out sick

You call the sub registry to say that you will be out sick. No, out for personal reasons. No. “Out sick…with a cold.” You hang up. You e-mail your sub plans. You go back to sleep.
Two hours later and go to the diner. Eat breakfast. Read the paper. Then you walk to the hospital. You don’t like hospitals. The old people make you conscious of how young and healthy you are and how those things are ephemeral. You try not to imagine yourself being wheeled around and gumming pureed meat, but you can't. You walk through the sliding doors, realize that your third period class is being given a grammar worksheet about semicolons. You imagine their complaints. You aren’t sure if you would rather be there with their complaints or here in the hospital.

You walk past security, take the elevator up to the tenth floor, and walk past two nurses’ stations and into her room without anyone asking you any questions. Sit down next to her bed and she stares at you. Ask how she is feeling. She stares at you. Asked if she is eating. She stares at you. Ask if she wants a drink. A beer? A martini? A vodka gimlet? She stares at you. You start to cry. She stares at you. Then she startes to hum a tune. You don’t recognize it.

When you look at the clock, you realize it is the middle of sixth period. Your class is in the computer lab with the sub. They are probably checking their e-mail and updating their facebook accounts instead of doing research. You wish you could check your e-mail. Look at her and realize that she never had e-mail. You imagine yourself in the bed. Staring. Humming. Receiving no e-mails.

A nurse comes in with a tray of pureed beef, pureed carrots, and pureed potatoes. The nurse has to feed her. You don’t want to watch. You walk past the two nurses' stations and take the elevator down ten floors and walk past security and out the sliding doors. It is the start of eighth period. Walk away from the hospital quickly. You don’t look back.