Some Things Cannot Be Fixed, They Can Only Be Carried

Chapter 15) Messenger; Unspeakable Love And Grief Is Told Through Tears

"There is a sacredness in tears....They are the messengers of overwhelming grief,
of deep contrition and of unspeakable love."
- Washington Irving

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September 12th 2014

"Makoto Tachibana and Haruka Nanase." Our names echo through the waiting room. For the first time in forever, Hiroshi's voice sounds like music in my ears, rather than the sound of doom.

I get up right away. I feel all cheery today, and something tells me Haruka might feel the same. We've waited and waited, but finally time to get the answer to the lingering question; how is Haruka doing, and is he actually regaining consciousness? But honestly, I don't think I need the scans or Hiroshi's tests to proof that to me, I know he is waking up. It's happening slowly, but I can feel it.

I wheel Haruka over to Hiroshi, with my head held high and faith making my heartbeat rise.

"Follow me, please," Hiroshi says, as always, because we all know that having a conversation in the hallway near the waiting room is like confessing your love to someone at a busy bus stop; everyone's staring, listening, judging, so I also wait with talking until we reach Hiroshi's office.

I make sure Haruka's seated nicely at the table, in a way that he can look at both Hiroshi and me if he wants to, before sitting down myself. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth when Hiroshi asks me the question, "So, how has Haruka been doing the past couple of weeks?"

"Well, he's been doing good." I glance at Haruka, grinning. "Great, actually."

Hiroshi nods, a relieved expression on his face. "Any changes?"

I haven't told him yet, I wanted to ask him right now and right here. Not earlier. Because I knew that without visual and medical proof, he'd shrug everything off as reflexes, quirks, etcetera.

I sit upright and nod. "I think Haruka's regaining consciousness."

Hiroshi frowns shortly before his expression grows worried again; he looks at me like that every time, in that way that reeks of pity. "Tachibana, I—"

I close my eyes briefly, sighing. "I'm not crazy, doctor Hiroshi." I glance at Haruka and see him look back at me determinedly; tell him and proof him wrong, that's what his expression tells me. "He's reacting to things, emotionally; he cries, and smiles, and laughs at appropriate moments. He sometimes even appears to nod or tries to verbally answer to questions. He looks at me." I smile at Haruka before turning back to Hiroshi. "He's waking up, I just know it."

Hiroshi stares down at his table for a while, before looking up at me, saying, "I belief you when you say he does all of these things, really, and I'm glad he does." He shrugs. "But I'll have to run lots of tests to figure out whether it's actually an indication of, what could be very minor, recovery."

I know what he means, without having to say the words, I know that he's asking me whether I want him to run Haruka through tests and scans again. If I want to know whether it's recovery or nothing again; in other words, do I want to risk getting painfully disappointed and heartbroken, again, or do I want to live on not knowing whether Haruka's slowly recovering or not?

Easy choice.

"I want to know," I tell Hiroshi, without hesitating for a single second. "Run whatever test you need to, order all the scans, but I need to see that proof." I'm not giving up hope until I'm proven wrong.

Hiroshi nods and tells me that, if that is what I want, he'll do whatever he needs to figure out where Haruka change in behavior is coming from. "I'll start with some smaller tests," he explains to me, and Haruka. "If they look promising I'll run Nanase through bigger, more trustworthy, tests and I'll order some scans to make sure we're not getting false hope. Is that okay with you?"