The bench was unoccupied, just like the day before. Except for a book. The same book, with the cartoon boy and girl looking over an edge of a cliff, their dog behind them clinging for dear life. There were no words and yet she opened it everyday as if she could read it.

She started towards the bench, as a voice calls, “Good morning, Aggie! Care to join us today?” 

The voice is either Dave. Or Beth. Or Luke. Aggie turns, book in hand, seeing a blur of orange unraveling a yoga mat.

“I don’t think so Alice.” Aggie says. Most of the participants were older, although it looks like Alice persuaded one young gentleman to join. He was stretching next to her, his face looking withered.

Watching them all stretch made Aggie’s body stiffen. Doing yoga didn’t only seem laughable, it seemed impossible.

Alice teased, “You ought to at least try one day. You may fall in love with it. Ben here couldn’t even touch his toes when he started.” She looked at the young man, who reached down to his toes before looking at Aggie. His eyes looked sad and a mix of anger and relief flooded Aggie.

She quickly wiped her eyes, surprised to see dampness on her fingertips. She doesn’t even know him.

She didn’t want to watch them do yoga, so she turned towards the lagoon. A lagoon where the water didn’t move. Where ducks and fish didn’t splash around.

But a man is always fishing at the edge. And a little girl with the same hair as him, is always throwing bread into the water.

The man’s eyes find Aggie sometimes, the familiar green bringing her to tears everytime.

Aggie doesn’t linger on them for too long and instead fixates on the sidewalk. Every morning she tries to remember how she got to the sidewalk. It branches two ways, with one winding towards a great, big field that is seemingly endless. The other end leads to a forest full of dead trees engulfed in shadow and smoke.

Aggie shivers seeing the forest before a muffled, static sound erupts.

_“The forecast is sunny and 75, with a few pesky clouds-”_

__

An ice cream cart approaches the bench, the little bell breaking through the radio announcer. The man clicks the radio off before he opens up his car. His face is blurry, as he says, “Hello Agnes, here is your vanilla cone.”

She winces at the sound of that name. It feels like a shirt too big for her or a rain cloud on a beach. Wrong and out of place.

Aggie takes the vanilla cone as the scent brings a wave of nausea. Tiny pins and needles prick her wrists and neck.

_“And here to bring us the good news of the week is Keith-”_

__

The radio sounds distant, as the man and his cart walk towards the dead trees, the darkness swallowing them up.

Aggie realizes she’s standing, attempting to walk after him. She sways, suddenly feeling weightless. She grabs for the book, using it to anchor her back to the bench. Her breathing slows and realizes she is no longer sitting by herself.

A woman smiles at her before adjusting her glasses. 

“Hello, Aggie, my name is Chip. How are you feeling today?” 

An odd name and one that doesn’t register with Addie.

“I … feel lightheaded. And stuck.” Aggie said quietly. 

Chip nodded, “Yes, I can imagine. You’ve been at this bench for two weeks now. It seems you are enjoying this view though.” 

Chip looked to the lagoon, to the man and child, before turning back to Aggie.

“Did you want to try and walk the rest of the park?”

Aggie tensed but nodded slowly. Chip offered her arm and together they stood up, with Aggie only swaying for a moment.

“Where would you like to go first?” Chip asked.

Aggie ignored the skeletal trees as she pointed to the open field. Chip pursed her lips but nodded.

They walked the winding sidewalk up towards the field and Aggie crinkled her nose in delight, smelling honey and lilacs. Her shoulders sagged, calmness flooding her senses.

Chip explained, “This is the Field of Evermore, the largest preservation of wildflowers and wildlife.”

Aggie could see people in the field, tending to the different flowers and animals. Little ones laughter sang through the field, with Aggie joining with her own.

“Who are they?” Aggie asked, out of breath.

“They are the Field’s Guardians. They chose to dedicate their lives to protect it.” Chip said.

“It looks .. peaceful.” Aggie whispered, the word vibrating through here.

Chip nodded, “It is. But the choice to get here was not.”

Aggie furrowed her brows and asked, “Can I go in?”

Chip turned to her, her eyes looking at her intently before saying, “Yes. You can. But going into the Field means you will not be able to go to the park. To see Paul and Stella again.”

Those names sent an electric shock through Aggie, panic rising. 

“You will also not be permitted to go through the Forest of Forbearance. It will disappear the moment you enter the Field of Evermore.” Chip said gently, looking towards the billowing smoke.

Dread suddenly filled Aggie.

Chip put a guiding hand on her back, “Let us walk to the forest.”

Aggie tensed.

“I will be with you every step of the way.” Chip said gently. 

Slowly, she let Chip guide her back to the sidewalk and closer to the shadowed forest.

Alice waved at them, “Look at you go, Aggie!”

The young man looked at her with those sad eyes, a small smile spreading.

The man who was fishing and the little girl also gave her a small wave, tears in their eyes.

Aggie’s chest felt heavy, her stomach like a brick. She didn’t understand why.

The sun abruptly stopped shining and she knew they were at the forest edge, shadows creeping out. If she goes back to the field, this forest would be gone and so would the shadows. Solace filled her, knowing the sun could reach this spot again. The man and the little girl would have more room .. for what? The relief she momentarily felt evaporated.

Chip saw her brain whirring and said, “The most terrifying part of the Forest of Forbearance is people can never see what’s on the other side. They think it’s just darkness and dread. And it is.” She squeezed Aggie’s hand. “But there is also light. It’s just deciding if it’s worth getting to.”

Aggie started shaking, fear filling her again.

Chip continued gently, “Ben is enjoying yoga here. And they are waiting for you, Aggie. She is waiting for you.”

Another jolt of adrenaline. 

“You can go to the Field. The Forest. Or even back to the bench, although I’m not sure how much longer it’ll be there. The choice is yours.” And the woman disappeared.

It was getting hard to piece together all that Chip said. She didn’t know who Ben or Stella or Paul were. Or the unknown she. But they meant something to her.

The forest smelled of sulfur and decay causing Aggie to cough and the shadows seemed to stretch further, as if to grab her. She turned to the Field of Evermore, feeling tiny bits of the sun breaking through the shadows.

She cannot go through the Forest. She had to get back to the Field.

As she stumbled back, a familiar voice said, _“There is a place where the sidewalk ends..”_

She was alive.

Aggie stepped forward, into Forbearance.

***

The room was warm and stale, the fluorescent lights making my head hurt. Or the migraine was still a lingering effect from the accident.

I put the _Shel Siverstein _book down, having read it for the 20th time this week and unmute Channel 2. The anchor, Keith, was telling a story about a dog who saved a cat. But I’m staring at the two framed pictures, one of wildflowers and one of winter trees. They were a distraction, to help dissociate where I am.

A hospital room.

The anesthesiologist came in this morning to administer her regular dosage. He always calls her Agnes and because of this, I never learned his name. She is Aggie. 

But her nurses, I know by name.

Alice always stretches her out, to keep her muscles active. For when she wakes up.

Luke sings to her.

Beth and Dave share hospital war stories. And gossip.

They talk to her like she is merely asleep. Paul and Stella do too.

But me? I haven’t said anything to her.

I have played the night in my head everyday for the last two weeks. I see the plumes of smoke, I hear the screech of cars braking too late and I feel Aggie go dark.

I come to the same conclusion: it’s my fault.

I could have Ubered. Called anyone else.

But it is always my sister I call. When I am broken, when I am drunk, when I need someone.

My responsible, protective, big sister is in a coma.

Not me, because she forced me to sit in the backseat.

Not the drunk driver, Ben, who left the crash with only a broken leg and months of physical therapy.

My sister.

She had a session this morning with her neurologist. They had wheeled her back 15 minutes ago still covered in the tubes and machines keeping her alive.

The door silently opens, as Dr. Chipperton, Aggie’s neurologist, steps in. 

She has been attempting a new form of treatment. There is much to learn about comas, she had said, but she believed the answer lies in monitoring brain activity.

Her pitch to Paul was finding different ways to increase brain activity. Through conversation. Consciously or subconsciously, Dr. Chipperton believes coma patients are absorbing what we say or do around them.

Paul and Stella have clung to this.

I have visited her everyday since the crash. I get here, see her, and I cannot speak. And today is no different.

I want to apologize to her but selfishly, I want to do it when she gets better. If I do it now, I fear she will leave.

Dr. Chipperton administered a therapy session today. She spent the hour just talking to Aggie.

“The session went well!” Dr. Chipperton said.

“How can you tell it went well?” I ask skeptically.

“There was an uptick in brain activity towards the end of our session.” Dr. Chipperton said, her excitement palpable. Optimistic.

“What did you say to her?” 

“I spoke to her about choices. We talked about Paul and Stella. And you.” She said, pulling her notes up. “As soon as I mentioned you, activity rose.”

I blinked, looking down at Aggie, still seeing a body but no soul.

“Have you given any thought of speaking to her?” Dr. Chipperton asked gently.

I tense, my eyes going to Aggie.

“It could be as simple as sharing a favorite memory of her.” Dr. Chipperton continued.

I closed my eyes, as I saw a younger Aggie pushing the neighborhood boy down when he pulled my hair. Of her calling me when she was pregnant with Stella. Of all the coffees, Cheez-Its, and pizzas we have devoured over the years. This can’t be everything - there is still more for us to do, to see.

I breathe deeply before turning my eyes to the silver book next to Aggie’s bed.

“Can I .. can I read to her instead?” I ask quietly.

Dr. Chipperton looked at the book, a wide smile erupting.

“I think that is a lovely idea.”

I grab the book, opening it to our favorite poem. My heart cracks, seeing the small crayon marks from Aggie.

I use my one hand to grab hers, clearing my throat, _“There is a place where the sidewalk ends..”_

Someone is squeezing my hand. I snap to Aggie’s face.

Her eyes are open. 

“I am so sorry, Aggie.”