Why is the Sky Sad?

The hospital smelled like death and medicine. It looked like it to. The walls were a snow white, the tile on the floor a sickly grey. The doors that started at the end of the hall were each brown, a painted silver number on the chest of every one. The chairs in the waiting room were a mix of colors both grey, white and brown, some spotted with unruly stains. But James appreciated the whole atmosphere; no one was pressured to talk and the few tear-stained people in the room kept to themselves. And in a stroke of luck, the majority nurses didn’t speak to him either, avoiding eye contact even. He was, thankfully, left in peace.

“Hon,” one overly friendly nurse, with skin the color of caramel turned to James, a practiced smile on her face, “You can go see your mother if you’d like. She’s awake.”

James shook his head for the second time that evening. Maria had been awake for the past hour, and he had been able to see her for much longer than that. But he didn’t want to see her. She’d abandoned him and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t forgive her for it. He’d wait to make sure she’d stay okay and then he’d leave. Richard was in the room with Maria anyways.

The nurse’s face fell, her smile instantly drooping. She wasn’t used to a son being so indifferent about his mother before. She had surreptitiously checked his arms for bruises earlier and hadn’t found any, but that didn’t mean his mother wasn’t verbally abusive. Maybe that’s why he opted to stay in the waiting room. She tried studying him, but he was like a closed book, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t read him.

James was never good at understanding facial expressions, so he gave up on the nurse, and went back into his own little world. He didn’t really care for her, and though part of him was worried about what she thought, the overpowering part of him couldn’t care less. He wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because he was so tired, and still had some alcohol in him, but it didn’t matter. It was freeing.

James felt guilty; it was an emotion that he wasn’t really accustomed to. He spent so much time alone that there was nothing he could really ever feel guilty about. But now he felt awful, guilty that he’d ruined Bea’s shoes, guilty that he had been too embarrassed to tell Emma to call a cab and guilty that he was sitting here feeling guilty and not spending time with his mother.

But he couldn’t make himself move, he was too scared to see her. He’d changed since she’d seen him last, and there was no doubt she changed to. She wasn’t his best friend anymore; she hadn’t been for a long time.

James tried his best not to think of the future. It seemed to depressing, would Maria stay or leave again? How would his father react? Too much had happened for things to go back to the way they’d been from when he was a kid. He’d become a freak.

Looking at the white walls, James never felt more alone.

*
His legs wouldn’t reach the floor, so James opted to stand. He was playing with his thumbs, circling them round and round each other waiting for Emma to return. He’d gotten to class early, went to the bathroom twice already to fix his hair- he’d gotten bangs last week, and was now stuck waiting.

Kids kept arriving, with new haircuts and new dresses and new toys, but James didn’t give them any part of his mind. He murmured his hello, just to be polite, but as soon as they left his eyesight, he went back to thinking of Emma. She was so perfect, pretty, nice… Perfect.

She’d played with him every day at recess before break, and was broken up with Dirk. She had ignored him for a whole week! Things were looking up for James, soon they’d fall in love and be married and have their own kids. They’d live in a big, big house, right next to his mother’s and they’d live happily ever after. Just like his storybooks. And Dirk would still be living with his mom.

He couldn’t wait until she was back, and then he could tell her everything. She would be so happy. He sighed, whispering another hello to some girl in his class. He forgot her name, but it didn’t matter. Not when he knew Emma’s name.

He anxiously looked up at the clock, his foot becoming all jittery. Hurry up, C’mon hurry up! Time was running out before school actually started.

He distracted himself by looking up at the artwork his teacher hung above the door. There weren’t any pictures he drew, for he wasn’t much of an artist. All he could really accomplish would be drawing a polar bear in a snow storm- that’s to say nothing. The teacher only wanted to display the art that she was proud of. James had received any project he had done, and his mom kept them in a drawer in her room. She claimed that she didn’t want them to get ruined, but James knew it was because it didn’t match the décor.

Emma had pictures on the wall, three, one dinosaur, one rainbow, and one rainstorm. She liked the rain, James wasn’t sure why. He hated it.

James anxiously looked down the hall, turning away from the artwork. School started in three minutes, Emma had to be coming right about now.

And sure enough there she was, hand in hand with Dirk. James just about fainted.