The halls would usually be packed during the morning, but it wasn't. Beside me was my brother, Mason, who held a cup holder with a coffee and cup of orange juice in them.
We made it to room twenty-three.
Before entering inside, I knocked on the door to make sure it was okay to enter inside.
"You can come on in..." my sister gave us the acceptance to come inside.
Opening the door, we saw our sister sitting in those hard chairs that have your butt sore for hours.
"How are you feeling?" I asked her as I sought on the handle of her chair.
"I'm doing alright," she smiled, rubbing my leg, "he's doing fine."
"So is he still stubborn on not having that transplant?" I asked her, while I watch her husband's sleeping body covered up in white sheets.
"Yeah," she told me, "and I accept it. It's his choice, not my choice."
Our brother handed Abigale the cup of orange juice, watching her as she finally took a sip.
"Ugh," she moaned as she drunk the juice, "I miss the taste of orange juice."
We laughed at Abigale as she continued to drink the juice as if it was the last thing to drink.
"Are you alright, how are you feeling about all of this?" Mason asked our sister.
"How am I supposed to feel about this," she asked both of us, "my husband is going to die soon and I'm just here waiting on that last moment to happen—impatiently."
I felt bad for my sister. She was stuck in the emergency room with her forgettable husband who could die at any minute—she's basically waiting to cry for a long, long time.
"I don't want this day to come," she continued to explain to us, "but I am growing impatiently—I can't live like this any longer. I love him and I will always love him, but I don't think I would want to see him down. It would break me down so much. I don't think I will ever be the same if I witness him dying."
"Are you saying that you don't want to be here when your husband dies in this bed?" Mason asked her.
"I do, but then I don't," Abigale went on, "I won't know who he is when he dies; he won't know who he is when he dies..."
I felt for my sister; I wish that I could take all of this from her and make her life much better, but I don't have that kind of power.
YOU ARE READING
Imperfect
RomanceEveryone and everything assumes to be perfect, or that's what people think... "Imperfect" tells the story, an imperfect story, of two imperfect people who are truly in love with each other. Although the years they've been together, will their paren...
