Recovering Forever (Chapter 4)

by Zoe/Platypie in a land of daydreams (which my teachers say I visit too often)

Recovering Forever
Part 1
Chapter 4

A resounding knock sounded against the door. Rachel looked up from her nails, and Stephanie glanced away from her book.

"Come in," called Stephanie finally. Apparently it wasn't a nurse, because they just barged in. What the heck was she still doing in the hospital anyways? Whatever. She sighed as the door opened, but then she saw who it was.

"Oh my gosh, Karen!"

IN seconds she was out of her bed, and at the doorway, where she hugged her friend.

"I thought you said you wouldn't be here until a week from now!"

"Yeah, well, I got better tickets."

They talked for a matter of minutes, blabbering about nothing and being quite content to be giddy. Karen looked just how Stephanie remembered her. Her strawberry-blonde hair still stood out against her pale face, and her eyes were still a sparkeling chocolate brown. She was about six feet tall, taller than Stephanie was herself. She wore a yellow sun dress and flip-flops on her feet. She hadn't changed a bit.

After a while of talking and catching up, Stephanie noticed Rachel, standing up with her arms crossed. Looking back to Karen she said,

"Um, Karen, this is my little sister Rachel."

"Yeah, we've met."

"Really? When?"

"Remember? That picnic sort of thingy?"

"Oh yeah. That was, like, two years ago. Rachel was only, what, fifteen?"

"Yeah. Anyways. . . Good to see you again Rachel."

"Yeah," Stephanie heard her sister reply gruffly. She wasn't good at talking to people she hardly knew.

It was a while before Stephanie and Karen ran out of things to talk about, close to an hour, and when they did they were at a loss for words. So Rachel suggested they turn on the old T.V..

Stephanie didn't want to, but Karen seemed to be fine with it. So Rachel, quite rudely, turned on the remote and began to watch the seven 0'clock news. Karen and Stephanie soon got to talking again, and then Karen got into some news report about some criminal, and Stephanie started to read.

Finally, dazed from so many words, Stephanie put a bookmark in as she reached the end of the chapter. It seemed no one was really watching the news anymore, and the volume was down. She was about to go back to reading when a picture flashed onto the screen. Her book fell to the floor with a thud.

She sat straight up, looking at the face. Dark brown shaggy hair pooled from the man's head, and he had piercing green eyes. Green eyes Stephanie was sure she knew.

"Turn the volume up, Rachel," ordered Stephanie in a hushed tone.

"Huh?"

"HJust do it!"

Muttering to Stephanie about how bossy she was, Rachel fumbled with the remote, and gradually the voice of the anchorman got louder.

". . .The man was found yesterday, June twenty-second, on a remote island of the coast of New Zealand. He was in poor condition, but very much alive. Apparently, he was yet another survivor of the Falcon Flight, a ship which crashed four years ago. He was thought dead, and even many rescue missions could not locate him. But apparently, he is alive. He had been living on the island for about four years when he was found and rescued. On the set, we have Metilda Bedfield, his mother. So, Metilda, tell us. . ."

They went into an interview, mostly about his childhood, what the mother knew, how shocked she was. But Stephanie wasn't listening. She knew who it was. And she couldn't believe it.

"Stephanie? Steph, are you okay? Steph?"

She answered her sister with a slow nod. Okay? Yes she was okay. She thought. Her heart was racing.

"Steph, that's him isn't it? James?"

She nodded once again, her mind numb and disbelieving.

"James? Who's he? What the heck is going on?"

Stephanie opened her mouth to speak, but it was dry and no words came out. So Karen spoke for her.

"That's James. He's from the island. Stephanie. . . She knew him. To say the least. Hasn't she told you?"

Rachel shook her head. Karen looked at her with daggers in her eyes, and Rachel looked at her brimming with curiosity. Guilt slowly filling her disbelief, Stephanie nodded.

"I'll tell you. I'm sorry I haven't."

"You've hardly told me anything about the island! You were too mortified, or whatever! So tell me now, what the heck is going on?"

Stephanie nodded once again, so slowly it must have seemed she wasn't nodding at all. Finally, almost choking, she muttered,

"You're right, Rachel. I'll tell you. I just need a minute. . . Or an hour, I don't know which."