Imaginary

Two friends suffer through the toughest moment of their lives together.

I’m not sure what to do anymore. You lie there in bed, miserable and closed off. Like a dying light, you are fading from the world. That light that once sparkled behind your eyes has vanished. You're slowly and painfully leaving. I can’t help you. I need you.

If you go, I go.

I don’t want to go.

The rows of flowers and toys have marched into the room like a happy army only to be slowly defeated by the crawl of time. They try their best to liven the room, but it is a losing battle. They are being defeated by the hauntingly white walls and the stench of sterile death that maliciously clung to the air. Despite the months that have passed, I’ve not grown accustomed to the stench. Hope I never have to.

I need you.

I don’t want to go.

Your once golden hair disappeared, and with it, your smile. Six months in, I’ve seen you smile only three times. You smiled when I first arrived to sit by your side. You smiled and laughed when your favorite actor came in character. You laughed non-stop that day. I’m glad you never noticed the pain that lurked just behind his eyes, like a monster ready to strike. The last time you laughed was when your father entered the room with your favorite books and said he would stay and read with you until you got all better. I know you wanted your mom to be there. She wanted to be there. She just couldn't stop crying.

I need you.

I don’t want to go.

I remember the days when I could make you smile. I remember when we laughed and played all day. It feels like a lifetime ago. It may as well have been. I haven’t seen you smile in so long I have forgotten what it looks like. Your smile is an old artifact that once had meaning to people but now is lost to time.

I need that smile.

I need to be the reason you smile.

Please don’t go.

Please.

---

Jessica Williams stood in the vacated hospital room. The room that once belonged to her son. Some of the flowers that crowded the room have wilted while others battled on and retained their vibrant colors. Her long brown hair looked as if it had been assaulted by a bird. It was tangled, split, and unwashed. Her eyes were not doing much better. Her blue eyes were red and dark bags hung underneath them. Still, she powered forward. She had to. Slowly, she walked to the bed and took a seat on the white, wrinkled sheets. Looking down, she grabbed the brown, stuffed bear that sat near the pillow. Jessica looked into its dead, plastic eyes. She clutched it close to her chest. First came the screams. Then came the tears.

Reviews

[christina sherin]

very nice story.I can feel the every word i read.Very powerful article