Moon is recovering within the hospital as discoveries are… well, discovered.

A heavy set man dressed in a well-worn shirt and tie came out of the bathroom. His clothes had seen a lot of wear since when they were new and now they were starting to show their age from not only it being twelve years since he bought them, but from being one of the few suits he would still fit into. He didn’t mind much, not having things for himself, because it meant that he could provide something for his kids. Every little bit counted.

He called out down the hall, “Connie, is Dusty okay?”

“He’s still coming off the flu if that’s your question. Other than that, he’s been okay today. Why?” She came out of the kitchen and into the hall. Like him, she was still in her work clothes. Older jeans, worn steel toe boots, and a navy button down shirt that had “Connie” embroidered on one side and the company patch attached to the other side.

“Well, he’s not doing well now.” He moved to the side as the bathroom door opened and a small, twig like boy came out. His pale skin was offset by his dark brown hair. Looking at the three of them, you could tell he favored his mother as she also was exceptionally thin, standing about 5’5”, and with the same color hair. Where his was in a bowl cut, hers was thick and tied back away from her face. He looked like a miniature version of her.

“Hey Mom. I’m not feeling so well,” he explained.

She quickly strode down the hall, passing the rows of pictures showing their family. Their eldest in his last picture from when he was eighteen, a husky boy who favored his father; their second eldest, a blond broad shouldered girl who favored both parents on her first day in college, her parents both on one knee to be at eye level as she was in her wheelchair; their third child in a recent picture, a brunette wearing glasses posed in her seventh grade cheerleader outfit; their forth, Dusty holding a first place medal from a 5k run; and their last, a young boy in a Webelos scout uniform who also favored his mother in the face, but his father in his stocky build. Theirs was a family who had seen an early loss in their eldest, but one who persevered through that dark time and met each day as a challenge to be better than the last.

She placed her hand on Dusty’s forehead, following to his cheek. “Well, your fever isn’t that bad. Let’s get you back into bed.”

“Yes Mom. Oh, I need to get something.” He ducked back into the bathroom and came out with his eldest sister’s flower pattern blanket and then he was escorted to bed. His dad Roman didn’t mind, much…. It bothered him that his second son was somewhat feminine, but only in the sense that he knew how hard of a life his kid would face in school from the other students. Once he got out of this crappy little town, he’d be much better off. Until then, he’d have to live with the prejudices that neither parent could completely protect him from.

All night each of them kept checking on him. Cleaning him up with every bucket duty they performed. By the morning, both knew something was definitely wrong. This was something much worse than the flu. Dusty had begun to stare listlessly into space and seemed drained of any effort to do everything. They couldn’t shake him out of his funk. Roman wrapped him up in the blanket and placed him into the car, rushing off to the emergency room, not wanting to waste time with trying to get an appointment with the doctor. There was some confusion when he was admitted, his fault really since Dusty had gotten his own pajamas dirty and was wearing his sister Meadow’s sleep shirt over his own shorts and using his eldest sister Spring’s flower cover blanket. Meadow and Dusty were both the same size, so they often wore each other’s t-shirts, jackets, shoes, shorts, and pants. Roman and Connie both drew the line early on to hand-me-downs between those two, but that didn’t stop them from sharing things. Thankfully for Roman, Dusty didn’t wear everything of his sister’s as some things were definitely too girly for him to be seen in.

The day disintegrated into a repeat of their previous nightmare back when his first born Rocky had died from a motorcycle accident that sent Spring into the hospital. Dusty was soon care-flighted to a larger and better hospital. He was a difficult child to treat since he didn’t react well to medications. Some worked as expected, others more so, others less so, and still others in ways that were very unexpected.

Whereas Rocky had died soon after he arrived at the hospital, it was his eldest daughter who struggled to stay alive. In the end, both of Spring’s legs had been amputated. It was a miracle that she had survived at all. At least she had been wearing Rocky’s helmet. That was probably what saved her and doomed him.

And now they were back in the hospital again, with yet another of their children fighting to stay alive.

It was the aspirins Dusty had taken to help his fever while he had the flu. They hadn’t known the risks associated with taking it coupled with having a virus. Dusty’s brain was swelling beyond his skull’s capacity to expand, squeezing him to death within his own body. The diagnosis was Reye syndrome. Dusty fought to stay alive within the hospital, his first time as a patient and not a visitor. Visiting him within the ICU was difficult for them all, so many memories returning of Spring’s time within there. Thinking daily that this could be the last, fearing to lose yet another child of theirs.

For Dusty, it was a time of confusion, not knowing what was really going on as his brain was pushing against his head and squeezing everything about himself into someone different than he was. He knew at times that he wasn’t thinking straight, but he didn’t always know when those times were. As things improved, he found himself watching his heart beat on the monitor, listening to the nurses give out messages and codes from the speakers, and getting glimpses of others as they were wheeled by his door. Some were in far worse shape than he was. Some were now well enough to be moved out.

He watched his parents with each visit, their faces struggling to maintain a cheerfulness that they did not feel in their heart. He didn’t want to die. Not that he was really scared of dying. Only that he decided that he didn’t want to die yet, not when there was so much to do. He’d never be like Rocky, the strong sportsman type. He wasn’t even like his youngest brother Forest who tended to be a bit wild and easily distracted. The fact that he wasn’t like them wasn’t just in the way they did things. After all, Dusty was an athlete too and he competed by running. And it wasn’t because he knew that he couldn’t measure up to anyone in direct physical strength competition. After all Spring was very strong and could beat most anyone at arm wrestling when she was in school. No, it wasn’t a physical type thing. After all, a body is a body. They come in all shapes in sizes. And even though he was probably closest to his sister Meadow, they were different too. She didn’t have his gift of running and he didn’t have her gift of coordination. No, when it came to his brothers, both of them were different than he was in some other fundamental non-physical way. He recognized it. They did too. Even his sisters knew.

Hell, everyone in his family knew it to some degree. Only they didn’t know how much he was different from everyone else. What he felt like down in his heart.

And he was going to tell them too. Life was too short to hide anymore.

Yes, he’d tell them; when he got out of the hospital that is.

His eyes slowly opened and looked out at the ceiling. He recognized the various things around him fairly quickly. He was intimately familiar with hospitals, way more than he cared to be. He took stock of what was around him and found that his arms had been restrained to the sides of his bed. The oxygen mask felt secure on his head and he could see the IV tubes attached to his hands. More cables could be felt on his chest attached to monitoring devices beside the bed. The logical part of his mind recognized the need for everything, but this didn’t make it any better. He struggled slightly and was finally able to push the nurse call button they had supposedly left in easy reach.

In short order the nurse had arrived and she went immediately to work, looking at his vital signs on his monitors and checking the various machines and connections.

“Could you let me out?” he asked.

“In a moment. I need to get this done and then we’ll get you out of that restraint.”

“I need out please.”

“One moment.”

“You don’t understand. I need out now. Now. I need out…” Moon could feel himself start to slip away. The rational part stepped out of the driver’s seat and he watched as his fear took over. It was an interesting thing to watch. He had seen it time and time before, whenever a hospital had him restrained like this, the old fear came back bringing with it an incredibly painful desire to escape. To not be trapped.

Moon’s arm began to twitch as he continued pleading to be released. None of that was helping him though. The nurse began to back away from him, not sure what she should be doing for him. She hit the call button upon the wall and called for emergency assistance. He could hear her and he understood what she was saying. His voice took flight with more requests.

“No drugs. Lemme go. Lemme go. No drugs. No Drugs NO Drugs… Must get free…”
He felt it begin in earnest then. His rational self left completely, his body stiffening and beginning to convulse. His warm guts leaking out before him. The twisted metal holding him prone, the weight on his chest keeping him from breathing, his legs bent unnaturally…. Unable to scream. Unable to move. Unable to do anything but hear his father calling his name softly before he finally could speak no more.

Then there was freedom. His arms were finally moving and with their release, the hold of the past was also gone and he felt himself returning, his body straining to breathe even with the oxygen mask upon him.

He looked and saw that he was being held by two different people, keeping him from hurting himself, but giving him enough room to move. One of the people holding him looked to be a doctor. He gasped out repeatedly, “Okay. I’m okay.” In a few moments, they finally released him and he focused on regaining his breath.

“Did you not see the chart?” demanded the doctor to one of the nurses who was rubbing her back. “You are NOT to administer any medication without direct authorization. He is incapable of handling things in a normal fashion.”

She looked like she was ready to take his head off, but another nurse pulled her away and out of the room.

The nurse who was beside him who had helped free him was shaking. It always made him sick to his stomach to see how others had to deal with him. It wasn’t something he wished on anyone. Together she and the doctor continued to check him out, making sure everything was still secure, getting him a cup of ice water and using a wash cloth to clean him up a little. He kept telling them how sorry he was for what he had done and thanking them for looking after him. It only made them worry that much more.

“Moon, are you okay?” He wasn’t sure if it was the nurse or doctor who asked.

“Thank you. Yes, I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m sorry for my fits. I don’t like to be tied down. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really it is. What can we get you?” It was the doctor who was asking.

“My files. Did you get my medical files and history? I have a lot of special needs.”

He actually chuckled at that. “Yes, we have it. You are very smart to have it readily available and organized and indexed.”

“There’s a lot there. So much stuff. So many things. I’m sorry.”

“It is alright. Look, I’m going to leave Rebecca here for a bit until you settle down. She’ll look after your needs until you feel you have recovered, okay?”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a bother Rebecca.”

“Everything is okay Mr. Trail. What should I do for you?”

“Call my sister. She can talk to me. Is that okay? Can we call her? I’m sorry that this is such a hassle.”

Soon his sister Spring was on the speaker system from the phone with him and he listened as she spoke. It didn’t matter what she was saying really, only that it was the sound of her voice. He finally realized she was going through the day to day she dealt with as the owner of a bed and breakfast in the tourist town she lived in.

He interrupted her finally, “Spring?”

“Yes?”

“You can shut up now.”

“Oh, you are very welcome. So what have you gotten yourself into? I got the call last night about your being admitted. A very nice woman by the name of Winner gave me some details about it all.”

“Ah…” the memory of Mrs. Rollins came flooding back into his brain. “Oh god. One moment.” He looked over at Rebecca. “I’m okay now. Do you mind if we have some privacy? No offense intended, but well, there are some things I’m embarrassed about.”

Spring laughed. “He’s embarrassed about how he was dressed when he came in I bet.”

Moon closed his eyes and counted to ten. Rebecca simply smile and responded, “It’s okay. I wasn’t on duty when he came in. So I’ve no idea what he was or was not wearing. However give me a moment and I’ll get you something to wipe your face with after you finish your call.”

He looked at her, his eyebrows cocked in confusion.

She hit the mute button and answered, “You still have some makeup on you.”

It was good he was in the hospital. They could save him when he died of embarrassment.

When she left, he continued, “Spring, I’m sorry for the call.”

“It’s okay little brother. So what were you wearing? All I got from them was that it was something very girl like. They apologized about cutting you out it and they were asking if you had any special needs because of the way you were dressed and all.”

“Damn.” He counted again. “Well, I can always sew another one. I was doing some cosplay when my meds went wonky.”

“Ah ha! That would explain things. Look, you need to add into your medical database thing about that sort of thing. This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked about it you know.”

“yah yah.” He waved her off with his hand, even though she was on the phone. “this is only the second…”

“Third.”

“Okay, third time this has happened. I am not going to put that in my file for the rare occasion…”

“Third out of five times.”

“Rare occasion!”

“I’m just glad they didn’t commit you again because of your freaking out.”

“God that was a nightmare. Thanks for bringing that one up.”

“It took awhile to get you out of that mess.”

“Please, don’t remind me.”

“Anyway, I need to know. Do you need me up there or are you okay?”

“I’m fine now. I don’t have any clothes to wear home, but I’ll manage.”

“Please don’t get arrested.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“Any time little brother.”

“Spring?” he waited until he had her attention. “Thank you for helping me here. I appreciate it.”

He could hear her voice become a little strained. She was the one constant in his life, his safe guard, his only family. And he was the same for her. “You’re welcome as always. I love you. You take care, okay?”

“Will do. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, alright?”

“Deal.”

Winner pulled into the driveway of a small house in the middle of the street. She knew enough about the area to know it was an older neighborhood that had seen better days. It was a mix of elderly folks and a few young, desperate families barely able to make ends meet. All the houses showed a measure of neglect necessitated by fixed incomes. There wasn’t a garage at the end of the driveway, but it was deep enough for two cars to fit into. Behind her she saw that Ralph had parked along the street in front of the house.

Together they walked up the porch steps and unlocked the front door, Ralph hurrying in to key in the alarm code they were given. Winner stepped in shortly after him and looked around at a very sparsely decorated room. There was a couch, two end tables, and a large recliner chair that made the sitting area. There was a small TV with rabbit ears on a cart tucked into the corner at an angle implying it hadn’t seen much use recently and beside the chair she could see a special power strip and a large wooden container devise that cleverly held and concealed the contents from direct view. She made her way there first. “Here’s his data pad he wanted. Right where he said it was.”

Behind the place where the end table met the chair and couch, tucked neatly away and fully accessible from the chair was a medium size oxygen tank with a mask and hose carefully arranged on a hook in easy reach of the chair. Winner shook her head at it all. The house smelt similar to her grandmother’s. There was always this scent of age hanging about whenever she had gone to visit. A sort of medicine smell coupled with decay.

Ralph poked his head into the cupboard. “Geez. Moon has nothing here to eat. I mean, all that’s here is a case of water bottles and some really simple soups. Let’s see… some bowls, plates, and cups, but not many of them.” He went and opened the pantry, “Ah, here’s a whole bunch of bags of… nutrient powder?”

“Ralph, you should stop poking around. We’re not here to intrude on his privacy.”

“But what does he eat? There’s only this small dorm fridge and it doesn’t have much of anything either.”

“If you had read some of his file, you’d know that he had most of his stomach and intestines taken out when he was younger. Some horrible accident that laid him up for a few years in the hospital. But it left Moon unable to eat regular foods. He’s on a very special and mostly liquid diet.”

Ralph chuckled. “And here you were telling me not to snoop.”

“I wasn’t snooping. I was learning the needs of our employee.”

“Right,” he smirked. “You know, this place is very clean. Very much like his cubicle. Not a whole lot of stuff around.”

She nodded and replied, “Enough for someone to live with.”

She laughed as she looked at a few pictures on the wall. “He was an adorable child though. He looks a lot like his mother.”

Ralph looked over the pictures and noticed, “The frames are immaculate. No dust at all. He takes care of all his things it seems.” He pointed to a Christmas photo of Moon sitting next to a blond with broad shoulders sitting in a wheelchair. “I believe that is his sister Spring.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yes. She is. What was she like on the phone?”

“Professional. She’s been through this a few times from what she told me. Moon is very fickle when it comes to medication and things don’t always turn out well for him.”

“Well, we better get his clothes. I, uh, don’t feel very comfortable going in there alone. I’m sort of, well…”

“Afraid to see what Moon wears under it all? I understand. Tell you what, we’ll do it together. If we find that it is more suited for the other to gather things, we’ll handle it that way.”

He chuckled. “I’ve the feeling that you’ll handle the undies and I’ll take care of the rest of the clothes.”

The bedroom was small and equally sparse as the living room and kitchen. The bed had a mechanical lift system with railings, very similar to a regular hospital bed. Beside it was another oxygen tank with mask. Beside the bed was a night stand with a large radio alarm clock that had come from at least twenty years ago. The only two other items in the room was a chest of drawers and a butler chair that held some sweats, house slippers, a t-shirt.

They opened the drawer indicated in their instructions from Moon, “Standard stuff here. Nothing out of the ordinary for a young man.” Winner motioned to the closet. “Why don’t you get the tote bag and get him his pants and shirt?”

Ralph opened the closet and was relieved to see it contained the standard assortment of men’s clothing. He mentally chided himself over his concerns about what he might find. It wasn’t like Moon didn’t have the right to wear what he wanted to wear, but he felt like he was intruding in a place he didn’t belong. Privacy by its very concept indicated ‘private’, as in not being known, especially by him.

He found the tote in a shelf unit comprised of multiple boxes that held various things. Shoes were all in the lower, smaller boxes and shirts, shorts, and sweats were in the upper larger squares. He collected the tote first, then returned for the shoes, jeans, shorts, sweats, and shirts he had on his list.

Winner had already finished packing the tote with her items from the list, so it didn’t take long to arrange and pack the rest of the requested things, along with the data pad. He heard Winner exclaim in the distance, “Oh dear Lord….”

He stepped out and saw that she had opened a second bedroom door and was standing in the middle of it with her mouth hanging open as she surveyed the room. Sticking his head in, he glanced around and saw racks of clothes along one side of the wall followed by shelves and bins of colorful and at times fanciful shoes, hats, and strange staff and weapon like items. Winner was staring at several sewing machines arranged on tables and another set of shelves loaded with bolts of fabric that to Ralph’s eyes, seemed like way more stuff than anyone could really use.

“What is all this?” he asked her as she examined the various machines in front of her.

“What this is…” she paused and shook her head, “What this is, well, it is amazing! Look at these!” She pointed at a few things and machines that didn’t mean much of anything to him.

“Sewing machines?” he asked helpfully.

“Not just any sewing machines. These are some of the best you can get and he’s got multiple types here. I think he has everything he could use to make anything he might want. I’m envious! I mean, I sew some, here and there, but this…” she motioned not only to the machines but the rest of the room, “this is the realm of someone who is dedicated and highly skilled as a seamstress. Look at this!” She rushed over and fingered an elegant military style jacket hung on one of the racks. “Exquisite. Look at the needle work here. This is…. Well, it is simply amazing.”

Ralph mused, “Isn’t seamstress what you call a woman who sews?”

Winner didn’t notice what he had said as she looked behind a portable partition and visibly cooed her approval.

“What is it?” Ralph moved over to where she was and saw her looking at a very elegant dress for a child that was tacked up on a small dress form. Other dress forms were tucked against the wall. “What is this?”

“This is beautiful is what it is. It must be a flower girl’s dress. Dear Lord this boy has talent. Do you see how he’s …” she stopped as she looked at Ralph’s uncomprehending face. “You have no idea how professional this is, do you?”

“Not a clue.”

“I would say that Moon has a second career as a dress maker or costume maker by some of these things. And he isn’t messing around with it either. The quality of work he’s doing is extremely good. I suspect he could go toe to toe with the best in town.”

“Dr. Steele? What brings you to our wing today?” Rebecca asked. She looked at the his dark wavy hair and found herself lost for only a moment. ‘Drake Steele’ might be a silly macho-type name for a doctor, especially one who was exceptionally handsome, but it didn’t mean he didn’t warrant the macho image it implied nor decreased the number of people who admired him for his good looks and charm.

“Ah, hello Rebecca. How are the kids?” He flashed her a smile as his hand marked where he had stopped reading on the chart he held.

She couldn’t help but smile back. Drake not only was a dream in every regard, he always seemed like it wasn’t any big deal that he was. A quiet modesty that went well with his relaxed demeanor and friendly behavior. She had never once heard of him using his appeal upon anyone or taking advantage of any one. It was like he was willing to be friendly and kind and keep inside the rules that everyone followed.

“They’re doing well. I’ve been using that cook book you recommended and it has really helped Tom with his appetite.”

He laughed and commented, “Boys that age seem to consume whole refrigerators. And they hardly ever gain a single pound from it either. Life’s not fair, isn’t it?”

“No it certainly isn’t. So who are you here to see?”

“A Mr. ‘Moon’ Trail. I need to make sure that his dietary needs are up to date and being met. He’s down this hall here?” Drake motioned down the hall he was facing.

“Ah, no. Sorry, it’s the other direction.” She told him the room number.

He shook his head, “I get so turned around on these floors at times. Thanks for pointing the way.” He smiled at her again and began walking the right way down the hall.

Looking over the history, he was amazed that this patient ever survived the initial accident. His guts had been impaled and destroyed, part of his lung had to be removed from the damage sustained, and it looked like he had spent years in the hospital recovering the use of his legs. All this was about twenty years ago too, and though he didn’t like to think along the lines, the things they did back then seemed like the dark ages to him. Not that their hearts weren’t in the right places, but the equipment and techniques they used back then couldn’t measure up to what they had today. He chuckled to himself. That’s probably what they’ll say about us in another twenty years.

He knocked on the door and upon hearing permission, he stepped into the room. A nice private room too. That made things easier when dealing with privacy concerns. He walked in, putting the chart down purposefully to his side so that he could give his attention to the person in front of him and not the patient on paper. Someone had been by already and brought a change of clothes for the man. That’s always a good sign. Mr. Trail sat up in his bed, oxygen mask on below large glasses that sort of took over his face. His hair looked clean and was a little damp, pulled back straight into a low pony tail. He even smelt like he had a shower not long ago as well. The small man placed his data pad down on the table next to him and looked up expectantly.

He looked so thin and tiny. So young too. If he hadn’t known that this was a man in his early thirties, he might have thought he was in the wrong room. It was best to check in any case.

“Mr. Moon Trail?” he inquired. “I’m Dr. Drake Steele. I’m here to make sure we’re following the right dietary requirements. Specifically, I need to make sure we’re current with your needs.”

The young man paled rapidly and his free hand clamped over his mouth. He finally squeaked out, “David?”

Dr. Drake David Steele looked at him a moment and then it clicked for him, “Dustee?” This was that magical girl he had met the night before!