Be Myself! - 41. Second Chance

“You disappointed us, Oscar, more than I will ever be able to express. Or maybe not. Maybe this is exactly what you deserve.”

(...)

Becoming able to talk again was a surprisingly sudden process. After spending the best part of four days communicating via pen, paper, and grunts, I woke up on Friday morning to find my jaw considerably less swollen than the night before. It was able to open and close just enough for the sounds coming from my throat to take an intelligible shape. The wires around my jaw left a millimetrically precise gap for a straw to pass through, but it was enough for me to be able to pronounce most words. My lips had also healed enough to do their part in the whole speaking process.

If I had been more prepared for that moment, I would have made it so that my first words since getting into hospital were something memorable, belonging to a great work of literature that would be quoted for decades to come due to its deep wisdom or insight into the human condition (or something along those lines). This would have been a great opportunity for it. Instead, my return to the world of verbal communication caught me by surprise and I did not have time to properly prepare anything. I did not realise I was actually speaking until the words were out.

And so, the first thing I said after nearly a week of silence was a sad, mundane “my mouth hurts”.

“Yes, that’s to be expected now that you’re moving it,” the nurse answered rather mechanically. I had just managed the greatest feat of my recovery so far, but she seemed completely unaffected by it, like she saw something similar every day (which probably was the case, but still). “Are you in pain anywhere else? It’s still half an hour before I can give you another dose of painkillers.”

“I’m ok, I think.” But just as I said that, I felt my nose throb painfully. Although the last five days had almost returned my jaw to its normal size and shape, my nose was still at least twice as big as it used to be, and slightly crooked. The nurses reassured me it was normal, but they still checked my temperature three times a day just in case.

“Good. Your family will be happy to hear the news.” She smiled and left. My family. The Viñas’ had definitely become so over this last week. Oliver and Sam came every day after school, and their parents took turns staying with me during the rest of the day. Normally patients were not allowed to have visitors for so long, but the nurses decided to make an exception for me because of my circumstances. They thought it would be good to keep me distracted as often as possible.

During the first night I spent in my room, I had such horrible nightmares that the nurses had to force me awake. My heartbeats accelerated and my body moved in potentially dangerous directions. I almost dislocated the drainage tube and nearly suffocated in my own vomit. After such a close call, they decided that frequent visits from friends would do more good than harm to my general wellbeing.

Ms Savage did not take long to come. She usually stayed with me from nine until lunchtime, when Mr Viñas took over. He then would stay until Oliver and Sam arrived from school, and the two kept me company until dinner time, at which point the whole family would stay for about half an hour before finally heading home. It was a pleasant routine I quickly got used to. On that day, Ms Savage came into my room with a radiant smile.

“The nurse told me you can talk now! That’s great news!”

“Yes, it is,” I said proudly. It took a lot of concentration for me to articulate the words properly, resulting in me speaking slowly and with a funny accent.

“You’ll be out of here soon, you’ll see.” Ms Savage sat on the bed by my feet. We spent the rest of the morning trying to have a conversation. I quickly discovered that the fact that I had not used my jaw for five days meant that moving it too much too soon caused it to become stiff and sore, so I had to stop talking after every couple of sentences in order for my jaw to rest. At least Ms Savage was patient. She was so glad I could talk again that she did not mind having to wait to hear me doing it.

She was not saying it openly, but I knew she wanted to become a sort of new mother to me. Now that the Viñas’ were all I had, it was only natural. She observed carefully as the nurses took my temperature and changed the dressing on the huge line of stitches that crossed my abdomen. Ms Savage questioned the nurses on everything about taking care of me after I left hospital. She had even started to collect recipes for a balanced liquid diet, the kind of stuff I would have to survive on for the next three months.

I did my best not to compare this woman who celebrated every little achievement of my recovery with the woman who did not hesitate to slap me on the cheek and who gladly stepped aside to let her husband finish the job. But sometimes it was just impossible.

(...)

“They will never find you. We will keep up appearances, play the desperate parents. ‘Our son disappeared. He was probably kidnapped.’ Nobody will think of digging around our own backyard.”

(...)

Oliver and Sam came straight from school to visit me. My boyfriend held a giant basket full of teddy bears, chocolate, and colourful cards, which he promptly deposited by three other similar baskets on my windowsill. “I think this might be the last one,” he told me, coming to my side on the bed. “I think by now everyone at school who wanted to send you an uplifting message has done so already.” Oliver smiled. The baskets gave a nice colour to the otherwise bland décor of the room. “Should I get the new cards?”

“Yes, please.” Oliver’s smile grew when he heard me speaking, but Sam burst out laughing.

“Wow, you speak funny!” he exclaimed. Oliver was about to censor him when Sam started speaking with his mouth closed too. “Let’s speak funny together so you don’t feel like you’re a weirdo all the time!”

The three of us laughed. Oliver grabbed a pile of cards from the new basket and ruffled his brother’s hair. Sam pretended to be annoyed at this invasion of personal space, but returned the gesture when Oliver sat on a chair next to my bed to show me the cards. Sam hovered over his shoulders to spy on the cards.

“These are from a group of fourth year students… These are from our old geography class… There’s one from your chemistry teacher…” Oliver opened each card, checked the sender, and passed it to me so I could read it properly. “And this one is…” Oliver stared at the new card, not saying anything else or indicating he was about to pass it to me. Sam noticed something was going on and saved me the trouble of asking Oliver about it by reading the card out loud.

“Dear Oscar, we’ve had our differences in the past, but I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t want to be like your father. I’m sorry for being such an arse to you. Can we start over and be friends again? I guess being gay is not too bad after all. Get well soon. Wendy.” Sam stared at the card just like his brother was doing. Their resemblance was almost creepy. “Who’s Wendy? Why doesn’t she like gays? Is she one of those closet lesbians?”

“No… no…” I could barely gather enough concentration to speak. After such a traumatic rupture with my past, I did not expect a part of it to want to stay with me still. “Wendy was my girlfriend before I met Oliver.”

“Oh, no! My brother has a rival! Quick, quick, burn this thing before Oscar decides to cheat on you with her!” Sam urged Oliver, trying to pry the card from his hands. Oliver reacted quickly, though, and managed to keep the card out of Sam’s reach until the child got tired of losing this particular game and let out a frustrated pout. “I’m just trying to help!”

“It’s ok, I’m not going to cheat on anybody.” I tried to calm Sam down, but he did not believe me so easily.

“He can’t cheat on me, Sammy, we’re technically poly like mum and dad.” Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Are you? I thought only grown-ups could be poly.” Poor Sam looked genuinely confused. Oliver took pity on him.

“Of course not! Anyone can be poly! And who said I’m not a grown up?”

The ensuing mock-arguing-and-bickering that followed between the two siblings was an entertaining distraction. Sam even tried to claim he was in a triad with his plush unicorn and his favourite ninja doll. It was a good way of avoiding having to think about Wendy for a while.

Eventually, though, I would have to make a decision. Would I be prepared to give Wendy a second chance, despite everything she did to me in the past? How much was I willing to forgive? How much would I dare forget?

By the time the Viñas’ left for the day, I still had no answer.

(...)

“You were dead to us the moment we saw the truth on your computer. We are just making it official.”

(...)

We sat, just the two of us, in a little outside table of a popular café. It was a sunny day, and we had been there long enough to litter our table with a dangerous amount of empty coffee mugs. A thick manuscript with my name on the cover page was stacked on his half of the table, precariously close to an unbalanced tower of discarded mugs. This was not a date, but he surely made it seem like one: he wore a white shirt a few sizes too small that showed off his thin, but well-toned body, and let his hand gently caress mine for the better part of five minutes as he filled me in on the stories of his new life. His charming smile was the most familiar thing in this whole scenario, making him easily recognisable even after so many years. His hair was now cut short, but his eyes retained their wild, seductive gleam.

“And there’s so much more I’ll never be able to tell you…” he said, letting his statement hang in the air as he leaned back in his chair until it almost tipped over. “I really wish I could, but it’s better this way. For both of us.” The chair hit the ground with a sharp thud. He leaned over the mess of mugs and papers to look straight into my eyes. No longer playful. No longer smiling. “But there is one thing that I have to tell you: you were meant to die that day.” His words caused a chill to run through my spine. “You were supposed to die at the hands of your parents. This is the fate that was written for you when you were born. Except… at the last moment someone very powerful took pity on you. He saw everything you could accomplish, and decided you were worth the trouble of messing with fate. When he saved your life, he changed your entire destiny. And you didn’t disappoint.” He glanced pointedly towards the pile of papers resting on his side of the table. “Not many people are given a second chance like this, not even people like me. You’re one of a lucky few.”

He grinned. The mischievous twinkle returned to his eyes and he fell back on his chair. “But everything will be all right, this is just a dream after all. Although… ‘special’ dreams like this one have a tendency to become true… even if by the time they do we no longer remember them. I’ll tell you what: I have to go now, and that means taking this whole scene with me. But don’t worry, you’ll enjoy your next dream too! So much in fact, that you might want to remember it for future reference!”

He moved towards me again, grinning seductively in that irresistible way that was so characteristic of him. I felt compelled to move towards him too, until our lips met.

And then the whole scene dissolved in front of my eyes. I was suddenly sitting in a corner of a familiar bookshop. Actually, books were the only things I could see around me. The books formed a never-ending labyrinth of corridors. But I had already learned my way around them all.

“Oscar, we need your help.” A young guy with short and somewhat spiky black hair approached. He looked a lot younger than he really was. And he did not look happy. Though he never looked happy anyway.

“Sure, I’m coming.” I stood up and walked towards the guy, but just as I did the bookshop dissolved too, and I was pulled back to the real world by Joseph Schubert’s voice coming from the TV.