Coma Girl: part 1 Read Online Free Page B

left the apartment and found some lovesick guy lingering in the hall, hoping for a whiff of Roberta.
    “Hi, Marigold, it’s me, Roberta.” Then she laughed. “Or should I call you Coma Girl? Girlfriend, you’re a dang celebrity. I can’t go online without seeing some mention of you.”
    The chair creaked as she settled into it.
    “I brought one of the apple fritters you like. But since you’re not awake,” she continued thickly through a mouthful, “I guess I’m going to have to eat it myself.”
    As if she needed a reason.
    “New room, huh? Well, this is better than ICU, I guess. They only let me step inside once to get a look at you, then shooed me right out again.”
    The sound of fingers being licked enthusiastically filled the ward. I could smell the glazed icing on the fritters. It was like a little sniff of heaven.
    “They thought they were going to lose you, you know. Guess you showed them.”
    No one had told Roberta that being moved to a long-term care ward wasn’t really an improvement over ICU—it was only an improvement over death.
    “Between you and me,” she said, her voice sounding closer and lower, “you’re the best-looking one in here. Your roomies seem a little… stale. Coma Girl, you gotta get out of here.”
    I was working on it.
    “Guess who came into the bakery today? Go on—guess. Okay, you’ll never guess so I’ll tell you—Marco. Remember Marco? The guy I dated last spring until I found out he was married? Well, he says he’s left his wife for real, this time, and he wants to get back together. What do you think I should do?”
    Run like the wind.
    “I know you never liked Marco, but I think he’s changed.”
    He hadn’t… people don’t change, not for the better anyway.
    “Guess who else came in this week? Go on—guess. Okay, you’ll never guess so I’ll tell you—Duncan.”
    Duncan. The mere mention of his name nearly sent me back under—I could feel the fingers of deep unconsciousness pulling at me—the equivalent, I supposed, of a person in a coma almost passing out. I hated that even in this state of near-nothingness, he could still affect me.
    “He’s back in town, and get this—his fiancé is friends with the owner of the bakery. They came in to taste test cakes for their wedding. I mean, what are the chances they’d walk into the bakery where I work? If you ask me, it’s kind of freaky.”
    Welcome to my life.
    “He didn’t know about the accident. When I told him you’d been injured, he was really upset.”
    I guess that made me feel a little better, but not less comatose.
    “I wasn’t nice to him, in case you’re wondering. I wasn’t rude, but I wasn’t nice because no matter what you say, I think he treated you pretty shabbily.”
    And that’s why I love Roberta.
    “Oh, and his fiancé—who laughs like a barking seal, by the way—chose the pink grapefruit cake for the reception. I mean, yuck. Am I right?”
    She was right. But pink grapefruit was trendy and sounded hip on Pinterest wedding boards. Not that I’d ever haunted Pinterest wedding boards. What reason did I have to look at Pinterest wedding boards? I could count on one hand the number of proposals I’d received in my life— if I put my finger and thumb together to make a big, fat “zero.” If I could lift my hand.
    “Anyway, I thought you’d want to know he was back in town.”
    And planning his wedding. To someone else.
    The sound of wax paper being wadded up reached my ears and the chair creaked, indicating Roberta had stood. “Listen, Marigold, I hate to be a downer, but I have to know what to do about the apartment. I mean, your half of the rent is still being drafted out of your checking account, but I feel bad that you’re paying and you’re not even there. On the other hand, I don’t want to find another roommate if you’re going to wake up tomorrow.”
    I would do my best to oblige.
    She sighed. “Okay, I gotta run. Marco is waiting for me in the lobby.