Imperfect

T W E N T Y - L A W R E N C E M U L L I N S

Lights burning through my eyes, I heard echoes of voices.

"He's awake," a woman praised, "he's finally awake."

I lifted my head up to see my room filled with people that I had no clue of who they were.

There was a black woman, who was expecting—it seemed that she could be due at any minute now.

"You're finally awake baby," the pregnant woman told me, "I've missed you so much..."

She began rubbing my hair softly, kissing my forehead, she looked deeply into my eyes—I was so confused, I didn't know what was going on.

"You've been in a coma, sweetheart." A white lady informed me, coming up towards me, rubbing my hair as well.

"Who are you people?" I asked, wanting to know why they were all surrounding me.

"Good morning everyone," a doctor came in with a beige folder in his hand—I assumed it was my file that he was holding tightly.

"Why doesn't he remember us," the pregnant lady asked the doctor, "why doesn't my husband remember who I am?"

"Husband," I looked at her, "I'm your husband?"

"Yes you are," she smiled, looking sweetly into my eyes, "you are my husband, Lawrence."

The pregnant woman was my wife—well, that's what she told me. And, my name happened to be Lawrence. Lawrence sounds like an okay name.

"Mr. Mullins suffers from short-term amnesia," the doctor announced to me and everyone inside the room, "his memory will return shortly."

"How shortly," the woman who said I was her wife asked impatiently, "you told us that his body isn't functioning right and that he could go any day now!"

I looked at the girl as she balled her eyes out, in tears.

"What does this chick mean?" I asked, worried about my life—although I didn't know much about my life.

Another woman came up to the pregnant woman, hugging her tightly, comforting her as she cried on her shirt.

  I assumed that the woman that she was crying on was her mother.

"He could've died during the coma, but he didn't," the doctor responded to her, "talk to him while you have time."

The doctor left the room, leaving everyone in the room speechless.

Although I was worried about my life, I was still confused.

  I asked, "What is going on, why am I in the emergency room?"

"You've been in the emergency room for three weeks..." the pregnant wife said to me.

"You're beautiful," I told her, "what's your name?"

"I'm your wife," she cried, laying on my arm, "it's me, Abigale—Abigale Mullins..."

"Abigale Mullins," I smiled as I watched her laying on my arm, "so does that make me Lawrence Mullins?"

"Yes it does..." the woman from beside said, continuing to rub my hair down as tears dropped on my pillow.

"Who are you?" I asked the woman.

"I'm your aunt, Lawrence," she told me, wiping her face clean, "I'm your Aunt Joan..."

Everybody in the room seemed like they were inside a funeral home, as if someone died.

"How did I end up in the emergency room?" I asked again.

"We were hit head on and from behind..." my wife informed me.

"Why aren't you still in the emergency room?" I wanted to know.

"I didn't have the injuries like you did babe," Abigale told me, "I was hit in the head while you were hit viciously in the head by your steering wheel, causing you to have a huge crack coming from your head. The glass from the windshield broke inside the car, puncturing into your organs..."

"How am I still alive?" I asked, wanting more answers.

Everyone stood silent, not answering me at all.

  This question needed to be answered, but no one knew how to answer it for me.

I looked at every inch of the room for answers, but I still didn't get any answers.

Was it God keeping me alive?

"Could it be God?" I asked.

"It could've," Abigale's assumed mother said to me, "it could've been God..."

"Listen to me baby, listen to me very closely," Abigale told me as she got up from sobbing on my arm, "there was nothing that could've been done—they operated on you, but it wasn't any use. The problem is your heart..."

What was wrong with my heart? What weren't they telling me?

  I am man enough to handle the truth—why weren't they giving me the whole truth?

"Your heart keeps stopping," my aunt informed me, "there's nothing they can do. Unless you want to have an heart transplant..."

A heart transplant, my heart isn't good enough for my body anymore.

I looked at the Abigale girl; I wanted to ask her a simple question, "Was I a good guy to you?"

"Yes you were," she responded to me, holding my hand tightly, "you were perfect for me."

"I may not remember anything from my life," I explained myself to everyone in the room, "but, I had this heart since my birth. This heart did everything with me, especially love this woman. I wouldn't want the heart transplant. A different heart means a different love. I don't want a different love, I want this love..."

Abigale looked at me crying. I wanted it to mean something to me, but I just couldn't feel anything yet.

"Because Lawrence loved you that way," I told Abigale, "I will not take his heart from you... deep down, he's still in there and he still loves you."

"And I still love him..." she cried to me, hugging me.

I rubbed the weeping woman as she cried uncontrollably on my shoulders.