and Delusions
Tito is recuperating and Bob helps in his own unique way.
What do you think of Bob?