I had always hated hospitals. The smell alone was enough to put anyone off. The food was atrocious, enough to make anyone sick. How they crammed eight, sometimes ten patients into one small room, made me feel uncomfortable. I didn't have a fear of hospitals, I was just afraid of getting sick from a hospital. I walked towards the reception desk, and they sent me to the third floor. I greeted Denise and Lewis.
Denise had short, dark hair. Her face was slim and red, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. I felt sorry for her. I looked to her left, and saw Lewis; his hair was short and gelled. He was wearing a pair of black jeans, and a blue denim jacket covered in badges.
"He's just in there," Denise pointed at the room opposite.
"Thanks," I said. "Thank you for calling me."
"Oh, he insisted," she said, and I smiled.
"So you're the one who's been staying in my old room," Lewis chuckled, reaching out for a high five.
"Ha. I guess," I replied. "Thanks for letting me stay there."
"No problem, dude," he said.
"There are a few nurses with him right now, but they shouldn't be too long. You can go right in," Denise added, pulling a smile.
The hospital room was dirty and lacking beauty as I'm lacking hope. The walls were an off-white colour. No patterns, or flowers on them. Just painted white, that has faded over time. Apart from the dull, green curtains, and cards, it was the only source of colour in the room. The curtains reminded me of grass or faded memories of the Spring. There were no decorations or anything that could make the room stand out from the others.
A limp television hung from the ceiling, and an ancient CD player was shoved in the corner, with stacks of old CD's next to it. At the far end of the room were windows in metal frames that were beginning to rust. Two nurses were surrounding his bed, checking his IVs, and heart monitor. I explored the room whilst the nurses did their check-ups. On a counter in the left of the room was an abundance of 'Get Well Soon' cards, and flowers of different colours. The only character the room had. Now I understand why people bring cards and flowers to patients; to brighten things up. When the nurses were finished, I pulled out a chair by his bed and stared dishearteningly at the ceiling.
I couldn't look at Cal. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't recognise him. His liver-spotted hands were full of bruises from his IVs, and a bulky oxygen mask covered the majority of his face. They had removed his glasses, and he looked like a total stranger. His skin sagged over his chin, and hospital gown. The sight of him like this, in this bed, made me feel horrible. Not only had I lost Poppy, but I had lost Cal too. I sank my face into my hands, and sighed resignedly, fearing the worst.
"Cae? Cae is that you?" Cal called out, his voice was soft, and deeper, due to the oxygen mask.
I looked up, smiled, and felt my lip began to tremble. "Yes... yes it's me," I said, my voice shaking.
He chuckled. "I'm glad you're here." He then placed his hand over mine.
"Cal... I don't know what to do... I don't want to lose you too," I leaned my head on the side of his bed, and let tears pour out.
"Eh, eh," he said, smacking my hand. "Don't talk like that. You're never going to lose me."
I shook my head as if disagreeing entirely. "If you go... I have no one else."
"What about Poppy?" he asked, and I felt my heart crack.
"No... you don't understand. I don't even think I have her anymore," I cry.
"Why not?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
"We argued... and... and... that's why it's so important that you get better," I stuttered. I was too tired and too emotional to explain how I was feeling.
"Cae, everyone goes at their own time. Now it's my time to go-"
"No, don't talk like that!" I yelled, clutching onto his hand. "You're going to get better. You have to. You just have."
He stared up at me and sighed. "Let me give you some advice."
"Okay..." I said, wiping tears from my eyes.
"If you love her, tell her."
I chuckled. "It's not as easy as you make it sound, Cal."
"Stop interrupting, and listen," he chuckled, prodding my shoulder playfully. I sniffled and nodded.
"If you love her, tell her. I know you're afraid of change, Cae. But sometimes change is a blessing in disguise. Tell her that you love her. Yell from the rooftops - yell it from the tops of your lungs. Because I'll tell you this. Once you let her go. For good. She won't come back. Don't let go of her for a second. You can't afford to let someone like that go," he said, sniffling.
"Can you promise me that?" he asked, rubbing the palm of my hand.
"I promise, Cal. I promise," I cried, and stared at the floor, my hand still clutching his tightly.
I remained to stare at the floor, rubbing the palm of his hand. I heard his hard, deep breaths echo the room. Until they stopped. I felt his hand slowly slip away from mine. I looked up, afraid of the worst. And the worst happened. He was gone.
I couldn't breathe. It was unbearable. I yelled and yelled, but my cries were of no use to him. He was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
For the second time in my life, I felt utterly lost. And I was afraid.