Caden's P.O.V.
I laid upside-down over the edge of my bed, throwing a small red ball against the wall and catching it when it came back to me. As far as I know, Simon is alive; alive and in the hospital. It's been about a week since I last saw him being loaded into the ambulance. My parents' foot steps up the stairs matched the rhythm of my ball hitting the wall and bouncing off my hard wood flooring.
Slowly my door creaked open, allowing my parents into the room. They had taken off the lock the night they found me. They looked somber and peaceful for once in the past month. Out of curiosity, I sat up and put the ball on my nightstand.
"Caden, can we talk to you?"
Why ask if you'd force me to either way?
"Yeah. Sure." They turned around and headed down into the dining room. On the table was my favorite meal- smoked salmon with butter mashed potatoes and vanilla custard. Odd, I know, but ever since I can remember I've loved that combination.
Confused, I sat down as my parents already had. They bowed their heads in prayer, and I sat uncomfortably quiet while I waited for them to finish.
I looked down at my plate, "What is this all about?"
"Caden," my father started, "Your mother and I have been doing some thinking."
That's dangerous.
My mom got straight to the point, "We would like to get to know Simon." She had quickly blurted her sentence.
"Let me get this straight. After hating him for weeks without knowing him- weeks of judging him without knowing him, like it says to notdo in the Bible, you want to get to know him?" I stood up, "Are you kidding me? Is this some sick joke? You made me think the only way to be with the man I love was to run away! And now you're practically asking me to forgive you for that?! You're telling me all this never had to happen if you had just opened your eyes sooner!?" I waved my arms around to enhance my point. Both of my parents cowered away.
"Son, we just didn't think it was right, but, but we noticed that since you haven't been allowed to see him, you've become so reclusive. You haven't spoken a word to us for almost two weeks." He tried to soften his voice to below his usual yelling tone, "We'd rather have a gay son than no son at all."
I sighed, "Well, if you want to get to know him," I crossed my arms, "Then let's go to the hospital."
"The hospital?" my parents spoke at the same time, looking up at me.
"Yeah, the hospital. Where Simon is still residing at because the cops you sent after us totalled not only the car, but his body as well." I sneered, although I wasn't entirely sure Simon was in the hospital, and went to grab my coat. They looked down, guilt undeniably splashed on their faces.
At least I finally get to see Simon again.
.
We rode in silence the entire way. Each bump in the road only reminded me of the flipped car and Simon's unconscious face. It made me want to throw up every time the memory passed through my mind. I tried to suppress the need for a paper bag by thinking about seeing Simon again. I thought about our first kiss, and how long I had been wanting to do that. I thought about how soft his lips will be when I kiss him again, and that I now know for sure that I'm in love with him.
Outside my window, dull bushes passed quickly by and the colorless clouds hung ominously in the sky. No little rabbits tried to dogde the only car on the road, and no one was out walking. It was as if the sole purpose of the universe's energy was to bring me to Simon.
.
After an hour of driving, we pulled into the Platte Canyon Medical Center parking lot. I was almost dreading walking into the hospital. What if Simon wasn't here? No, he has to be here. There's no way he wouldn't have found someway to talk to me or see me if he was out of the hospital. And he isn't dead, because the whole school would be buzzing.
I left my parents in waiting room chairs, and went to the front counter to find out what room Simon had been assigned.
"Excuse me, miss?" I tapped my hands on the counter. The nervous energy was sporadically coursing through me.
"Yes, darlin'? What can I do for you?" the nurse, who looked to be about twenty, winked at me.
I internally rolled my eyes. She must be a volunteer or something.
"I'd like to know what room my boyfriend is in."
Her face twisted into a pained smiled. She sighed, "Well, your boyfriend is one lucky guy," she chuckled, "What would his name be?"
"Simon. Simon Lewis."
"Oh right! The car accident kid," I cringed at the thought that a lower level nurse knew him by name, because of his injuries, but at least he was here and alive, "I'm so sorry about him. He's in room 428B-ICU."
The Intensive Care Unit? He must still be pretty bad then.
"So, floor four, correct?"
She nodded, putting a scan band on my arm, and called up the next person needing assistance.
.
I turned back to where my parents were sitting, their hands clasped together.
"He's still in the ICU." They looked up at me.
"What?"
"Simon," I choked, "He's in the- the ICU."
My mom stood up and reached her hand out to me, "Caden, I-"
"No," I stepped back, "Don't touch me. Let's just go."
We got into the elevator and I pressed the button for the forth floor.
Do I really want to see him? He's in ICU. He can't look good. He can't be good. No. I need to be there for him. No matter what.
The number sign in the elevator dinged to four. I mentally prepared myself a tiny bit more before stepping onto the scuffed tile floor. The hallway was barren of other people, but by the large, metal ICU doors were two plants- plastic, in case of allergies. I put the band on my arm up to the small scanner next to the doors, and the magnets clicked open.
The hospital smell of linoleum floors, latex gloves, and hand sanitizer was multiplied, and it almost knocked me off my feet with realization. Simon has been in this miserable place for almost two weeks, alone, without me. I wonder if he'll get better faster knowing I'm here for him.
My mom ushered me into the ward; apparently I had been standing in the door way for a couple minutes. The room was a circle, with the nurses desk in the middle and curtain covered window and sliding doors to the patient's rooms around the outside. Only two rooms weren't occupied.
A nurse in light purple scrubs got up from her computer, and walked towards us.
"Hello, my name is Lucy, and I'm the head nurse of this ward. Can I see your band?" I held out my arm, and she scanned it, "Who are you here to see?"
"Lewis, Simon."
Her lips became a thin line. Was he really in that bad a condition?
"His room is the third one from the left. I'm sorry." She turned around and went to check on a patient in another room.
I'm sorry?
My father put his hand on my shoulder, and my mother put her hand on my other. For once, I didn't shrug their hands off. I just started walking towards Simon's room. My hand wouldn't move to open the door; it just sat in the handle, shaking.
I won't cry.
I won't cry.
I won't cry.
"You two go first."
"Are you su-"
"Yes." I stepped away from the door, and they walked in.
I heard my mom gasp, and I cringed.
And then I heard Simon's voice.
"More visitors? You look familiar."
He's okay.
He's okay.
I opened the door back up, and stepped in.
Simon sat under the hospital douvet. His arm was in a cast, and it had a few signatures- most likely from his family and nurses. There was a bandage around his head and another I saw around his abdomen, peaking out of the bottom of his shirt. The cuts on his face were mostly healed, but a few deeper ones were still scabbed along his cheeks and arms. I could only imagine how his legs were scratched up.
"...Simon..."
He looked from my parents, and to me, "You know, you're the most familiar visitor yet."
Most familiar, what does he- No.. He can't have amnesia. He has to remember me. I love him.
"Simon," I stepped forward to the side of his bed, and sat on the chair next to it, "Did the nurses tell you what's wrong with you?"
"Hey, that's not fair. You don't get to know my name if I don't know yours." He smiled at me.
He does have amnesia. Damnit. This isn't fair. I just got him back.
"Son," my father gave a sympathetic look, "I'm so sorry."
"He's your dad? You two don't look alike." Simon pointed to my dad and I.
My mom turned sheet white.
Simon giggled.
He's like a clean slate. There's nothing there.
"Simon, don't you remember me?"
He looked directly into my eyes with a fierce concentration that startled me.
His face softened, "Nope. Sorry."
"Nothing? Not the kisses? Not the cancer? Not the crying? You don't remember me at all?" Tears burned the edges of my eyes. My parents left us in the room alone.
He shook his head no, "I-I'm really sorry I can't remember you."
"I guess I should go then. But, can I try one thing, Simon? One last kiss, for my sanity? You don't have to if you're uncomfortable with it."
"Wait, kiss me? My supposed mother told me I just broke up with my girlfriend."
His mother is using his amnesia to convince him he isn't gay? That's just ridiculous.
"But to tell you the truth," He whispered in my ear, "you are pretty cute."
I blushed, and looked from his eyes to his lips, and back to his eyes. He was so straight forward; It was odd seeing him without his insecurities.
He lifted my chin with his finger, "So I guess a kiss wouldn't hurt."
I smiled. At least if he never regains his memories, I'll have this last kiss to remember.
I sat on the edge of his bed, and cupped his face in my hand. Brushing my thumb over his cheek, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. They are chapped, but still soft, like always.
He pulled back and sheepishly grinned, "You're a good kisser."
I sighed. Time to go.
"Simon, you may never again remember me, but I just want you to know something. I love how you stutter when you're nervous and you sing you're heart out. I love how much you trusted me and how you taught me to really love. I love how you're eyes sparkle when you talk about your passions and your random spurts of courage. I love how you kiss me, and I love you. You're the one who made me a little less lonely." To his surprise, I kissed him one last time. It was like our first kiss. When his eyes weren't so wide from shock anymore, I turned to walk out of the door.
"Wait," He said. I couldn't turn around. I just stood, opening the door.
"W-wait. P-please. I remember."
Does he really?
I turned around.
His eyes were soft and familiar.
His face was stained with soft tears of joy.
He reached his hand out to me, and whispered one single sentence that brought me to my knees.
"Caden, you made me a little less lonely."