The Disappointment Kid (Completed)

25

The days passed, and there was still no significant change in Henry's condition. Peter, Julian and I had sent Henry's mother and stepfather home for a while to get some rest and have a proper shower, promising that we wouldn't leave Henry's side for even a second.

I was sitting next to the hospital bed, holding Henry's hand. His face was still black and blue, and there were lacerations on his arms. All of a sudden, my mind went back to the deer and the elderly lady who had accidentally run it over. I remembered the deer's will to live and the lady's kindness to me, a perfect stranger. I had made a sort of promise to myself that day. I had decided to find a behaviour pattern for myself that would not only help me but would also be beneficial to the people around me. Construction instead of destruction.

My mind went through the chain of events that had brought me here. There was Henry and Peter's reconciliation, Henry's confession, my diagnosis at the hospital, my new bond with my father and sister. My fragile truce with my mother.

Next to Henry's bed, on the bedside table, I spotted a magazine. Mrs Thornton must have left it there. Its cover sported a smiling Kim Kardashian, perfect make-up, perfect hair-do. Absolutely beautiful. '20 shocking photos of stars without makeup inside' read the headline. Outside versus inside. Surface versus core.

Hate versus anger.

I had a sudden epiphany. All my life, I had believed anger equalled hate. Hate was bad and needed to be eradicated. So, in analogy, anger was bad and needed to be eradicated.

But sitting on that uncomfortable plastic hospital chair, looking at Henry's mangled face, being with my friends, I realised that anger and hate were, in fact, not the same. Hate, I understood, was the force of destruction and division, while anger was a possible driving force of constructive value, a force that made you get up off your backside and do something about 'it', whatever 'it' might be. Hate led to regression while anger enabled progress and, used wisely, eventually unity.

When I looked out of the window, I saw the mass of cloud cover part and the sun breaking through. At the same time, I felt Henry's fingers twitch. My eyes swivelled to his face. His eyelids had started to flutter. Julian had noticed and had grabbed Henry's other hand.

Still holding my best friend's hand, I rose from the chair and grabbed Peter's arm with my free hand, then motioned for Peter to do the same with Julian, who accidentally knocked down the magazine. My gaze followed its trajectory and landed on a nearly unrecognisable Kim Kardashian. Raw and real. And somehow more beautiful than the perfect fake on the cover.

I looked down into Henry's eyes, which were fully open now, tired but clear. And I knew. I simply knew that I was never going to give up again.

"I'm done being a disappointment kid. I'm done meeting good people who are somehow made to feel that they are not enough. I am done with hate. Because hate, including self-hate, will always lose in the face of humanity and unity."

I tightened my grip. "Let us be the four musketeers. One for all, and all for one. Let us be better than those who are trying to bring us down. After all, you can't change the others. You can only change yourself and hope that the ripples will cause the world to change, bit by tiny bit, for the better."

Henry's voice was scratchy and faint, but it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in the world. "You still sound like a Facebook post, Cat. But a pretty perfect one. I'm so proud of you!"