Girlfriend in a coma Read Online Free PDF

remembered the envelope in my jacket. I opened the envelope. On binder paper it read: December 15 ... 6 DaystoHawaii!!!
    Note:CallPammieaboutbeadsfor cornrowinghair.Also,arrangestreaking.
    H iBeb.Karenhere.
Ifyou'rereadingthisyou'reeither a)theWorld'sBiggestSleazebagandIhateyou for peekingatthisor b)there'sbeensomeverybadnewsandit'sadaylater.I hopethatneither oftheseistrue!!
Whyam Iwritingthis?I'm askingmyselfthat.1feellikeI'm buyinginsurancebefore gettingonaplane.
I'vebeenhavingthesevisionsthisweek.Imayevenhavetoldyouaboutthem. Whatever.Normallymydreamsarenowilderthan,say,ridinghorsesor swimmingor arguingwithMom (andIwin!!),butthesenewthingsIsaw-they'renotdreams. OnTVwhensomebodyseesthebankrobber'sfacetheygetshotor takenhostage, right?IhavethisfeelingI'm goingtobetakenhostage-IsawmorethanIwas supposedtohaveseen.Idon'tknowhowit'sgoingtohappen.Thesevoices they'rearguing - oneevensoundslikeJared - andthesevoicesarearguingwhileI gettoseebitsof(thissoundssobad)theFuture!!
It'sdarkthere - intheFuture,Imean.It'snotagoodplace.Everybodylookssoold andtheneighborhoodlookslikeshit(pardonmyFrench!!).
I'm writingthisnotebecauseI'm scared.It'scorny.I'm stupid.Ifeellikesleepingfor a thousandyears-thatwayI'llnever havetobearoundfor thisweirdnewfuture. Te lMom andDadthatI'llmissthem.Andsaygood-byetothegang.AlsoRichard, couldIaskyouafavor?Couldyouwaitforme?I'llbebackfrom wherever itisI'm going.Idon'tknowwhen,butIwi . l
Idon'tthinkmyheartisclean,butneither isitsoiled.Ican'tremember thelasttimeI evenlied.I'm offtoChristmasshopatParkRoyalwithWendyandPammie.TonightI'm skiingwith you. I'llripthisuptomorrowwhenyoureturnittomeUNOPENED.God's looking.
    xox
Karen
    I thought it best not to show Mr. and Mrs. McNeil the letter at that moment; it could only confuse without offering consolation. I stuffed it back in the vest pocket of my ski jacket and sat and thought of the times I'd used this very bathroom before, back when Jared was in the hospital and before he left us and this world, atom by atom.
I thought of Karen in the intensive care unit and I felt as though I was a jinx of a friend. I stood up and achingly returned to the waiting room. An hour later when the corridors seemed empty enough, we snuck in to see Karen. The machinery of her new life was fully set in motion - the IVs, respirator, tubes, and wave monitors. An orderly shooed us out of the room, and we shambled toward the exit, the world no longer quite an arena of dreams - it was just an arena.
    The West Vancouver police interviewed each of us that afternoon, down at the station on Marine Drive at Thirteenth. Understandably, they wanted the story from each of us individually to weed out discrepancies. But there were none. The housewrecker was quickly glazed over, the culprits still lolling about in the cells below us. Afterward at the White Spot restaurant down the road, we hunkered without hunger over cheeseburgers. The only pattern we could see in Karen's behavior on Saturday was that she had been behaving . . . differently that day. I showed everybody the letter, and we became chilled.
    "We were shopping at Park Royal yesterday," said Pammie, "all Karen could notice were weird little things like the color of mandarin oranges. We tried Christmas shopping, but instead she just rubbed her hands over fabrics. At the bus stop at Taco Don's, she ate one of Wendy's Mexi-Fries. I think that was all she had to eat before skiing. Poor thing. I'd have passed out, too, if I'd been her."Wendy said, "We should have forced her to eat."
"Don't rake yourself over the coals," I said. "There's something else going on here. We all know it."
"I agree. She was acting sort of spaz/ed yesterday," said Pam. "Tiny stuff. Preoccupied - and not just by that diet, either."
"I think we should show her parents the letter," Hamilton said. We agreed to do so later that day. Our table went silent.
    That same evening, after feeble naps, we returned to Lions Gate Hospital, but Karen was unchanged. Not a limb, not a