2 June 2012
If anyone has any ideas on a second title if love to hear them! So I said I was having a break, but I missed writing.. I'm going away on Monday so I won't be posting after then but I'll still be writing! Keep looking out for these, they'll be posted randomly over the next week or two :)
I saw inside the hospital room assigned to my girlfriend. She lay on the white sheets in a backless dress in this pastel ward, her face dead and expressionless. The last time I'd been to this hospital was to pick Tiffany up after her aunt had died, and I remembered that that room was just down the corridor. I'd tried to ask the nurses if they could move her to another wing, after explaining that she wouldn't want to wake up and see this corridor, but they told me she was too critical to move. So I'd sat on this uncomfortable hospital chair for two weeks, not leaving this hospital once. I knew the names of everyone on the corridor, I'd spoken to every relative, I'd tried every style of coffee out of the machine and I'd learnt the names if every machine that Tiffany was connected to. Mollie came in most days, but never over night. I think it hurt her too much to see her best friend dependant on machines. Seeing Mollie in such a state made me wonder if I should be too, but the initial shock had faded with all this time of sitting here, and hearing the nurses tell me she'd be out of this coma any day now. They always told me about how impressed they were by my will to stay with her, and that I was the only member of her family to stay all the time. Her parents came every other day, mainly to drop clothes off for me, as my parents were in Europe. They always showed concern, but whether it was genuine or not I couldn't judge. I didn't know what to say when they came in: her mother maintained her calm and elegant mannerisms, and her father always looked like he should be somewhere else. It didn't seem like they'd realise that their daughter was in intensive care, and had been for two weeks. Maybe they just didn't want to face up to that fact. I enjoyed talking to her though. I enjoyed being able to hold her hand and be with her all the time. I wished she was awake though, and that she could respond to what I said; I tried to remind her that I loved her every hour or so, and my ears begged to hear her say "I love you too". I hoped she would, so I kept repeating that I loved her, hoping one time she'd hear and choose to respond. So far, she hadn't. I spent 70% of my day talking to her; but when she was like this, I sometimes got the feeling that I was simply talking to myself. Charlie came to see me a few days ago, and stayed all day. I knew he was only there to see Mollie, but it was nice that he'd bothered. He tried to convince me to come up to the Hamptons for a day or two, just so I could get out. "You must be going mad in this room all by yourself!" he joked, but not realising he'd just touched a nerve. "Tiffany isn't dead you know. She'll be coming round any day now." I said, sinking my head down and picking up her hand again. "Mate, I didn't mean that. I meant you don't have anyone to respond to your conversations and stuff. I didn't mean she wasn't dead yet. I didn't mean to say 'yet' either. She won't die mate, I know it. She's stronger than that." he recovered himself, just. Mollie came over, glaring down at Charlie in the process, and she put her arm around me, letting me rest my head on her hip. It was nice to feel someone holding me, and Mollie felt very similar to Tiffany: slim but slightly muscular, with soft skin that radiated a little warmth. Mollie gestured towards the door with her head, and Charlie quickly scuttled out, explaining that he was going to get a coffee for us all. Mollie pulled up a chair beside me, and put her arm around my shoulders, explaining that Charlie didn't mean what he said. "I know he didn't, but I don't know whether I'm going to have to start giving up on her soon. If she doesn't wake up, do I need to start living a normal life again?" "It won't come to that, just believe in her. You're doing everything you can, and you've web such a great support to her. She won't die, she can't die..." she said, her voice breaking and tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. For the first time in Tiffany's two week coma, I was finally realising that perhaps Mollie was wrong, and that perhaps Tiffany wasn't as strong as I thought she was. This was all my fault, and I knew that. I thought about it everyday, but I thought I might have time to repay her for all the pain I've caused her. Now however, I wasn't so sure I'd have that opportunity. My facade of happiness and positivity that had been raised up for the past fortnight suddenly dropped with my heart as I looked back at her blank face, and I felt teardrops running down my cheeks. I held Mollie tighter, and she squeezed me as hard as she could. I nestled my head into where her neck and shoulder met, and I cried harder, storm clouds floating in my mind and a constant melancholic tune coming from an imaginary grand piano in my heart. "I shouldn't have booked you that hotel suite" Mollie sobbed, "none of this would have happened" "Are you kidding? I should have resisted Isabelle, I should have been awake when she went into the shower, I should have protected her better." I said, a wave of sadness flooding through my mind as I remembered that evening's events. After Tiffany had fallen to the floor, I'd gazed after her, mouth open wide, not knowing what to do but to cry. I saw her hair smothered over her face, and blood trickling down the back of her neck and being soaked into her gown. As Isabelle saw the crimson waterfall the followed the contours of Tiffany's head, she ran, grabbing the master key that she'd stolen from the cleaners. She fled out of the door as quickly as I've ever seen anyone, and Jeremy lumbered behind her. I'd lay there in terror as I saw my girlfriend, motionless on the floor, blood pouring from a wound on her head. I pulled hard on the bits of material tying me down, and struggled to break them. I tried to rip them, but I somehow felt that I was breaking part of Tiffany, so instead I wrenched my arms from them, slipping them out underneath the maroon material that was keeping me from saving her. After a call to 911, and a call to Mollie, I lay next to her, cradling her bleeding head. Her eyes were shut, and she looked at peace. I stroked her hair off her face, so I could appreciate how beautiful she really was. Her olive cheeks had lost their sparkle, and her rosy pink lips had lost all their flush. I felt like she was slipping away: her colour was draining and so was my soul. I felt a sense of emptiness that I had never felt before, a sense that Tiffany was slipping away from me and there was nothing I could do. Minutes felt like hours, and every second that went by showed a change in Tiffany. She felt heavier in my hands, and I eventually shifted positions so I was cradling her like a baby. I rocked her and stroked a thumb over her forehead, closing my eyes so I could maintain a happier image of Tiffany in my head: I saw her walking down the white marble steps at the start of prom, looking straight at me and smiling. It was a sense of pride that I hadn't felt before: pride that I had such a beautiful girlfriend, and a sense of pride that she had chosen me over any other man in the room. I started to cry as I remembered her dress; red like the blood that was trickling onto my hands. I had her blood on my hands, which emphasised the pangs of guilt that ran through me. I'm still asking myself the same questions now: why didn't I save her? Why wasn't I more awake? Why didn't I tell her I loved her fast enough? If she doesn't make it now, she'll never know how much I really love her. That's why I started to say it when I was cradling her. "I love you so much" I repeated over and over, until between my sobs "Love you so" were the only words that made it past my lips.
Love You So 2: PART 1 • Opuss № I