Them

(The end to Her and Him)

"Wake up, son. It's time for school."

Dave opened one eye slowly and with much pain. He focused on his dad who was bending over him with a smile that had a little more meaning than before the fight. After his dad had arranged the window blinds so that the sun would shine through, he left Dave to his privacy so he could began his daily routine of rising. First he had to shake his arms for a couple of minutes before they were warm and would register the command of movement, then he had to swing his numb legs over the side of his bed and slide into his wheelchair which, all together, took about half an hour. With that done, he could wheel himself over to the mirror where a slightly disfigured face looked back at him with one permanently closed eye, one small scar curving into his left nostril, another larger scar under the closed eye, and an upper and lower lip that didn't line up perfectly. Apart from these facial details and his paralyzed legs, he was perfectly functional and still fairly handsome.

Even though he had endured a number of successful surgeries and had made an impressive recovery, Dave still awoke every morning with a deep, penetrating feeling of anguish that came with being handicapped. His mom unintentionally made the situation worse when she corrected everyone withhandicapable, but that was easy enough to forgive. There were other problems he couldn't solve which continued to eat away at him every day. Both his parents gingerly probed him with questions about what was bothering him, but he never could spit it out. He knew exactly what it was, and he was going to put an end to the pain that afternoon.

Without telling her why, Dave had asked his mother to drop him off at the mental hospital a few miles out of town. He knew she would ask a million question, but he also knew that ever since the fight, she was very careful not to put any more stress on him. One of his friends who joined in the fight hadn't expected it to get so carried away, and after he had heard about Dave's disabilities, he killed himself the same night. Even though the boy had helped put Dave in a wheelchair, he didn't feel that this was justice. In fact, it made him sick to his stomach for many weeks. It was a shock to the whole school to learn about both the boys, and everyone showered Dave with sympathy and encouragement. Everyone except one.

Dave's mom helped him out of the van that was wheelchair functional, then she looked at him with worry written all over her face as he wheeled his way into the doors of the mental hospital. There was nothing left for her to do but sit in the parking lot and wait for him. Dave, however, began to feel a straining tension rise up into his throat. He felt a surge of anger burn his cheeks and had to stop himself from grinding his teeth. How could everybody forget about her? She is the whole reason everything had happened, but somehow every one was only interested in the two boys! The truth was probably that she had kept it all a secret,and the boys who beat him up were definitely going to stay quiet, but still, why did she do it? How could she possibly think it would make things better? He wasn't looking for her to repay him. Her friendship would have been enough. No. She had to try to commit suicide. What good would that do?

With these thoughts filling in his mind, his anger boiled into a passionate fury. Hot tears streamed down his face which only made him more agitated. He knew exactly what he wanted to say to her. He wanted it to sting her core. How dare she be so weak and inconsiderate. It was stupid to think taking her life would revenge the taking of his. That's not why he did it. That's not what he was aiming at.

"Miss. Coolage's room, please." As he said her name, a flashback hit him from when he saw it in the paper. Fifteen year Melisa Coolage was found in the girls' bathroom at H.K. high school last Saturday morning. She was unconscious and had evidently tried to commit suicide by means of overdosing on pain killers. Fortunately, she was found in time and resuscitated. Her parents can't give any reason as to why..."

"Room 324."

He thanked the woman behind the desk and headed off in the direction of her room with a nurse accompanying him. Over and over in his head he rehearsed what he was going to say: What were you thinking? How could you do it? I didn't know you that well, but how could anybody be so stupid?The tirade went on and on, lecturing her on how suicide was the worst choice she could have made, and then gently telling her that it was worth it to stand up for her, only to end with another burst of outrage. He was steaming by the time he reached her door. The nurse knocked, looked in the long rectangular window, then pushed open the door.

"Miss. Coolage. You have a visitor."

Dave had to wait for the nurse to move out of his way before he could enter. He had only just noticed how sweaty his hands were. They couldn't keep a tight grip on the arms of his wheelchair which he also didn't realize he was doing. His breathing was heavy but restrained, and his heartbeat was in his ears. He was ready. He was going to be hard, but not too hard.

When the nurse stepped aside for him to enter, he rolled in, confident and prepared to give her an earful, but his voice was cut off before it could even utter a word. The door shut behind him and Missy slightly lifted her head. She was wrapped tightly in a straitjacket and sitting on a plain cot. Both her feet were on her bed and her face was smashed between her knees facing the opposite wall. Her hair, as always, was dangling in front of her. She was much skinnier than Dave remembered.

"Oh my God." Dave couldn't muster anything else. He was taken aback by how vulnerable she was. She couldn't move her arms at all and she was surrounded by nothing but white walls and white sheets. Hearing his voice she turned her head towards him, and with a face that was shattered with guilt, she looked at him in disbelief. A small shriek forced its way out of her, and she instantly shot up and ran over to him. There was a short awkward moment of realization when she couldn't throw her arms around him, but he understood and hugged her around the waist. When he let go, she dropped to her knees so she could be of equal height, then she rested her head on his lap.

"Why?" Again words escaped him.

Without lifting her head to look at him, she said shakily, "I thought you were going to die."

Without thinking, he began to stroke her hair and run the back of his hand down her cheek. She was such a sad sight, but even in her saddest hours, she was beautiful. There was something about her that reminded him of an injured bird, and then he thought to himself that she, too, was handicapped in some sort of way. He hated the thought of it. There was still a desire to protect her; especially now as she opened up to him completely with tears that soaked his leg. There was nothing he wanted more than to walk out of the hospital with her, both of them normal and happy, starting a fresh lifelong friendship or maybe something more. He wished it so much that it ached in his chest.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

No more words were exchanged between them. Her last words broke his heart, and all he could do was hush her with his hand still stroking her hair. If this is what it took to win her friendship, he would relive it every day. And he did. Not a day went by without him visiting her. Neither of them had made a full recovery, but something much weaker within them healed to fully and entirely.


© Mikal Minarich