Read Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story for Free Online Page A

gives voice to
my father’s words.
    “ Maggie, do you want to wake up, Chicken? You’ve been sleeping
for hours and we would really like to talk with you,” he says
quietly, squeezing my knuckles for good measure. The sadness in his
voice wounds me deeply and has me cowering in my skin.
    Do I want to
wake up?
    I don’t think I
do.
    “ Maggie, the doctors are waiting on you. Wake up
Chicken.”
    My strangled
hands sweat and the constant caressing starts to chafe
uncomfortably, but I don’t pull away. Though my world is in
tatters, my father still needs to find solace where he can and,
since my mother died three years ago, I’m all he has.
    For my sole
parent I force my red lids to creep open and immediately snap them
back down and squeeze them tight. The instigator of the bright red
glare is a sharp fluorescent light directly above my head. Seconds
later there’s a click and the offender disappears. I cautiously
open my eyes again, blinking repeatedly to allow my pupils to
adjust to the softer amber glow and turn my head in search of my
dad. His face is puffy and splotchy from crying too much, and fresh
tears are running over his ageing skin.
    “ Maggie… I’m so sorry Chicken…” He swallows hard, causing his
Adam’s apple to bob up then down, holding the rest of his words
captive. I roll over onto my side and take in the room. I’m in the
hospital.
    “ I’ll
go let them know she’s awake.”
    “ Thanks Luke.” Luke. Jon’s friend I haven’t seen in years. The
man we went to school with, whom we’ve glanced at on Skype, who
held me firm through all of this devastation. The virtual stranger
who didn’t hesitate to envelope me in a blanket of safety and not
let go.
    “ I
need to see my girls, Dad. Please,” I say, pushing my resistant
body off the hard mattress. Dad cups my shoulder, coaxing me to
stay down. When he’s satisfied I’ll do as he asks, he runs his
arthritic fingers through my tangled hair.
    “ In a
minute Chicken. The doctors want a word first, okay?”
    Dad hasn’t
called me Chicken for more years than I can count. It was a
nick-name he used when I was Mattie’s age. He said he gave it to me
because I was so much tinier than all the other kids in the
neighbourhood. Mum said it was because I hated the animation with a
passion after Dad compared Chicken Little to me. And now he’s using
it like a life line.
    Before I can
respond to my father, the door to my hospital room opens and four
people - three male, two wearing green scrubs, and one female,
dressed in a blue version of her colleagues, enter and surround my
bed. I look into their eyes as they situate themselves, three pairs
breaking contact before I do, one pair of piercing blues hold
steadfast and unrelenting.
    They introduce
themselves and explain why it’s necessary for them to be here. The
first, Dr Toey, tells me of my husband. He says Brendan was found
unresponsive at the scene and further investigation proved that he
suffered excessive trauma to his brain and spinal column, resulting
in an immediate loss of life and that he most likely didn’t suffer
any pain through his injuries.
    He uses the term ‘loss of life’ not death and emphasizes the words ‘didn’t
suffer’ because that’s supposed to be so much kinder. To me,
the end result is still the same. Dr Toey is still telling me that
my husband is gone, dead. He pats my arm and steps away with a nod,
glad that his part in all of this is done.
    I roll further
onto my side again, hitch the scratchy covers to my ears and stare
into my father’s dull hazel eyes. The second doctor takes his turn;
Dr Cox speaks of excessive blood loss and that’s when I start to
block him out because I’ve already seen the unrelenting flow he’s
talking about. I already know the outcome. I can see it ageing my
father’s face with the more detail Dr Cox divulges.
    Dr Cox takes
hold of my ankle when he gets to the end of his speech, recapturing
my attention. “We tried