San Jose, California, March 9, 12:00 p.m. PST.
I tried to sit up in my bed, expecting to be soaked with sweat and have the acrid taste of fear in my mouth, but all I felt was peace. There was a lingering pink sound in my mind. Shhh, peace…
When I opened my eyes, I realized I was in a hospital, and the world looked familiar again. Machines beeped and whirred nearby. I could not move my head, but I sensed my mom sitting next to my bed. She stared at me with so much worry on her face, that it broke my heart. I tried to say something light like, “Hey, Mom, how ya doing?” but all that came out was a hoarse croak.
She leaped to her feet, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Baby! My baby, Mama is here!” She blanketed my face with kisses, tears, and snot. I tried to move my head away and tell her to stop, but it would not move.
“Shh! Shh! Be still, the nurses and doctors are on their way. Don’t move. They’re worried you have a spinal injury.” That stopped me. I moved my fingers and relief washed over me. I tried to lift my arm, and it did not move. A bottomless panic swept over me with blinding irrationality.
“Mom, what happened?” I heard the panic in my own voice. I’m sure she heard it as well.
“Well, Baby, they’re not sure. They think your opponent may have hit you just right to break your neck.”
“What!” I tried to shout, “The guy was never even close.” I tried to console my mom with my eyes because I could not move my arms.
“Mom, why can’t I move my arms?” I pulled at the restraints holding me down.
“Mom! Why can’t I move my arms?” Just then, my dad walked into the room and assessed the situation.
“Son, you’re okay, just relax,” he said, and I stopped struggling.
“Honey, you were convulsing, and for your own safety, they restrained you.” As Mom was saying this, she was busily unhooking the restraints.
“Beverly, wait, let the doctors check him out. He’s fine; just let them do their job.”
My mom wheeled on him; her face was a mask of rage fueled by a mother’s concern. “This is my son, and I will not leave him tied to some hospital bed like a crazy person.”
The emotion and power in her voice would have sent anyone else reeling. Not my dad; he stood there looking her in the eyes, just as calm as you please. He had his eyebrows up, which meant this was one of those moments when he would not be moved. Paul Harelson was the only person I knew that could do that.
“Bev, hon, they will do it.” That was all he said, and resignation replaced the flames in Mom’s eyes.
She exhaled and started for the door. “Well, I’m going to get the doctor!”
Just as she said that the doctor and a nurse walked into the room. My dad had to shuffle aside and then make his way to my mom. He caught my eye and winked.
I instantly felt better.
San Jose, California, March 12, 4:35 p.m. PST.
I stayed in the hospital for a couple of days while they ran test after test. I learned a long time ago patience was truly a virtue.
Adrian came to see me once. He was so uncomfortable it was painful to watch. We talked for a while, and then he abruptly had to go, but I chalked it up to him being uneasy in hospitals. He told me to call him if I saw anyone strange hanging around my room or if someone seemed to stare at me too long. He would not explain past that warning.
The headaches kept happening, but the pain was less each time. I did, however, begin to hear what I thought were voices.
On the last day in the hospital, while I waited for what was to be my final MRI before I went home, I decided to listen to the voices. What I heard fascinated me, but it did not frighten me.
I could hear the tech and the nurse talking. Well, not quite talking. I mean, I heard that too, but I also heard what they were going to say before they said it. Sometimes it was edited like they wanted to say more, but they only said half of what they actually thought. The possibility of me losing my mind was a horrible prospect. However, it fascinated me because:
I could fuckin’ read people’s minds!
As I was wheeled back to my room I stretched out, looking for other minds to listen in on. I heard a lot of worried and frightened people. I figured this was normal since I was in a hospital. I shut everything out because the flow was getting a little too much to handle. I thought it was weird; I could do it so easily. All the stories about people with telepathy… wait, telepathy? Am I saying I have telepathy?
It should be easy to prove, but to just acknowledge it to myself was breathtaking. According to all the stories and movies, I should have been overwhelmed by all the mental noise flying around me, but I wasn’t. I was able to just turn them off at will. I realized I could focus on one person and listen to just them. I discovered if I concentrated hard, I could go deeper than surface thoughts and see people’s secrets. That made me uncomfortable, so I cut that short too.
I was wondering what kind of telepathy this was going to be like. Was I just going to be able to hear thoughts, or could I talk to people? Was this just the beginning?
When they wheeled me into the room my parents greeted me with hugs and kisses. A darkness I had not noticed surrounded me and their presence banished it.
The nurse who rolled me into the room was thinking about her boyfriend and how she was a little bit afraid of him.
It sounds like I adjusted to this fast, but I never understood the whole woe is me thoughts in movies of heroes that get powers. I always felt they should embrace them and do good. So, when I got home, I started to study. I looked into every iteration of telepathy: movies, comic books, even the Wikipedia of superpowers.
My parents were glad to have me home, and they made everything normal for me. Three days after I got out of the hospital, Ian came by. It astonished me that it took him this long.
I was on the computer when he burst into my room. He was always trying to catch me doing something. I knew he was coming before he knocked. His mind was almost an open book to me. I turned around to stare at him just as he burst in.
“Whoa, creepy much!” he was startled, his joke dying behind his eyes.
“What?” I asked, looking at him innocently.
He shook his head, clearing his mind.
“Dude, your convalescence spread around the school like a fire.” Prickly feet of embarrassment crawled from the front of my scalp to the base of my neck.
“The good news is: said rehabilitation got us invited to a party, and guess who is going to be there?” I read his mind before I could stop myself. Diana’s name brought an unbidden smile to my face.
“Yeah, you know what I’m going to say. Your girl is going to be there,” he was poking me.
“Stop,” I said, my smile still plastered on my face.
Ian’s eyes brightened. “Dude, I have a surprise, c’mon!” This time I was fast enough to stay out of his head.
We went outside into the bright sunlight. There was a strange silver car parked at the curb. It was clean and in excellent condition, but obviously old. Ian walked up to it, looking back at me with pride.
“You like?” he said, his left hand caressing the top of the car. “It’s a Supra; my parents surprised me this morning after,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I passed my driving test!” he shouted jubilantly. “Get your party clothes on, and let’s go in style!”