Hewwo! It's not exactly a happy chapter, but, it's a CHAPTER! So be happy! :D
I dedicate this chapter to those affected in any way with the Boston Marathon. :')
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I sat in a quite uncomfortable chair in an eerily white waiting room. And these places were supposed to put you at ease while thinking about the loved one lying in a bed in another room all mangled up?
Well. I suppose I wouldn’t call Jason a loved one.
Peter sat beside me, worried not for Jason, but more for his sister—me. He wanted to make sure I got home okay. And Mom and Dad didn’t trust an emotional teenager behind the wheel. Understandably.
I sat with my elbows propped up on my knees which continuously bounced up and down with anticipation. It was 4:24 A.M. and we’d been here at the hospital for well over two hours. I was beginning to get antsy.
A plump ginger woman walked through the door, looking as tired as a mare after labor. Sorry, weird analogy. She took a deep breath before speaking.
“Jason is unconscious right at the moment, and usually we wouldn’t allow guests until 8 A.M. but we have special instructions and lists for who may visit him…”
I blinked at the woman. What was she babbling on about? Peter looked at me. The woman stared at me as though waiting for an answer.
“Well?” She demanded. “Are you going to come see him, or not?”
My whole body jolted as though electrocuted. “Yes!” I professed. I jumped from the chair and eagerly followed the slow and stout woman, Peter trailing after me.
The woman led us down the hallway, took a hard right, and pulled us into the last door on the left. A woman with a tear streaked face sat at the head of the bed, holding onto a bandaged hand.
My chest tightened as I looked at the unrecognizable figure lying in the bed. My hands trembled, and Peter came behind me, taking my hand in his. I looked up at him and he gave me a reassuring smile. He was here to support me. To make sure I’m okay. I needed to remember that.
“We have put him into a medically induced coma to help his brain repair faster. He will awake when his brain is ready, which could take a few days to a few weeks.”
I nodded, my nose getting runny. “Can he hear us?”
The woman shrugged, glancing at his form. “You can never tell. It’s different with every patient. It doesn’t hurt to try though. Just don’t try to wake him up.”
I nodded and thanked her. The woman next to the bed looked at me; her tired grey eyes searched my face. Then her dark brown eyebrows furrowed.
“Who…?” Her dark curly hair fell around her face, and I could see the resemblance between her and Jason. Their noses were identical, the same curly brown hair, but their eyes were different.
“I’m a friend from school.” I offered. “Molly Erks. Is he going to be okay?”
The woman looked at her son lying in the bed and her lips formed a thin line. She shook her head. “I always told him that bike of his was stupid. I should have never allowed him to get it, but his father…” A tear left her eye, traveling down her cheek until she stopped it with her hand. “He was wearing a helmet, leather jacket and some gloves—thankfully—but his leg…”
I frowned. “What about his leg?”
She looked at me with sad eyes. “Is it alright if I leave you here with him for a while? I need to make a few phone calls.”
“Of course.” I said. She got up and left the room, sniffling on the way out. I took her place on the chair beside the bed, but Peter stayed at his position near the door.
On any other day, I wouldn’t know who was behind the mask of white bandaging. And it was my fault too, as much as I hated admitting it, it was entirely my fault. Had I just given him a chance, and maybe just listened to him…maybe we wouldn’t be here.
I took the bandaged hand nearest to me and looked up at the heart monitor next to him. It beeped rhythmically, a good sign I suppose.
“J-Jason? Hey, I’m—err, It’s Molly. I just want to say…” I watched as the heart monitor began to beep faster. I looked back at Peter, who shook his head, taking a sudden interest in studying his shoes. “I just want to say that I’m sorry,” I continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before. A-about Parker, I mean.”
I bit my lip, willing him to just wake up now, even though I know an hour into a coma was not nearly enough time to recover.
“But what you did was stupid.” I blurted before I could stop myself, and I heard a chuckle from Peter behind me. “Anyway. I’m going on a mission trip next week and…well, get better. I’ll see you when I get back, hopefully. Hurry up and heal, alright?” I finished up as his mother came back in, some color returning to her cheeks.
I stood up, thanked her, and walked back out to the car and waited for Peter to start the car.
“You missed the turn.” I said flatly.
“We’re not going home.” Peter said.
I looked at him, his face was glowing from the dashboard and his jaw was set in concentration.
“Well then where the heck are we going?”
He didn’t answer me, just kept his eyes on the road and continued to drive. I scowled and glared out the window at the passing foliage and undergrowth. I haven’t driven this way much, but it wasn’t much to drive by; just a bunch of hills, farms, and fields. The sun was beginning to rise, just breaking the horizon as we rolled over one last hill, where Peter pulled to a rest. He got out of the car, walked over to my side and opened my door.
“C’mon Moll.” He said.
I stepped out of the car onto the snow beside the road. “Why did you bring me—“ I began, but my words got caught in my throat. Peter slung his arm over my shoulder and hugged me to him. My mouth hung wide open in awe at the perfect scene playing out before me.
Though it was very cold, and I could still see my breath, I felt warm inside, and I smiled. What lay out before me was something so beautiful, so spectacular, I was positive it happened only once every hundred years or so.
My brother and I stood at the top of the highest hill—on top of the world! Looking around us, there was a pasture of horses trying to graze through the snow, but having to resort to the bail of hay in the midst of them. And above and around us were clouds and sky. Beautiful sky. The sky gleamed gorgeous colors of pink, yellow, blue, purple, orange and a tint of red; a glorious sunrise in all. A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and flew towards the sun, to be a part of the beauty of this fine morning. A soft wind blew strands of hair away from my face, and I looked up at Peter, still smiling.
He was still gazing at the spectacular masterpiece, taking in every single detail, every stroke of color as if memorizing it for a later date. I saw his adam’s apple dip and noticed tears in his eyes.
“Peter?” I said.
He looked down at me, smiled and glanced back at the sky. “I come here a lot. Just to think.” He was telling me one of his secrets. Sharing with me a special place to him. He shook his head. “It’s always different. There’s no two dawns that are identical. Before, I would be grateful for that, because that meant that even though you and I are called identical there had to be some differences between us.”
A tear ran down his cheek, but he made no move to wipe it away. I felt a lump begin to rise in my throat.
“But now,” He went on. “Now I see that we are the same. We both share your beauty, and your brains. However, we’re different in the sense that…that…that evil has fallen upon you. A storm is clouding over your horizon, and your sun is falling sooner than mine.” His voice broke as he continued. “And I won’t have anything to follow, except for a small star in the night sky.”
Tears ran down my face now. I didn’t want him to think like that. I never did. He shouldn’t be afraid of my death.
“Peter!” I said, but there was nothing to say, so I turned and hugged him tightly, and he returned the embrace with equal force. As my tears dropped from my cheeks to his jacket, I whispered into his coat. “I will always be with you. I promise you that.”
* * *
Jenny’s funeral was held on December 30th. Which is today. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The first thought that came to mind is Why the hell am I going to someone’s funeral? Someone MY AGE? And it’s the same answer as it is to my problem. Because that is life.
My pale skin seemed snow-white against the black knee-length dress I wore. The black tights made my legs look smaller than they really were and the lace sleeves did nothing to warm me up. But I had to hand it to myself: I looked beautiful. Its okay to compliment yourself every once in a while, isn’t it? I see no harm in it as long as you don’t go around flaunting it about.
I blink and slip on some shoes and go to the car where the family has been waiting for five minutes already. I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.” I murmured.
We arrived at the church that Jenny and her family—two younger brothers and her parents—attended fifteen minutes before the service started. Her mother—whom hosted hundreds of sleepovers for us embraced me without a moment’s hesitation. “Thank you for coming.” She whimpered into my ear. I held her tightly, tears leaking from my eyes.
“Where is…where is she?” I asked.
She pulled away, dabbing her already smudged makeup and motioned to the front of the church, under a life-size statue of Mary is where they lay my friend to rest. I strode—not confidently, not gracefully—but hastily and terrified. I knew she was gone, but I needed to see it for myself. I can’t just let her leave just like that. It’s not fair.
I got in line behind an elder woman who turned to me. She was not crying, nor did it look like she had. She looked at me and smiled. It was not a sad smile or a happy smile. It was a comforting smile. The woman turned back and whispered a few things into the casket before walking away.
I took an unsteady step forward and fell on my knees onto the kneeler provided beside the coffin. I stared at the girl—the young woman I have known for my entire life. Her face was peaceful; a small smile seemed to tease the corners of her lips. Her eyelids almost seemed to flutter a bit when I knelt down. A sob jumped from deep within me. She was gone. Not here anymore.
“Oh my God!” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. I stared up at the statue above me. Mary looked down at us with—with what kind of expression is that? Happiness? Saddness? Pain? Joy? What?! My best friend is lying in a casket, and Mary can’t make up what kind of expression to be wearing?!
Another sob shook me. “No,” I said, louder this time. “You can’t take her!”
My hand fell into the coffin, landing on Jenny’s cold one. I shrank away, afraid, but then I replaced it, taking hold of it. I stared at Jenny’s face, doing my best to ignore the tears hurrying down my face, and I attempted a smile.
“I-I’ll see you…I’ll see you soon, Jenny.”
Because I knew I would.
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Okay, Not gunna lie; I was really truly bawling as I wrote that last bit...
#PrayForBoston!
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please vote and comment! Thanks!! :D