Wonderwall

not my best work, im still learning.

Wonderwall

  It’s icy outside. Oh so very icy. And I do not want to fall. So, I am extra careful as I walk down our front steps.

   But I slip anyway. Damn leg.

   I know that I should go to the hospital; the stump that is left of my right leg seems to be bleeding which I have been told is not good. But, I don’t want to go to the hospital.

   And so I sit there. And I do not move. It is very cold. And my leg is very hurt.

   Eventually a neighbour sees me and calls 911. An ambulance arrives. I am awkwardly placed on a stretcher. When they ask me my name I tell them not to take me to the hospital.

   I beg, I plead. I ask to go to a doctor’s office, another hospital, just not Ridgeview Regional Hospital, just not that one.

   They take me to the hospital anyway.

   I struggle as they wheel me in. I cannot go in there. I cannot. I kick and scream much like a toddler would. So they stick a needle in my arm. I fall asleep.

  When I awake I am in a hospital room. It looks like Rose’s hospital room. There is the same scratchy feeling of sheets and the same light blue hospital gown. The same quiet sounds of nurses chatting as they pass by, the same beige colour on the walls and the same green tiled floors. I remember the same smell of antiseptic and medicine and clean things. Things that are too clean for their own good.

   I begin to cry. An empty sort of crying, the kind that make your heart feel hollow. I cry because I love Rose. But I cannot love her in the same way as I did now that she’s not here.

   I remember how we met as tears fall down my cheeks. It was at a concert. I don’t remember what concert, because I went to so many when I was young. My life was made up of two components back then; music and the aspect of getting into the military someday.

  I remember her long, red hair was curly and wild. Her lips were cherry red and her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were the brightest things I’d ever seen, brighter than the brightest of stars, so full of life, so full of energy. That is the one word to describe her. Full, so full of every possible thing. She jumped up on stage and began singing Wonderwall by Oasis.

   After that, my life was made up of one component; Rose.

  Saying that Rose and I are perfect for each other is an understatement. It was the best kind of love that we had. Even when we were separated, even when we fought it was still okay because we always knew it would end. That’s why it is such a good love. Because we both always knew. With one look we could have an entire conversation.

   And we were happy together, in whatever mood or state we are in, we are always happy. Even when we were fighting, which was not an unusual occurrence- even when we didn’t speak for what seemed like eternity- we were still happy because we knew that we would be back to each other soon enough. And it is great because we could both be who we are, Rose could be a singer and I could be a soldier. Just so long as we were both each other’s.

   But of course, the best loves are the hardest ones. Rose’s work of being a singer; writing songs and travelling around the world to perform them, combined with my life of being in the army; having to leave behind everything for years at a time on the shortest notice made it very hard to settle down in one place or have children.

   Even on that faithful day when I was deployed and the base I was stationed at was attacked and I was a thread’s width away from dying which lead to my leg eventually getting amputated was nothing compared to that awful sinking, falling, drowning feeling when Rose and I were informed that she had terminal breast cancer. They gave her mere months to live. 

   But at least then we were still together. Even in the hospital, even when times got so rough and I had to strain to see the Rose that I remember and love, the one with the bright eyes and the singing voice, we still had each other.

   I think I fall asleep at one point during my trip down memory lane, because the next thing I know a nurse is looking down at me. It takes me a second to realize that I know this nurse; this is Mur, the nurse that was with us since the second Rose walked into her first chemotherapy session right up until that beautiful last night that Rose and I spent together.

   I honestly think that every moment in my life had only been leading up to that perfect night.

   People think I knew. But I honestly did not; I simply came up with the idea to do something nice for Rose, to give her hope. I made up a mix tape of all of our favourite songs, on the oldest tape I could find. Wonderwall by Oasis was the first and last song, it had become our anthem over the years, the song that Rose was always humming and singing, the song that I would listen to when I was deployed and was missing her. I somehow found a way to get the huge stereo that was the first thing Rose and I bought when we first moved in together into her hospital room.

    I set it up as she was sleeping, and then lifted her frail, fragile body off of the scratchy sheets as Wonderwall began to play. It was late, and I was holding her body up most of the time, she was so weak. My head was buried in her red hair and we moved around the room soundlessly until the tape had played over countless times. I looked at her face and realized she needed her sleep. I remember looking up as I gently set her down on the bed to see a gathering of almost every nurse who worked at the hospital around the door. Most of them were crying quietly. Mur was smiling, with streams of tears rushing down her face. I fall asleep next to Rose.

   Early the next morning, I was awoken with a rush of activity. The doctors tell me Rose doesn’t have much time, that I should say goodbye. They all file out of the room after that.

   Rose opens her eyes, still bright green, brighter than the brightest star. She smiles that sweet, beautiful, amazing smile. She says;

   “You’re my everything.

   “My Wonderwall.”

   Those are her last words.

   But right now, Mur is gathering me up into a hug. She is saying how long it’s been, how many years. She’s asking me how I’m doing.

   I can’t lie to Mur. So I only give her a sad smile. She asks how I can do it- how I can keep living after the love of my life is gone forever. And so, I tell her:

   “I have a theory. For every second of pure and utter happiness we experience, we also have to experience one second of bottomless despair. Every second that Rose was mine, for every second that we were together, I was so much more than just happy. So now I have to experience this pain that is beyond sadness. But it’s okay, because all this suffering is more than worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing. I would trade one second of the feeling that engulfed me whenever I was with Rose for an eternity of sorrow.”

   She starts crying like she did that night, and she says how lucky Rose was. And she sits with me for a long time, until the doctor says I can go home. Mur offers to drive me home, and I accept. She smiles a lot on the way home, and we share memories of Rose. She says I should come and visit her at the hospital sometime. I nod.

   We reach our house, and she helps me up the icy steps. I thank her. She gives me a long hug and I can feel her sobbing against me. She’s still smiling as we pull away though, and she says that even though Rose is gone, her spirit is still with me, inside me. She says she can feel it.

   Once I am back inside our house, I walk over to that old stereo. I press play.

   “And all the roads we have to walk are winding,

   And all the lies that lead us there are blinding.

   There are many things that I would like to say to you,

   But I don’t know how.

  Because maybe,

  You’re gonna be the one that saves me.

   And after all,

  You’re my Wonderwall.”

 

Author's Note

some criticism would be awesome for this, I'm sick and tired of people telling it's good when it's not.

Reviews

[stopeatingmychicken]

I Actually read the hole thing, I noticed some small errors but jess. Your so doubtful in yourself but this is actually exquisite. Its perfect, Keep writing. And please..please please Stop eating all my chicken.
ps..n***A