All through supper and evening orientation, I heard that cot calling me. Now I sit and wait my turn for help going to bed, and I ache for the opportunity to stretch my body and hand it over to sleep. It has been a long day.

It’s Sara’s turn. “You ready?” Carole asks.

“Sure. Just catch me.” Carole’s arm is waiting when Sara flops backward. “Pull my knees up in the air, way up.” Carole pulls until she’s stretched most of the curve out of Sara’s spine. “Great.”

Sara does have a torso, after all. All day it was collapsed like an accordion. Now, she lets the air fill her bellows, in and out. Following precise instructions, Carole balls up a pillow, stuffs it under Sara’s bent knees, and pulls the sheet up to her chin.

I transfer into my cot as a creaky recording of taps wails from a loudspeaker up at the lodge. Carole pulls up my sheet and thermal blanket, so slowly I could easily have told her to do something different if I wanted to. She pushes my wheelchair against the screened wall, out of the way.

Sue says, “It’s lights-out. No talking.”

“Unless it’s a dire emergency, okay?” Carole adds.

On the last baleful note, Sue switches off the lights. I crane my neck to see the yellow bug lights go off in the other cabins. Behind me, they close the straw blinds. On the woodsy sides, they leave them up to let in the night air. It’s cool now.

In the dark, I see the moon glimmer through the trees. In the silence, I hear crickets chirping. At home, we turn off the air conditioner and open the windows on nights like this. I wonder if my family can hear crickets in their tent on the beach. Do crickets live beside the ocean?

Soon the sound of crickets merges with whimpering from one of the beds. Someone is homesick; I can’t tell who. Not Sara; maybe the next girl over, the MR girl, Margie. I want to ask. However, despite years of speech therapy, I am unable to whisper. There’s nothing to do but sleep.

Day Two

Day Two

One defining element of consciousness is the ability to see one’s self as an object among other objects.

My heart’s pounding and I’m sitting up, too startled even to wonder where I am. On one side, a voice whispering, “Is someone having a seizure?” The whisper comes from that little lump in the next cot. Sara. On the other side, a commotion. Yes. A crash from that direction was what woke me up.

“Who is it? Is it Denise?”

Yes, Denise. The black walkie-talkie. I glimpse pieces of her on the other side of Sue and Carole. Sue goes for a pillow, and I get a clear view. My heart jumps; around me things shift into slow motion.