The Awakening

         Sensations began to flood Toby Freemont’s brain as he awoke from his long sleep and became aware of the unfamiliar sounds surrounding his hospital room. The din from the hallway, just a few feet from his bed, invaded his ears. The strange mix of harsh metallic clangs, squeeks from the wheels of push carts and loud whispers of strangers frighten Toby. His immature mind could not make sense of his auditory surroundings. He tried to move. His instinct to flee and call out for his mother was strong but movement was difficult.
         Sharp prangs of pain shot down Toby's legs as he tried to raise his body. He opened his mouth to cry out in response but no sound emerged. He wasn’t even sure if his mouth was open for he couldn’t feel any sensation. If it weren’t for the pain, he would have no way of knowing that he was still within his body. Toby felt alone and abandoned. He was imprisoned in a dark strange place. He needed his mother and father to comfort him but feared that they were nowhere around.
         He opened his eyes. A searing bright light burned into his retina like a thousand white-hot pins. He quickly shut his lids tight and the pain subsided. As his mind began to clear, he became even more frightened. Tears welded up and Toby released a silent terrified scream. His torment subsided when he suddenly heard soft closely spaced footfalls approaching him.
         This sound was familiar to Toby. He had heard it many times as his mother walked around the kitchen setting the table for dinner or carrying freshly washed clothes from the laundry room. His mother was here! Toby could feel his heartbeat as he struggled to turn his head to face the direction of his mother’s footsteps. He slowly raised his lids and fought through the pain as he tried to focus on his mother’s face. However, all he could resolve was the hazy silhouette of a strange woman dressed in white approaching him. Toby strained to reach out towards this woman and cry out his mother’s name. Just as the woman’s face was beginning to come into focus, she stopped short and gasped in surprise. She dropped the tray of medicines she was carrying which hit the hard tiled floor with a loud crash.
          “Ohmagod, Toby!” screamed the woman as she quickly turned around and ran out of sight. Toby, overcome by the strain of the experience, fell onto his hospital bed and slipped back into unconsciousness.
          “Did you buckle up Toby?” Dad asked, turning his head almost completely around. He reached into the back seat with his muscular hairy arm and gave the seat belt around Toby’s lap a quick tug.
          “Is mama comin’ too?”
          “No she’s staying home,” Dad said with a broad smile, causing his neatly trimmed mustache to nearly straighten. “You and I are getting a birthday present for her. You don’t want to spoil the surprise do you?”
          “No,” said Toby. He scanned the width of his dad’s car interior, back and forth, as he shook his head to emphasize his agreement.
          “Ohmagod, Toby!”
         The world began to spin around and around as the sounds of crunching metal and breaking glass permeated the surroundings. Images whipped across the line of sight as if watching a video shot by a camera tumbling down a mountainside. The pungent smell of gasoline and blood mixed with shrill screams and rapidly changing images produced a sense of incomprehensible horror. Then all was still.
         Erie silence and unfocused forms traded with bouts of darkness. Images flashed in millisecond intervals. A large tree limb had penetrated through the passenger side window. The car roof was crushed to about eye level. Wires and broken plastic were dangling in all directions from the dashboard. Dad’s severed head rested on a child’s seatbelt strapped lap. His contorted face stared open-eyed directly at the dreamer while his mustache curled around a dropping closed mouth.
          “Daddy!”
         Then there was only blackness.
          “Toby, Toby,” a soft, high-pitched man’s voice penetrated Toby’s slumber. He could feel a gentle tug on his left shoulder as the man continued to call his name.
          “Toby, wake up now Toby. He seems to be dreaming,” said the man, "That's a good sign."
         Toby cautiously opened his eyes. The room was darkened but fragments of light that slipped past the drawn curtain surrounding his bed still pained him. Through blurry, tear-flooded vision, Toby could just make out the serious clean- shaven face of a strange man looking down at him. His eyes were now quickly adapting to the surroundings and the man’s face soon came into sharp focus. Toby did not know this man and he became frightened. The man sensed Toby’s discomfort and placed his hand on Toby’s cheek to try and reassure him that all was well.
          “There’s no need to be frightened Toby. You’re safe here. My name is Dr. Henry.” Dr Henry flashed a heartened grin. It had its intended effect on Toby. “You’ve been asleep for a long time my boy, said Dr. Henry as he lifted the stethoscope that was draped around his neck and affixed the ear pieces to his ears, “I’m going to have a listen to your heart. Just be still and breathe normally.” Dr. Henry lifted Toby’s shirt and slid the stethoscope’s sensor underneath. “Everything sounds fine,” Dr. Henry said playfully, “Are you thirsty Toby?” Toby shook his head in response.
          “Here, let me help you sit up.” Dr Henry pushed a button on the bed’s control panel. The top of the bed slowly raised until it finally stopped at a comfortable inclined position.
          “We have to have a little talk Toby,” Dr Henry said with a pensive smile. Toby opened his mouth to speak but could only muster a faint squeak.
          “Try not to talk yet Toby,” said Dr Henry as he gingerly placed his hand on Toby’s upper arm, “You haven’t moved you larynx for many years. If you struggle to speak you may bruise them.” Toby was fatigued and confused. He had no idea what this man was telling him. All he wanted was his Mom and Dad. Where were they?
          “Toby please just listen to what I have to say,” Dr Henry continued, “Your Mother is here. She is at the other side of this curtain but before you can see her there is something you must know.”
         Toby’s spirits began to lift. Mama is here! He became physically excited and tried to lift himself out of his bed. Pain shot through his arms, legs and back as he attempted to fight off Dr. Henry who was gently restraining Toby’s movements.
          “Please Toby, you will see her very soon but first just listen to me,” insisted Dr. Henry, “and try to be calm.” Toby fell back onto the inclined bed exhausted by the exertion. He decided to listen to Dr. Henry but all he could think about was his mother.
          “Ok Toby this will be difficult for you to understand but it is the truth,” Dr Henry said in a curt but kindly manner, “You have been in a comma for 24 years. Do you know what a comma is Toby?”
         Toby blinked his eyes and gazed at Dr Henry, confused as ever.
          “You have been in a deep, deep sleep for many years and in that time you have grown into a man. You are not longer 8 years old Toby,” said Dr Henry trying to remember that he was talking to a man who still thinks like a 7 year old boy, “You are now a 32 year old man and your mother has aged too. When you see her she will not look as you remember her.” Dr Henry rubbed Toby’s arm as he talked in an attempt to reassure. When he felt that Toby was sufficiently calm, he motioned through the slit in the curtain. A woman tentatively approached Toby’s bedside. She had short coifed salt and pepper hair. Her face was wrinkled with deeply etched crow’s feet radiating from both eyes. Skin hung loosely from around her cheeks, which began to seemingly tighten as her mouth formed into a broad smile.
          “Toby darling,” the old woman said as she approached her son.
         A spark of recognition showed in Toby’s eyes. He lifted his painfully heavy arms as he forced his atrophied larynx to produce the sounds his mind wanted to scream out.
          “Gaama”
         Tears flooded Toby’s mother’s eyes as she bent down to hug her son and for the first time in 24 years her son was able to reciprocate.
         A familiar smell triggered memories in Toby’s brain. At the suggestion of a hospital psychiatrist, Toby’s mother wore the brand of perfume she often used when Toby was young, hoping that it would stimulate recognition. Toby mustered all the strength he could and squeezed his mother closer.
          “Mama”
         Toby’s mother broke down into fits of sobs and finally had to be pulled away from her boy with a tactful tug from Dr. Henry.
          “I think Toby needs some rest Mrs. Freemont,” Dr Henry said in a confident professional demeanor. Toby’s mom nodded as she wiped away tears from her cheeks with a crooked finger.
          “Would you like to see what you look like Toby?” His mother said as she pulled a large rectangular mirror from the nightstand. She placed the mirror on Toby’s lap and bade him to look down at it with an encouraging nod.
         Toby swiveled his head to look at himself in the mirror. He saw a very familiar face looking back at him. His attendants at the hospital had contentiously groomed Toby over the years. His hair was cut short and his face was well shaven with the exception of a neatly trimmed mustache framing his upper lip.
         Horrific images began to inundate his memories. The face that looked up at him from his lap became distorted with the look of shock and fear. The terror of the car crash that first sent him into his nearly life long comma surfaced from the recesses of his subconscious and overwhelmed his weakened psyche.
          “Daddy!”
         Toby’s mind shut down as it did 24 year earlier. He was the spitting image of his long dead father, a fact that his mother often commented on during her hundreds of visits to her son’s bedside. She kept a picture of her late husband on the nightstand next to Toby to watch over their son when she was not there. The hospital staff had groomed Toby to resemble the picture out of respect for the father of the comatose son who was in their care.
         After long thought and conversation about what had happened, the staff decided to shave the mustache and let Toby’s hair grow a bit longer. They hoped that when and if he regained consciousness again, he would not be frightened back into the comfort of catatonic sleep. Toby’s mother, ever optimistic for her son’s recovery, kept a bottle of special perfume in her dresser draw for Toby’s next awakening.