Better Off As Lovers

6.22.17

Danny's Point of View

It's been three days of Julie being comatose. I haven't left her side, with the exception of bathroom purposes. They have tried to make me leave after visiting hours are over. So I just stand outside her door, much like a stalker, waiting for a sign of life.

Some people from school have come to see Julie and give their condolences. Erin and Jason have had better communication than ever. It seems that they've tried to put away their differences and work through this together.

Dad and Tony have stopped by, looks of worry printed on their faces the whole time. Eli wanted to come, but Dad thought he was too young. Maybe I'll bring him some other day. He's 12, he can handle it.

We were supposed to leave for England tomorrow, but obviously that's not happening. I haven't called yet, because doing so would finalize this. Make it all real. I'll ask someone to later.

Sabrina and Maddy have been trying to spruce up the drab hospital room, so when Julie wakes up she won't be saddened by the lack of color. They've done a damn good job, too.

There's blue everywhere, Julie's favorite color. They've painted pictures and hung them up everywhere, and scattered old books around the room. They're always moved out of the way by the nurses, but we always prop them back up afterwards.

It smells like old books and cleaning supplies. Julie's favorites. It kills me to sit in here every day, looking at all of these things reminding me of her. Reminding me she's practically dead. In a way, this is worse. When someone is dead, you know they'll never come back. But in a coma, you can't ever be sure if the patient will wake up again. It burns not knowing.

Every once in a while, she twitches slightly. I violate the nurse button, and they all come running. It's the same every time. They give me looks of sympathy and tell me it was a false alarm.

Sabrina brought by Julie's Spartan hoodie, the one she stole from me. I now understand what she meant when she said she would smell it to imagine me there. The hood smells like her shampoo, and floods my mind with memories of us laying together on her twin bed, her head on my chest and my face buried in her hair.

I feel like I have to cry, but I can't. All the tears I have are spent. Instead I just feel hollow, and alone.

I wonder what she's dreaming about. Even though I desperately want her to wake up, I hope she's having a good time in her coma. Can you do that? Can you dream about good things that way?

I would've laughed at that, if she weren't gone.