Чарльз Кроуфорд - Three-Legged Race

The room was empty and the bed stripped. All the cards and books and crayons had been removed from the room. All the things which made the room his were gone.

He had left without saying good-bye to her.

Amy continued down the hall toward the pediatrics playroom. It was filled with blocks and dolls and trucks and had bright animal posters on all the walls. There were never too many children there, though, since most of them couldn't leave their beds for roughhouse or play. Usually by the time they were well enough to go to the playroom, they were well enough to go home.

The walk down the hallway had made Amy tired, and when she reached the playroom, she sat down in an easy chair. The room was empty. The sun streamed through the windows and the bright posters made the room look cheerful. It was better than the other sun-room. It shouldn't be so quiet, though. It looked like a place that needed noise.

Amy looked up when she heard the soft slow sound of rubber wheels and saw a small child sitting in a wheelchair in the doorway. The boy looked to be about seven. Amy smiled at him but he didn't smile back.

"Why don't you come on over here by me and talk," Amy offered.

He didn't move from the doorway.

"Come on. I won't bite. I'll play a game with you."

The boy rotated the wheels of the chair and maneuvered the chair until he stopped next to where Amy was sitting.

"That's better," she said. "I'm Amy. What do folks call you?"

"Zero."

"That's an interesting name. Why does everybody call you Zero?"

"I don't know. It's my name."

"Do you like it here?"

"No."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm sick."

"Are you going to be in the hospital for a very long time?"

"No. I'm going home soon, my mother says."

"That's nice. I bet you miss your home."

"Yeah. I do."

"Would you like to play a game?"

"No. I don't know any games."

"I can teach you one."

"No. I don't want to learn any games."

"Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"If you want."

"Good. I like to tell little boys stories. What kind of a story would you like to hear?"

"I don't know. A scary one."

"Okay. I'll just make one up for you. Let's see. It should begin like this, since all stories begin like this: Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She lived in a pretty house with her mother and her father. She was very happy there."

So Amy told Zero a story that she made up as she went along. She told how the little girl found a door to a strange white room hidden behind the attic stairs and how she went into the room, but couldn't get out no matter how hard she tried.

When Amy had finished, Zero said, "That's a sad story. Will you tell me another story sometime? I like stories about animals too."

"Sure, when I see you again, I'll tell you another story."

Zero turned his wheelchair around and moved toward the door.

"Thanks for the story," he said and left the playroom.

Amy sat for a while longer and let her eyes roam along the walls of the room, looking at the animal posters again, the streaks of sunlight coming through the flowered curtains against the stark white walls.

Soon she gathered her strength and began to walk back to her room in the youth wing. She felt aches and small pains inside her and was weaker than she had been for days. She planned on lying down, maybe taking a nap before lunch. Maybe it would help.

Outside her room she ran into the blood lady wheeling her cart. The blood samples were lined up in labeled test tubes.

"Well, there you are, Amy. Just the person I was looking for. I'm afraid I've got to steal a little more blood from you today."

"Okay, Lady Vampire," Amy said with a smile. "You're welcome to any you can find, but there couldn't be more than a couple of tablespoons left, with you at me every day."

"Let's go into your room so you can lie down while I take my sample. We wouldn't want you crashing down in the hallway."

"What's it for this time?" Amy asked.

"Just to keep tabs on various levels of things. Your doctors can explain it to you if you want. I'm just the plumber around here."

Amy walked through the doorway into her room. The blood cart rumbled in behind her, the glass test tubes clinking against each other.

Amy's room was filled with plants. They hung in pots by the window. They stood on stands by the sink. The room was a jungle. Asparagas ferns festooned, begonias tumbled, philodendrons sprouted everywhere.

"I always love coming to your room, Amy," the blood lady remarked. "It's like a florist's shop. You certainly have a green thumb. Every single one seems to have grown since you've been here."

"I love plants," Amy said. "I've got a greenhouse at home. You have to talk sweetly to them. Taking care of them here gives me something to do."

"Well, they certainly are beautiful. It brightens up these blank white walls so. Anything green I touch dies immediately. I envy you."

"That's because you have a red thumb," Amy said with a laugh.

Amy lay down on her bed. The nurse took her left arm and wrapped the rubber tube around it, just above the elbow. Amy clenched her fist and saw the veins tracing like rivers down her arm.

The nurse swabbed Amy's forearm with alcohol and sank the needle into the skin. Amy always watched. Each day her eyes would be drawn to look and see the dark red fluid slowly fill the cavity of the syringe.

The nurse removed the hypodermic, capped it, placed a cotton ball on the small hole in Amy's arm and unwrapped the rubber hose.

"Thanks a lot," the nurse said. "I'll be by again tomorrow."

"Thanks. I'll mark it on my calendar. I wouldn't miss your visits for the world. See you later."

"'Bye now. Take care."

The nurse wheeled her cart out of the door and disappeared down the hall in a soft tinkling sound of clinking test tubes. It sounded like wind chimes.

Amy climbed out of bed and crossed the hall to Brent and Kirk's room. They were in their beds, Kirk drinking the Coke that Jewel had delivered.

"Hi," Amy said. "I thought I'd check in before my morning nap to see how you were coming along, Brent."

"Pretty good, thanks," Brent said. "I finally got another pain shot from Nurse Rush a few minutes ago and I feel a lot better."

Amy smiled at him and he tried to smile back. Brent liked her smile. It was so open and friendly.

Amy patted his leg beneath the white sheet. "Good, I'm glad you're feeling better. Kirk treating you all right? He's kind of a bear, you know. You just can't take him seriously is all."

"A bear, huh?" Kirk said. "I'd love to catch you bare."

Amy laughed and her brown hair swung around her head. "You just try," she said. "I'm still faster than you are on crutches, you dirty old man. See what I mean, Brent? He's all talk and no action. Underneath that tough shell, there beats the heart of a lamb. Or a black sheep, anyway."

It sounds so easy, Brent thought. You just say funny things and you're friends and they make it look so easy.

As if she understood, Amy said, "Soon as that pain gets better, Brent, we'll have you joking away with the best of us. Just remember, none of us is going anywhere for a while. We're all good friends here."

"Except Nurse Rush," Kirk said.

"Except Nurse Rush," Amy said. "Hey, good news, you guys. Speaking of nurses, the blood lady was just by for the day, and despite rumors to the contrary, I do have a little blood still left in me. My heart still beats. What do you think of that?"

"Congratulations," Kirk said. "You're still among the living. I wish I qualified."

"Every day I'm surprised there's any blood left. And after that bleeding I had before I came in here, I figured I must be about empty."

"What happened?" Brent asked.