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- 04/10/2011
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Ashes Of Another Life - 2. Standstill
Talking to someone who is never going to respond should have gotten old fast, but it didn’t. I’d known Justin since I was twelve years old. I’d been with him for almost a year before his accident. I found out early on that I didn’t need him to answer to have a conversation with him. I knew his reactions better than I knew my own, but that’s not why I could do it every day, even after months.
I needed it. I needed to be there. The doctors had said that they’d seen patients come back—not often, but it did happen—and I was holding on to that with everything I had. I didn’t really believe all the rest of the shit they fed me about Justin being able to hear me, but I had to hold on to the hope that he’d wake up eventually.
Justin was…alive. That’s what I got out of going to see him, and talking to him every day. He wasn’t hooked up to a machine that breathed for him, and he was no longer covered in bandages and casts. His wounds had all healed, sealed up into shiny pink scars over his head and arms. A few on his chest and back.
He never responded to me in any way at all, but he was breathing. He was alive. That was enough. I’d long since stopped believing he could actually hear me, didn’t entertain thoughts that he was ‘there’ with me, but I never stopped coming to talk to him. He was alive. I wasn’t leaving.
“Mrs. Marcus had another baby over the summer,” I told him flipping through the pages of my notebook. Or…his notebook. I didn’t ever say anything worthwhile to Justin when I was talking to him out loud. I saved that for the book, so he could see it when he woke up and I wouldn’t have to wonder whether he could hear it. I’d know.
When I visited him…the only reason I said anything at all was to make sure—just in case he could hear—he was hearing my voice. He’d know I was there. He’d know I was waiting. I sat next to his bed in the uncomfortable green hospital chair, ignoring the way the fabric scratched against my skin even through my shirt every day. And I talked about absolutely nothing that mattered.
“I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of a plot for world domination,” I went on. “If she keeps going like this, her kids are going to outnumber the rest of us three to one by the time we’re forty.”
There was no response from the bed. There never was. But I laughed anyway.
“I know,” I said, chuckling. “It’s totally gross.”
I was ninety percent sure Justin wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t think Mrs. Marcus’ incessant breeding was gross or inappropriate at all, but whatever. He couldn’t contradict me.
Visiting Justin was something I hated and loved in equal parts. Or…loved might be the wrong word.
He couldn’t hear me. I knew that. Justin would never listen to me cry and just lay there, immobile and impassive. I didn’t care that it wasn’t a choice. If he could hear me, he would have worked his ass off to get better. To come back.
Maybe, that wasn’t fair. I just didn’t care. Either Justin couldn’t hear me, or my words were lost on his damaged brain.
I hated the room. It was where I’d made the worst memories of my life so far. Not one good one. There was a promising moment a month back when Justin had opened his eyes, but even that turned out to be another disappointment. Raised my hopes for a shining three minutes and seventeen seconds before a nurse came in and set me straight. Nothing but nerves or some bullshit like that. I couldn’t even pretend it was a reaction to something I’d said or done. I wasn’t even there when it happened.
The rooms at the hospice were shared; everyone had a roommate for the most part, even Justin. But the bed next to Justin’s was empty for the time being. His last roommate had just moved out.
They always moved out. They always woke up.
Not Justin, though. Justin slept on, oblivious. On my darker days…I think I hated him for it.
On my better days, if they could be called that, I missed him so much I wanted to be stuck in a perpetual sleep with him. I was stuck anyway. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Months or years or more down the road when Justin finally woke up and everyone else had graduated and moved on and away, I’d still be here. Waiting. Exactly the same person, in the same place that he left me.
“Conner,” Nurse Sheri greeted me brightly when she walked into the room. I knew all the nurses on Justin’s floor by name. There was Sheri, Claire, and Mark in Justin’s zone. I knew Sheri best because she worked the evening shift when I came for visiting hours. Mark worked overnights, and I’d only met him a couple times on nights I came to the hospice after hours and begged to be allowed in to see Justin. Claire worked mornings and…I avoided Claire. She looked at me like I was something terrifying. Like some freak accident out of a tragedy that everyone was afraid to even look at.
Sheri loved me, though. And Sheri loved Justin, so she was awesome as far as I was concerned.
“How was your first day?” she asked as she moved toward Justin and pulled his blankets back. Sheri came in every two hours like clockwork. Justin had to be turned frequently to keep him from getting bedsores. He’d had a couple before Sheri was transferred to his floor. They were disgusting, deep, gaping wounds but he hadn’t had one since she got there. So I loved Sheri too.
“My Participation in Government teacher is trying to take over the world,” I responded with a grin, as I closed my notebook and stood up, stepping away from the bed to give her space...
Sheri chuckled. “On the first day? That’s ambitious.”
“No rest for the wicked,” I replied.
She snorted and rolled her eyes at me, as she pulled Justin’s arm up from the bed.
“Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat while I get him cleaned up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
Sheri was also my mom’s favorite nurse. I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I ate lunch at school,” I told her. And yeah, it was a lie, but seriously. I wasn’t starving myself. I just genuinely wasn’t hungry as much as I used to be.
“You can go get dinner here, or you can go home and join your mother.”
I rolled my eyes, but I got up to leave the room. I never fought her long. I was pretty sure Sheri had broken more than one rule for me in the time that I had known her. I never gave her any trouble.
“The upside to you being comatose?” I whispered to Justin, setting my notebook down on his bedside table. “You don’t have to suffer through shitty hospital food.”
Sheri laughed. “It’s good for you,” she called after me as I exited the room.
I greeted the charge nurse on my way off the floor, and I held the elevator door for a guy in a wheelchair, offering him a smile when he thanked me.
I hated Justin’s room, but I didn’t so much mind being in the hospital. It was nice. No one expects you to be bright in a hospital. Especially not when you’re there as much as I was. If my smiles were a little off, no one said anything. If I was quiet more than I should have been, no one tried to make me talk. It was easy.
I made my way to the sandwich line when I got downstairs to the cafeteria. The food wasn’t actually that bad. I normally just got a sub, which you pretty much can’t get wrong. Turkey, lettuce, tomato…it was pretty simple. It was way better than school cafeteria food, at any rate.
“You eating down here?” The cashier asked me as I handed her my cash when I came to the end of the line.
“It’s bed bath time,” I replied, shrugging.
She gave me a kind smile and handed me a cookie wrapped in plastic wrap. It was a nice gesture. I never had the heart to tell her I didn’t particularly like cookies. Besides, Kylie thought I was the best big brother ever when I gave the cookies to her.
“Thanks,” I said, with a nod when she handed me my change. I turned away in search for a seat before she could respond.
“Conner? Hey, it’s Conner, right?”
I turned back around, but it wasn’t the cashier that had called me back. There was a little girl. Like…a really tiny girl. She had long blonde hair, a round, oval face that pointed at the chin, and bright, wide blue eyes. She’d have looked all of thirteen years old if it weren’t for the heavy make up, and daring outfit. And yeah, I’m gay, not even curious about girls, but there are some shirts that make it impossible not to look. And okay, maybe a little older than thirteen.
I wondered how difficult it’d be to find and burn all clothes like that before my sister got to high school.
“Uhm,” I said, frowning. “Yeah?”
“It’s Ashley,” she said, laughing as she stepped forward, juggling her tray, a bottle of water, and a purse. “I’m in your economics class. You run, right?”
I didn’t even bother to hide my responding eye roll. Thanks very much for bring that up.
“Yeah, right,” I said, looking around for the easiest route out of this conversation. “Is there something…?”
“Oh,” she said, smile melting off her face. She even took a step back. “No, I was just…saying hi. I didn’t expect to see anyone from school here.”
“It’s the only hospital in town,” I pointed out, cringing. Not at her, but at me. I’d apparently forgotten how to talk to anyone that could talk back to me.
“Right,” she said with a shaky chuckle. “Right, so uhm…see you around school?”
She stepped further back, eyes shifting around, apparently just as eager to get away as I was.
She was pretty. A really pretty, normal kind of girl. She was nice, and I couldn’t even say hello correctly.
Also, economics? It was the most recent class in memory, and the teacher had gone to the trouble of making us all introduce ourselves and I couldn’t remember seeing her. I knew every nurse on staff, more than a few doctors, the entire cafeteria staff, but I hadn’t bothered remembering a single name during school. It was only the first day, but still…
I sighed, watching Ashley make a beeline for the exit as I found a place to eat. Alone. Where no one would expect me to have a conversation.
I wolfed down my sub in no time at all. I never realized I was hungry until after I started eating, and wondered if I’d eat at all if no one reminded me. I considered the possibility that Sheri and my mom might actually have a reason for getting on my case all the time and I promised myself I’d eat the Poptarts I’d stashed in my bag as soon as I got back upstairs to Justin.
“Sheri,” I said when I re-entered the room, immediately throwing myself back in my chair. “I’ll start leaving you tips or something if you’ll start bringing me lunch so I never have to go down there again. You could just…pick something up while you’re getting lunch for yourself. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
Sheri shook her head. “Can’t do it, kid. Sorry.”
“You could if you wanted,” I pressed. “I’d never tell another soul. Except Justin. And he’s not telling anyone any time soon. ‘Sides, who knows if he even has a soul anymore.”
Everything inside me went cold as soon as the words left my mouth. I didn’t mean them. I was sure I didn’t. I just…I wasn’t thinking. My chest clenched painfully and I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I wanted nothing more than to take it back.
“Hey,” I said, reaching out to grab Justin’s hand. I wouldn’t have done it in front of Sheri if I’d taken a second to think about it. But…clearly I was having some trouble with the thinking before speaking thing.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed, gripping his hand tight. Sometimes, I thought if I held on tight enough it’d feel like he was squeezing back. But his hand hung, limp, lifeless in mine. I just gripped tighter.
Sheri’s eyes had lost their smile when I looked up at her. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and I just…I shut down. I did that a lot. I actually liked Sheri, but a big part of that was probably because she let me get away with verbally bashing her or shutting her out and didn’t give me shit for it.
“Conner…” she started, gentle and soft. So fucking careful.
“It was nothing,” I cut her off, clean, avoiding her eyes.
“It’s okay to talk to him,” she went on. “He might be—,”
“Yeah, I know,” I stopped her again, because I was really tired of hearing that sentence. He might be able to hear me. Bullshit. I sighed before continuing. “I just…didn’t mean to say that.” I let go of Justin’s hand and slid back into my seat, picking up my notebook. I’d talk to him there. Where he’d actually get to see it. Eventually.
“I know,” she said, letting out a breath. “I know you didn’t.”
I didn’t say anything. I pulled a marker from my pocket and started doodling on the back, cardboard side of my notebook, ignoring her for the rest of the time she was in the room.
“Justin’s getting another roommate tonight,” she told me as she threw away her gloves, and started pushing her cart back out into the hall. “A boy your age is in for surgery right now.”
“Neat,” I responded caustically, without looking up. It sucked. Sheri really wasn’t my problem; she hadn’t even done anything wrong. I just wanted her gone. I wanted her to stop talking to me, just for a little while, and the attitude was the only way I knew to accomplish that. This was why no one tried talking to me anymore. I didn’t know how to be around them, so I was a dick until they got fed up and walked away. Sheri would be back though. She always was.
“Give me a holler if you need anything,” she tried once more as she stepped out of the room.
I didn’t respond. I let her walk out without another glance in her direction.
I looked up at Justin. He lay on the bed, body turned to face me, thanks to Nurse Sheri Cole. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Right,” I scoffed. “Like you could handle this shit any better.”
“Come on,” I said, straddling Justin’s lap on my living room sofa. I grabbed both of his wrists and pulled as I moved back, sliding my feet to the ground and tugging him with me. “We can’t just sit here all day. There’s gotta be something we can do.”
“We’ve lived here our entire lives,” Justin replied with a sigh, but he stood with me anyway. “There is nothing we haven’t done yet.”
“But I’m bored,” I whined, pouting shamelessly. “Let’s go find a slug and try and convince all of Anthony’s friends that they’ll have superpowers if they eat it.”
“What if Anthony tries to eat it?”
I laughed, liking this plan more and more as we talked about it. “It’s okay,” I assured him. “My phone has a camera. I can film the whole thing.”
“Conner!” He scolded with a snort, shoving me away. “That’s not what I meant. My mom will kill me.”
“Oh, come on, she will not.” I waved him off. “She’ll kill me. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Sure,” he replied with a roll of his eyes, tone caustic. “I’ve been trying to get rid of you for so long anyway. Might as well.”
“Pussy,” I said, smirking. “You know you’re gonna do it. You’re gonna back me up. You always do.”
Justin glared at me, crossing his arms over his chest, like he was actually going to hold his ground. I smiled, reaching down to thread my fingers through his. I could see right through him, and I skipped the rest of the argument, desperate to get out of the house and do something. Anything. I could never hold still for long and routine made me feel like I was stuck in a box too small to even spread my arms. Gave me a claustrophobic feeling that made my chest feel to heavy to breathe.
Justin knew that, and if he wasn’t offering any alternatives, I knew he’d go along with me. He always did. He’d seen me freak out once and it hadn’t happened since. He just always went wherever I did. That we were arguing about it at all was just for show.
*
“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good of my entertainment,” I told the slug, where it sat on a piece of cardboard. I tried picking it up with my hands but that just wasn’t going to work. I was pretty sure the sticky, viscous fluid it left behind was going to be on my fingers forever.
“You’ll be remembered,” I went, ignoring Justin’s incessant chuckling behind me. “You’re sacrifice will be honored and—dude, will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to…”
“To what?” Justin asked when I trailed off. “You’re such a freak.”
“Whatever, let’s just do this.” I gripped the cardboard box tighter in my hands and moved past Justin to start on my way to his house.
Justin laughed the whole way, bright and happy, eyes watering with mirth. And I didn’t want to—I wanted to pout more about my failed speech—but I smiled privately along with him, ducking my head to be certain he couldn’t see it. The slug thing was definitely lame, but the whole point was to get a laugh out of it. We hadn’t even done it yet and Justin was more amused than I’d seen him in a long time.
His little brother didn’t eat the slug, but we got one of his friends to bite into it, and Justin even held the camera when I started laughing too hard to keep it steady.
It was a good day. Even after we left Anthony to console his friend—right around the time Justin’s mom showed up to investigate. We ran from his house, chest heaving with our panted laughs. We showed our new favorite video to everyone we crossed paths with, and that night when I was going to sleep, Justin called me again for no other reason than to laugh in my ear just a little bit more.
I ended up getting yelled at when Justin’s mom called but it was totally worth it. It was a good day.
I snorted in the hospital moving my chair closer to the bed, leaning my elbow on the mattress and sliding my hand down to tangle my fingers with his.
“I bet I could get Tony to eat a slug,” I told him, but I wasn’t laughing. “Would you wake up to see it?”
I sighed as I got up and stretched before leaning over the bed to kiss Justin’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whispered, and walked out the door.
This was all I did anymore. I wasn’t coming up with new schemes to make Justin laugh, or trying to find new ways to keep myself entertained. I ran. I went to see Justin. That was all I ever did, same thing every single day.
*
That night you got hit…sometimes, I think I’m still there, asleep in my room. Sometimes I think maybe I’m the one that’s gone vegetable and this whole thing is some kind of drug induced hallucination, and maybe you’re the one waiting for me to squeeze back.
But mostly, I think I’m crazy now. Unfit for normal human interaction. And I think it’s because of you.
-
8
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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