Beep...beep...beep... Who could have known such a simple sound could hold so much power. The difference between life and death. The white walls surrounding me feel like they're caving in, hoping to crush me. My eyes are sore from the crying; my mouth, producing nothing but blood-curdling screams. I can't stand to look back at the hollow, lifeless body lying on the hospital bed that once belonged to my favorite person in the world. Beep...beep...beep... Little did I know the absence of this simple sound would cause a hole in my heart forever.
Two Hours Earlier...
I look down at my phone and sigh, 1:56 it reads. My daily 2-10 pm shift is about to begin, and I couldn't be less excited. Jacket upon jacket, I'm bundled up; ready to stand in the window and battle the brutal December air. "Welcome to Main Street McDonald's, how can I help you today?"; after two years, the question rolls effortlessly off my tongue. After a nice lunch out with my boyfriend, I was in a decent mood. Laughing as I greet customers with a cut-out of Ronald McDonald's face, my phone starts ringing. I let it go to voicemail twice, on the third ring I look down at the name. "Grandma" along with 6 notifications of text messages and two miscalls took up the screen. I feel a ping in my gut as I answer the phone.
"Jugie, I need you to get to the hospital right now! Your father passed away..." Her voice trails off as she struggles to hold her sobs. I'm paralyzed. I can't believe the words that came out of her mouth. My father? He couldn't have passed away! I just had seen him two days ago. My manager rushes in ready to yell at me; only to find the headset on the floor and me sitting there blankly. She tried to talk to me but I can't make out what she's saying. My first instinct is to run, but where would I go? I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. My heart feels like it's in the Olympics. I open my mouth to explain but I can't make out a sound. I can still hear the faint broken-hearted voice on the phone, I lift it and hand it to my manager. She explains to me that my grandmother is sending my aunt to get me and to take a few days off to collect myself.
As I get in the car, I feel as though I'm in a movie. This couldn't be happening. There's no way he could be gone. Memories flood my mind. All I can think about was how alike we were. How when we would sleep next to each other, we would wake up in the exact same position. How he would grow out his hair just so we could look more like each other. The smile that would take over his face whenever he saw me. How excited I would get every time my phone rang, and it was him looking for me after spending so long away in jail. Hearing "Jugie!" being yelled as I walked down the street and he would find me. One memory keeps playing over and over; just two days prior we were at near Wendy's, laughing, walking around in the rain. "I love you babygirl!" I play the video of him saying this to me for the last time again and again. My aunt wipes the tears from my face, trying to hold me. I don't want to be touched though. I just want my father.
At the hospital, I search for my mother; afraid to go in the room alone. "She's not coming, Jugie... She's shooting up with Rick at the hotel...." I felt my heart sink a little more. I cling to my grandmother as we enter the room. My aunt is lying on the bed next to him. My uncles circle around the hospital bed. Everyone gives me sympathetic looks as I walk pass them. My legs feel like jelly as I walk towards a chair in the corner of the room. A cup of water is handed to me as I take a seat. My eyes are locked on the wall in front of me, afraid of what I will find if I look elsewhere. The Styrofoam is crushed in my hand. I can't even feel the ice-cold water as it merges from the cup and pools on my lap. As I look down towards the cup, I notice an arm in the corner of my eye. The red Chinese dragon I used to trace as a child stared back at me. It was as though my father was telling me to calm down. I reach out, keeping my eyes locked on the tattoo, and begin tracing it. When I used to cry or when I was scared, I would trace my dad's dragon tattoos and they would calm me down. I feel myself begin to relax, humming as my fingers follow the outline of the tattoo. That was until the nurses came in and explained they were there to take his body. The reminder that he was actually gone and not coming back was here. I cling to his arm, finally looking up; but the man lying in the bed doesn't look like my father. He doesn't have the same goofy smile, or gleaming eyes that used to look at me like I was the best thing in the world. There was only a lifeless, pale corpse staring back at me. I'm scared as everyone moves towards me. The cops are rushing into the room. It's only then do I realize, I'm screaming. I can't stop. Feelings overwhelm me as I try to dodge my uncles that are trying to hold me. I don't want them to take him. I don't want to lose him. My eyes burn as I stare as the machine next to him, hoping and praying to hear that simple little sound; but it never came.
Two years later....
Looking back, I wish I had a time machine so I could go back in time and warn him about what was going to happen that afternoon. I wish I could tell him not to put that needle in his arm and that his best friend was trying to give him a hot shot. That rat poison mixed with heroin was going to take him away from me. I would go back in time and tell him the story about how the absence of a single beep would tear a hole in my heart that would never be filled.
