Status: Complete
Short Story
Short Story
Everything happened so suddenly, and to my surprise, my head began to spin. I usually do well under pressure and am able to stay in control, but for some reason, under the circumstances, I felt myself lose it for a moment. The red lights blinked steady and strong above the entrance to the emergency room awaiting its next visitor. The call had come in only minutes before from the ambulance to man your stations, and to have everything well prepared by the time they came. The doors suddenly burst open and a strong wind from the storm outside blew into the tense room, and people came running in, surrounding the motionless figure that lay on the gurney with an oxygen mask strapped to their face. I witnessed the normal organized chaos of when an emergency patient is brought in, and saw the doctors calling directions to others as they wheeled the gurney away. The big doors swung closed behind them with the victim’s future, and I wondered what was happening on the other side of that door. I had a flashback of when it was me on the gurney, and shivered with fear of the horrid memory. By the look of the sullen faces around me, I sensed that everything had grown abnormally quiet, and felt my pager vibrate, alerting me to go visit a patient on the 4th floor.
I’ve lived in New Jersey my whole life. Growing up here with my parents and older sister are some of the most treasured memories I hold. I loved going to school and enjoyed going to church every Sunday morning with my family. I embraced the close knit, and loving community I was a part of, and I knew I would always be accepted there. I grew to love it even more after I lost my hearing and became permanently deaf. I remember the day it happened so clearly it still frightens me.
I was out late one night with some friends. It was pitch black out and me and some friends were hanging out with nothing do to. We started wandering around in the woods and I was scared. It was dark and I didn’t know where we were going. A cool breeze blew through causing the bare trees to sway. The occasional twig snapped beneath my foot causing me to jump, and I had a hard timekeeping my breathing steady. We plowed on, the leaves crunching beneath my feet. I wanted to turn back more than anything, for I had that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I didn’t know where we were, or how to get back, and I didn’t want to have to walk back through the woods by myself. We came across a clearing where there was a big fire pit. It was dirty, and full of old ashes. As we got closer to it, we found a pack of fire crackers sitting in the middle of the pit with a match on the side, as if someone left it there on purpose, and was going to come back for it. One of my friends quickly stuck the match, the fire producing an eerie glow on his face as he bent towards the fire crackers.
“Take cover!” He hollered, and everyone scattered in all directions. I was confused and overwhelmed, and began to run just as the firecrackers went off right beside me. I screamed at the deafening sound as I ducked and hid behind a bush. The aroma of smoke strongly hit my nostrils. I called to my friends to see if they were still there, yet didn’t hear my voice produce any sound. I called louder and louder, but still couldn’t hear a thing. Panic rose up inside of me and I began to scream. I saw flames rising from the firecrackers, licking the bases of the trees and beginning to envelop them. I knew I should’ve run, but I couldn’t make my legs move. The flames came closer and closer to me, so bright I could barely see anything. One of my friends came running up to me, looking fearful, and shouting at me, yet I could not hear her either. We ran out of the woods, the flames licking our heels, just waiting to swallow us up, unsure if our other friends made it out, or were still trapped in the forest fire. After that I was rushed to the hospital. The doctors said that I should be grateful it was only my hearing I had lost instead of my sight, for the flames were strong, or my life, for I could have gotten severely burned.
My mom was raging when she understood what had taken place, but as always, looked on the bright side of things, and was just happy to have me with her alive. She had taken such good care of me, helping me with the major transition, and did all she could to make things as easy and normal as possible. Even now when I think back on it, I don’t know how she did it. She was always so calm, and took everything with a grain of salt, and just kept pushing forward. I think that she got it from my grandmother Elise whom I was named after. She came over from Scotland and made a name a living all by herself. She was as strong as nails.
Despite my disability, I wanted to push forward like my mom, and was determined to continue my education and go off to college. I applied for a music/art scholarship to a college that specialized in teaching deaf young adults. Towards the end of my sophomore year, while my parents were attending a party at the house of one of their friends, a kitchen fire burned the whole place down, killing both of them in the struggle to get out. I mourned their death for a long time. For a while I turned my back on my church, for I was angry and confused why such a thing could happen to my wonderful parents, and what I had done to deserve this. After their death, my sister left to go live out west with her boyfriend, and I’ve never heard from her again.
My education was the only thing that kept me going. At college I learned how to read lips, that way I can communicate, and understand the people that I meet. Because I lost my hearing later in life, I know and understand how the English language works and sounds, allowing me to be able to talk to people who do not understand sign language. When I graduated from college with a degree in medicine, I took a job as a nurse in our community’s hospital. I love helping others, and making a significant difference in their lives. Without doctors and nurses, I wouldn’t have the life I have now, and want to give the second chance I obtained to others.
I woke up on Sunday to the light outside that was filtering in to my room through the little crevasses in the blinds as I lay in bed, being peaceful before I got up and started my day. I got up, and peeked through the blinds and saw the birds perched on the trees and saw them chirping their sweet song that I longed to hear. I began to make breakfast for myself as I turned on the TV and quickly read the captions that popped up, announcing the news before I switched it to my favorite show. As I began to crack the eggs, my cat came up and weaved itself through my legs saying good morning. I had gotten him 2 years ago on my 28th birthday, and he was now one of my best friends.
Everything was clean and seemed to be sparkling in my small apartment. The weather was beautiful and I had all the windows open to let the fresh air in. It felt cool and fresh against my skin as it blew through. I climbed the stairs to my loft where I had created a studio for myself. I had majored in art in high school, and it was always my dream to have my own little place to myself where I could work. The brown wooden panels were covered in all of my paintings and drawings. My easel sat near one of the two windows that let the fresh air and natural light shine through. The windows peered out onto the quiet street lined with trees full with green leaves. It was amazing to come up here during the fall and paint the outside when all the leaves turned colors. As I climbed the stairs the light was strong, causing me to squint a little bit, and notice the dust particles floating in the air. I sat down and reached for a pencil on the little table nearby that held all my art supplies and began to sketch. I felt that expressing my feelings through art is a way to communicate with others, and get so wrapped up in what I’m doing I lose track of time.
Around 11 o’clock I came out of my trance for I felt my hand to beginning to cramp slightly. I got up and stretched, stepping back to analyze my master piece. Noticing the time, I hurriedly went back to the window and watched for Him. I didn’t know who He was, or even his name, but I knew that he walked his dog down my block every Sunday around this time. He was handsome with thick, wavy dark brown hair, and warm eyes. He was strong and chiseled, yet not intimidating, and one could tell that he was kind. Today his tan complexion made his white t-shirt seem even brighter like it was glowing. He wore loose fitting, dark jeans that looked white in some places because they were worn so often. His single accessory was a sliver bracelet that dangled on his wrist, occasionally catching the sun’s rays. He smiled a wide, toothy grin to those whom he passed by on the side walk. He had big white teeth that were perfect and straight and gleamed in the sun. He was perfect. I wanted to get to know him so badly. Just meet him, and talk to him. I dreamed of sitting on the little bench outside and he would walk by one day with that slouchy walk of his and that beautiful smile, sit down next to me and say kindly,
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.”
He would relax with me, his arm dangling on the back of the bench, and he would ask me to go out for a cup of coffee at the little café around the corner. We would order, and sit at a cozy little table for two near the back of the café. The rest of the world would fade away into the dim light, and it would feel like it was just the two of us. He would lean on the table hanging on my every word as I would open up to him and come out of my shell. We would share things with each other that we dare not share with the world, or anyone else. We would sit of a long while and I would share the real me with him, and he would learn. He would learn that although I am introverted and quiet, I’m still good at expressing myself, and that people have to take their time, and dig a little to get to know the real me, and what I have been through. He would learn how my past has shaped the present, and who I am today. That I know how to have a fun time, and one should always look at life with the perspective of the glass being half full, instead of half empty and have a positive perspective. That all you can do is accept the things you can’t change, and to be happy about all the things you do have instead of focusing on the things you don’t. That you must always give someone a chance and never judge or doubt their ability, to never hold back, take risks, and just throw your head back and live!
We would part at the café, and go our separate way. When I got home I would be too exhilarated to go to bed, so I would go up to the loft where I sectioned off part of it as my dance studio. When I was young, I took ballet classes, and my mother would always come to my recitals, and tell me how dainty and graceful I was twirling on the tips of my toes. Losing my hearing created a problem, though I learned to work around it, and create the music in my mind by feeling the pulse and rhythm of the music through the vibrations in the floorboards. I would spin endlessly into the night, caught up in my own little world, which happens when I express myself through dance. I would finally stop to catch my breath, and walk to the window as I take a sip of cool water and tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears. When I would peek out from behind the shade, I would see Him down there, gazing longingly up at the window like he had the whole time, watching my silhouette prance around the room.
I pulled myself out of the day dream so quickly I felt my vision go blurry for a moment. I knew this was all but a fantasy, for I couldn’t bring myself to even meet him. I was too afraid he would take pity on me, view me as most people I meet do, trying to be considerate, and treating me as gently as a china cup because I can’t hear. Sometimes people fail to give me a chance to come out of my shell, and judge me before they know me. I have learned to never do this for I know how much it can hurt. I was afraid He would be like others, and I didn’t want my perfect image of him shattered, so I just stayed inside, watching him from my window. I quickly glanced at the clock, and realizing I was running late for work ran down stairs to get ready.
I got hurriedly changed and freshened up. Before leaving I glanced quickly in the mirror hanging on the wall near the door. I had parted my long, straight blonde hair, down the middle and pulled back so it wouldn’t get in my face at work, though a few strands had managed to break free, falling just barely in my face, hiding my left eye. My gold earrings sparkled and glistened in the sunlight, causing the light to dance above me on the ceiling. I would never take them off, for they were my mother’s so I treasured them, even more because they sat on my defect, and I felt like she was there helping me, for she always helped me when I was upset about never hearing the birds’ sweet song ever again. My brown eyes, surrounded by my long lashes, just like my grandmother had, shined and I smiled as I looked down at my white uniform covered in colorful little flowers. I quickly grabbed some blush and ran it over my high cheekbones, to give my pale complexion some color, slipped on my scrubs and took one last look at my petite figure in the long hall mirror, grabbed my bag from behind the door, got my keys and went off to the hospital.
The day was sunny and bright as I drove along. The trees had fully bloomed and housed thousands of big, green leaves that slowly swayed in the gentle wind. The sun shone down causing the road to look sparkly in some areas, and the sky was a magnificent blue. We had been having this fantasy weather for a while now, and with humidity hanging in the air, it didn’t take a meteorologist to predict a big thunderstorm was just around the corner. I got out of the car and into the sunshine as I walked to the hospital, tempted to skip as the sun warmed my skin. Once inside, I put my things away in the ‘employee only’ area and began to make my rounds to my usual patients. My personal favorite was when I would visit Valerie, a little girl who was recovering from an operation. She was so kind and happy, despite what she had been though. It really made you think about what was important in life, and always had something nice to say about everyone. If all the people in the world could be as innocent and loving as her, it would be a wonderful place to live.
As evening approached, many televisions in the hospital were tuned into the news or the weather station; apparently we were getting a huge thunder storm. Once I found a TV that had the captions up I realized how severe the storm would be; flash flood warnings, possible chance of a city wide power outage, tornado warnings, and a possible chance of hail. It was not the cozy type of storm where you could sit inside with a cup of tea and read a juicy book for the day. Still, there was something about a good storm that excites me. My eyes kept wandering over to the clock and gazing at the time for I was tired and I knew my shift would be over soon. Things were quieting down for the night, and darkness quickly enveloped the city as the storm clouds came rolling in. I peeked outside and it was that eerie glow that appears when the sky is dark gray, and everything outside is a silhouette in black, yet if you gaze up at the trees, the leaves are bright, almost a yellow-ish color, and it gives you that unsettling feeling of something about to happen. All the animals had postponed going out of their homes to take cover for Mother Nature’s worst.
I walked over to the reception desk to see Nancy, but as I approached I felt the color drain from my face as I saw the grave expression she wore, her eyes cast down, numbly shaking her head. The call from the ambulance had just come minutes ago to have everything prepared and everyone in their stations she told me. An emergency call had been placed by a man who said his neighbor’s dog came to him, and the neighbor saw that the dog’s master was passed out with barely any sign of a pulse. The red lights blinked steadily above the doors to the ER. Everyone stood there, waiting as the tense atmosphere hung heavily in the room. I shivered a little, not because I was chilly, but out of nerves. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was not going to be good. Suddenly the doors burst open bringing along a great gust of wind and carrying in a few stray pieces of debris. It was pitch black outside although it was still relatively early, and you could see the sheets of rain that the sky hurled down hitting the pavement forcefully. I gasped despite myself as doctors and nurses gathered around the motionless figure on the gurney, and saw them frantically shout directions to each other. The victim’s hand limply dangled off the side, and I caught a glimpse of a familiar bracelet. A silver bracelet. My heart froze in my chest, as I felt my blood turn icy cold and I felt my stomach drop to the floor as my mind began to spin as I realized it was Him lying on the gurney. I wanted to run to him, but could not feel my legs, and the doctors quickly wheeled him through the big double doors that led to the emergency room which now held his future. As the doors swung behind them I could sense the room had grown abnormally quiet as we all stared at the doors wondering what would become of him.
As the hospital’s activities began to pick up again, I stayed put, my thoughts still spinning. I felt my pager vibrate, alerting me to take care of a patient on the 4th floor, and slowly headed to the elevator. Later, I came back downstairs and saw Frank, the ambulance driver walk in, drenched by the rain so I went to fetch him some towels to dry off. He still wore his old, worn red baseball cap, and a tired grin. He looked old standing there with the towel wrapped around him. His hair stuck out a little bit from under the cap which was a mix of brown and gray. His eyes looked tired, and he had smile lines in his face. The skin on his hands looked stretchy, and you could see the veins popping out of them. He was a good hearted, kind man who had been a volunteer ambulance driver for as long as I could remember.
“Hey Elise. How you doin’?” he asked me as I approached
“Not bad, how’s Mary?” I asked of his wife.
“Oh she’s doin’ real well. She’s out watching the grand kiddies right now.” He replied
“Frank, do you know anything about what happened to the patient that was just brought in?” I asked
“Vaguely,” he replied. “I was just talking to some of the members who were sitting in the back of the ambulance with him. Said it was high blood sugar, he was wearing one of them medic alert bracelets, said he suffers from type 1 diabetes. They don’t know what caused the high blood sugar, just that he had passed out; said it looked like a stroke.”
“Oh my God. Thanks Frank.” I replied weakly as I walked over to a chair to sit down for a moment, still dazed. I sat there, unaware of the time ticking by, wrapped up inside myself. It felt like eons before the doctor emerged from the emergency room. He looked tired, yet satisfied as he wiped the perspiration that had collected on his forehead with the back of his hand. I quickly got up and approached him asking
“How is he? What happened? Is he ok?”
“He’s alive,” he replied, and I felt relief wash over me, fresh and cool like when you plunge into an icy pool as I quickly processed the good news.
“He’s awake now, may be a little out of it still. We’ve already called and alerted his family, and they’re flying in and should hopefully be here within the next day or two.”
“Why did you call the family?” I asked accusingly as I felt the panic rise inside of me yet again.
“Well, the stroke, it paralyzed him. His legs. He won’t be able to walk,” he trailed off, looking disappointed, and I could tell he felt bad for him, and there was nothing he could do to save his legs. “We told his family, but he doesn’t know yet. We’re waiting until his family is with him.” I wasn’t sure how to react to the news. I was defiantly scared for him, and how he would react. I felt bad for him also, but the last thing I wanted was to let that effect how I treated him, for I knew how much it stung.
“When can I see him?” I asked
“You can go in now if you like,” the doctor replied, looking at me questioningly, probably wondering how I knew him, but held back his inquiries. “Second floor, room 7B.” He told me before I turned to go.
I walked up the stairs to the second floor, not really thinking about what I was doing, but just knowing that my heart was telling me to see him. I quietly rapped on the door two times quickly, matching up the speed of my heartbeat, before entering. He lay there dressed in a hospital gown, sitting up in bed with the teal covers pulled up to his waist. Under the blankets I could see the outline of his legs, the ones he would never walk on again, and my eyes lingered there for a moment before I approached the side of his bed. His thick dark hair was pushed back, and the muscles in his arms were defined although he was just sitting there relaxed. His deep eyes followed me as he said
“What’s the story Doc?”He asked with a weak smile. I smiled back gently, and felt my heart grow tight in my chest as I lied,
“I’m not sure. The doctors rarely tell the nurses. They’ll be in soon to talk to you.” He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and I saw the lines connect as he realized I was deaf. He leaned back and smiled admiringly, and I could tell he was itching to ask me about it, for he looked genuinely interested, though held back. I sat down on the little stool next to his bed, and before I could speak again, he asked me with a grin,
“How’s your paintings coming along?” I felt my mouth drop a little, but quickly composed myself, as I knit my eyebrows and felt a small smirk creep across my face. Reading my body language, he continued,
“My dog, Scout, he’s a service dog, helps me keep track of my diabetes. I’ve had it since I was 11, well he alerts me when my blood sugar is running high or low. He’s such a good companion. Anyways, he loves to go out for walks, so I take him out frequently around town. One time I was passing by, and saw you in the top window of your apartment. You were sitting with chopsticks in your hair, partially hidden by the flowery curtain which was drawn on half of the window, painting. I’m not sure exactly what it was you were painting, but you looked so elegant and beautiful with the sun streaming down and enveloping you, making your hair gleam. Every day since then I’ve been walking Scout on that street, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, or that I would even bump into you one day on the sidewalk while passing by.” He concluded, his smile shy, but his eyes dancing with happiness at remembering the fondness of the memory. I felt my heart melt, like butter does when it slides down a piece of toast, and my stomach was full of bubbles. I smiled so widely my face hurt.
Suddenly the doctor briskly strode in door interrupting my thoughts, and ruining the moment. He strode in like a man with a purpose, and I quickly excused myself from the room, looking back just before I left, catching him gazing after me, with a look in his eye that didn’t want me to leave just yet. I quietly closed the door, and after I felt it click behind me, I rested my back on it, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply. I made my way to my car, and felt like I was floating as I unlocked the door to my apartment and went inside. I crawled into bed mixed up about my feelings. I couldn’t help but smiling when I thought of what he had told me, but I felt my insides turn cold when I knew the hard times he would be facing. Before I fell asleep I promised myself that I would give him some time with his family, and to get used to what he was about to face, and in five days, I would go back to see him.
Those five days were the slowest I could remember. I did my shift at the hospital in the afternoons like always, and tried my best to stay away from the second floor for I didn’t want to think of him lying in that hospital bed. I would fill my spare time in my studio, but there was something missing, for I had nothing to look forward to for I knew that He was still in the hospital, and wouldn’t be out walking Scout. When I couldn’t concentrate on my art, I would sit in front of the computer and TV, which I hated because it made me feel lazy and unaccomplished. Finally, it was Thursday, the day I promised myself I would see him. I went to the hospital that morning, taking extra care with my makeup and hair. I peeked in the mirror before I headed up to the second floor, and I was literally glowing. I ran up the stairs, but slowed down to a walk as I approached room 7B. Before I knew it I was at room 7H.
“Wow, my mind must be really not working if I passed by the room,” I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes and headed back the other way. I walked back and approached the closed door, held my hand about to knock, but realized it was room 7A. I didn’t make a mistake before, something was up. I walked a couple of feet back to 7B, and realized the door was wide open, awaiting its next patient. The bed was made with the sheets pulled tightly over the mattress. The window was open just a crack, and the sun shined through. It smelled faintly of lemon, and I knew the room had just recently been cleaned. I hurried down to the reception desk to inquire about where he had been moved to. I asked Nancy, who told me that he had been moved out this morning, and was going back home. I felt my heart dip slightly; I didn’t know where he lived, and now that he was paralyzed, I was unsure of if I would ever see him walking his dog again along my street. Feeling defeated I turned around, and saw him sitting at the end of the hallway in a wheelchair.
“Looking for me?” he called out with that smirk of his that made my heart get caught in my throat.
“How are you?” I asked, my nurse attitude stepping in.
“OK actually. I still have my life. I figure things could always be a lot worse,” he trailed off. “Wanna go for a walk?” He asked, an inquisitive look on his face, his eyes sparkling.
“Yea, I would like that a lot, it would be really nice.” I replied calmly as my insides began to sing. I grabbed the handles on the back of his chair and wheeled him outside. After the storm we had had a couple days back, the weather was beautiful again. It was warm outside with a light breeze that felt refreshing. The white, fluffy clouds rolled by lazily in the bright blue sky. Everything felt peaceful.
“My name’s John by the way,” he said tilting his head back to look at me, squinting with the sun in his eyes.
“I’m Elise,” I replied with a smile.
“So Elise,” he began in a relaxed tone, settling himself in for a long conversation, “Tell me, what do you enjoy painting?” He asked grinning as he reached back for my hand, guiding me around to his side where he continued to hold on to me, using his other hand to rotate the wheel on the chair. We continued walking in the sun together, and I felt that I had finally found that someone I had been searching for for a long time for.
I’ve lived in New Jersey my whole life. Growing up here with my parents and older sister are some of the most treasured memories I hold. I loved going to school and enjoyed going to church every Sunday morning with my family. I embraced the close knit, and loving community I was a part of, and I knew I would always be accepted there. I grew to love it even more after I lost my hearing and became permanently deaf. I remember the day it happened so clearly it still frightens me.
I was out late one night with some friends. It was pitch black out and me and some friends were hanging out with nothing do to. We started wandering around in the woods and I was scared. It was dark and I didn’t know where we were going. A cool breeze blew through causing the bare trees to sway. The occasional twig snapped beneath my foot causing me to jump, and I had a hard timekeeping my breathing steady. We plowed on, the leaves crunching beneath my feet. I wanted to turn back more than anything, for I had that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I didn’t know where we were, or how to get back, and I didn’t want to have to walk back through the woods by myself. We came across a clearing where there was a big fire pit. It was dirty, and full of old ashes. As we got closer to it, we found a pack of fire crackers sitting in the middle of the pit with a match on the side, as if someone left it there on purpose, and was going to come back for it. One of my friends quickly stuck the match, the fire producing an eerie glow on his face as he bent towards the fire crackers.
“Take cover!” He hollered, and everyone scattered in all directions. I was confused and overwhelmed, and began to run just as the firecrackers went off right beside me. I screamed at the deafening sound as I ducked and hid behind a bush. The aroma of smoke strongly hit my nostrils. I called to my friends to see if they were still there, yet didn’t hear my voice produce any sound. I called louder and louder, but still couldn’t hear a thing. Panic rose up inside of me and I began to scream. I saw flames rising from the firecrackers, licking the bases of the trees and beginning to envelop them. I knew I should’ve run, but I couldn’t make my legs move. The flames came closer and closer to me, so bright I could barely see anything. One of my friends came running up to me, looking fearful, and shouting at me, yet I could not hear her either. We ran out of the woods, the flames licking our heels, just waiting to swallow us up, unsure if our other friends made it out, or were still trapped in the forest fire. After that I was rushed to the hospital. The doctors said that I should be grateful it was only my hearing I had lost instead of my sight, for the flames were strong, or my life, for I could have gotten severely burned.
My mom was raging when she understood what had taken place, but as always, looked on the bright side of things, and was just happy to have me with her alive. She had taken such good care of me, helping me with the major transition, and did all she could to make things as easy and normal as possible. Even now when I think back on it, I don’t know how she did it. She was always so calm, and took everything with a grain of salt, and just kept pushing forward. I think that she got it from my grandmother Elise whom I was named after. She came over from Scotland and made a name a living all by herself. She was as strong as nails.
Despite my disability, I wanted to push forward like my mom, and was determined to continue my education and go off to college. I applied for a music/art scholarship to a college that specialized in teaching deaf young adults. Towards the end of my sophomore year, while my parents were attending a party at the house of one of their friends, a kitchen fire burned the whole place down, killing both of them in the struggle to get out. I mourned their death for a long time. For a while I turned my back on my church, for I was angry and confused why such a thing could happen to my wonderful parents, and what I had done to deserve this. After their death, my sister left to go live out west with her boyfriend, and I’ve never heard from her again.
My education was the only thing that kept me going. At college I learned how to read lips, that way I can communicate, and understand the people that I meet. Because I lost my hearing later in life, I know and understand how the English language works and sounds, allowing me to be able to talk to people who do not understand sign language. When I graduated from college with a degree in medicine, I took a job as a nurse in our community’s hospital. I love helping others, and making a significant difference in their lives. Without doctors and nurses, I wouldn’t have the life I have now, and want to give the second chance I obtained to others.
I woke up on Sunday to the light outside that was filtering in to my room through the little crevasses in the blinds as I lay in bed, being peaceful before I got up and started my day. I got up, and peeked through the blinds and saw the birds perched on the trees and saw them chirping their sweet song that I longed to hear. I began to make breakfast for myself as I turned on the TV and quickly read the captions that popped up, announcing the news before I switched it to my favorite show. As I began to crack the eggs, my cat came up and weaved itself through my legs saying good morning. I had gotten him 2 years ago on my 28th birthday, and he was now one of my best friends.
Everything was clean and seemed to be sparkling in my small apartment. The weather was beautiful and I had all the windows open to let the fresh air in. It felt cool and fresh against my skin as it blew through. I climbed the stairs to my loft where I had created a studio for myself. I had majored in art in high school, and it was always my dream to have my own little place to myself where I could work. The brown wooden panels were covered in all of my paintings and drawings. My easel sat near one of the two windows that let the fresh air and natural light shine through. The windows peered out onto the quiet street lined with trees full with green leaves. It was amazing to come up here during the fall and paint the outside when all the leaves turned colors. As I climbed the stairs the light was strong, causing me to squint a little bit, and notice the dust particles floating in the air. I sat down and reached for a pencil on the little table nearby that held all my art supplies and began to sketch. I felt that expressing my feelings through art is a way to communicate with others, and get so wrapped up in what I’m doing I lose track of time.
Around 11 o’clock I came out of my trance for I felt my hand to beginning to cramp slightly. I got up and stretched, stepping back to analyze my master piece. Noticing the time, I hurriedly went back to the window and watched for Him. I didn’t know who He was, or even his name, but I knew that he walked his dog down my block every Sunday around this time. He was handsome with thick, wavy dark brown hair, and warm eyes. He was strong and chiseled, yet not intimidating, and one could tell that he was kind. Today his tan complexion made his white t-shirt seem even brighter like it was glowing. He wore loose fitting, dark jeans that looked white in some places because they were worn so often. His single accessory was a sliver bracelet that dangled on his wrist, occasionally catching the sun’s rays. He smiled a wide, toothy grin to those whom he passed by on the side walk. He had big white teeth that were perfect and straight and gleamed in the sun. He was perfect. I wanted to get to know him so badly. Just meet him, and talk to him. I dreamed of sitting on the little bench outside and he would walk by one day with that slouchy walk of his and that beautiful smile, sit down next to me and say kindly,
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.”
He would relax with me, his arm dangling on the back of the bench, and he would ask me to go out for a cup of coffee at the little café around the corner. We would order, and sit at a cozy little table for two near the back of the café. The rest of the world would fade away into the dim light, and it would feel like it was just the two of us. He would lean on the table hanging on my every word as I would open up to him and come out of my shell. We would share things with each other that we dare not share with the world, or anyone else. We would sit of a long while and I would share the real me with him, and he would learn. He would learn that although I am introverted and quiet, I’m still good at expressing myself, and that people have to take their time, and dig a little to get to know the real me, and what I have been through. He would learn how my past has shaped the present, and who I am today. That I know how to have a fun time, and one should always look at life with the perspective of the glass being half full, instead of half empty and have a positive perspective. That all you can do is accept the things you can’t change, and to be happy about all the things you do have instead of focusing on the things you don’t. That you must always give someone a chance and never judge or doubt their ability, to never hold back, take risks, and just throw your head back and live!
We would part at the café, and go our separate way. When I got home I would be too exhilarated to go to bed, so I would go up to the loft where I sectioned off part of it as my dance studio. When I was young, I took ballet classes, and my mother would always come to my recitals, and tell me how dainty and graceful I was twirling on the tips of my toes. Losing my hearing created a problem, though I learned to work around it, and create the music in my mind by feeling the pulse and rhythm of the music through the vibrations in the floorboards. I would spin endlessly into the night, caught up in my own little world, which happens when I express myself through dance. I would finally stop to catch my breath, and walk to the window as I take a sip of cool water and tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears. When I would peek out from behind the shade, I would see Him down there, gazing longingly up at the window like he had the whole time, watching my silhouette prance around the room.
I pulled myself out of the day dream so quickly I felt my vision go blurry for a moment. I knew this was all but a fantasy, for I couldn’t bring myself to even meet him. I was too afraid he would take pity on me, view me as most people I meet do, trying to be considerate, and treating me as gently as a china cup because I can’t hear. Sometimes people fail to give me a chance to come out of my shell, and judge me before they know me. I have learned to never do this for I know how much it can hurt. I was afraid He would be like others, and I didn’t want my perfect image of him shattered, so I just stayed inside, watching him from my window. I quickly glanced at the clock, and realizing I was running late for work ran down stairs to get ready.
I got hurriedly changed and freshened up. Before leaving I glanced quickly in the mirror hanging on the wall near the door. I had parted my long, straight blonde hair, down the middle and pulled back so it wouldn’t get in my face at work, though a few strands had managed to break free, falling just barely in my face, hiding my left eye. My gold earrings sparkled and glistened in the sunlight, causing the light to dance above me on the ceiling. I would never take them off, for they were my mother’s so I treasured them, even more because they sat on my defect, and I felt like she was there helping me, for she always helped me when I was upset about never hearing the birds’ sweet song ever again. My brown eyes, surrounded by my long lashes, just like my grandmother had, shined and I smiled as I looked down at my white uniform covered in colorful little flowers. I quickly grabbed some blush and ran it over my high cheekbones, to give my pale complexion some color, slipped on my scrubs and took one last look at my petite figure in the long hall mirror, grabbed my bag from behind the door, got my keys and went off to the hospital.
The day was sunny and bright as I drove along. The trees had fully bloomed and housed thousands of big, green leaves that slowly swayed in the gentle wind. The sun shone down causing the road to look sparkly in some areas, and the sky was a magnificent blue. We had been having this fantasy weather for a while now, and with humidity hanging in the air, it didn’t take a meteorologist to predict a big thunderstorm was just around the corner. I got out of the car and into the sunshine as I walked to the hospital, tempted to skip as the sun warmed my skin. Once inside, I put my things away in the ‘employee only’ area and began to make my rounds to my usual patients. My personal favorite was when I would visit Valerie, a little girl who was recovering from an operation. She was so kind and happy, despite what she had been though. It really made you think about what was important in life, and always had something nice to say about everyone. If all the people in the world could be as innocent and loving as her, it would be a wonderful place to live.
As evening approached, many televisions in the hospital were tuned into the news or the weather station; apparently we were getting a huge thunder storm. Once I found a TV that had the captions up I realized how severe the storm would be; flash flood warnings, possible chance of a city wide power outage, tornado warnings, and a possible chance of hail. It was not the cozy type of storm where you could sit inside with a cup of tea and read a juicy book for the day. Still, there was something about a good storm that excites me. My eyes kept wandering over to the clock and gazing at the time for I was tired and I knew my shift would be over soon. Things were quieting down for the night, and darkness quickly enveloped the city as the storm clouds came rolling in. I peeked outside and it was that eerie glow that appears when the sky is dark gray, and everything outside is a silhouette in black, yet if you gaze up at the trees, the leaves are bright, almost a yellow-ish color, and it gives you that unsettling feeling of something about to happen. All the animals had postponed going out of their homes to take cover for Mother Nature’s worst.
I walked over to the reception desk to see Nancy, but as I approached I felt the color drain from my face as I saw the grave expression she wore, her eyes cast down, numbly shaking her head. The call from the ambulance had just come minutes ago to have everything prepared and everyone in their stations she told me. An emergency call had been placed by a man who said his neighbor’s dog came to him, and the neighbor saw that the dog’s master was passed out with barely any sign of a pulse. The red lights blinked steadily above the doors to the ER. Everyone stood there, waiting as the tense atmosphere hung heavily in the room. I shivered a little, not because I was chilly, but out of nerves. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was not going to be good. Suddenly the doors burst open bringing along a great gust of wind and carrying in a few stray pieces of debris. It was pitch black outside although it was still relatively early, and you could see the sheets of rain that the sky hurled down hitting the pavement forcefully. I gasped despite myself as doctors and nurses gathered around the motionless figure on the gurney, and saw them frantically shout directions to each other. The victim’s hand limply dangled off the side, and I caught a glimpse of a familiar bracelet. A silver bracelet. My heart froze in my chest, as I felt my blood turn icy cold and I felt my stomach drop to the floor as my mind began to spin as I realized it was Him lying on the gurney. I wanted to run to him, but could not feel my legs, and the doctors quickly wheeled him through the big double doors that led to the emergency room which now held his future. As the doors swung behind them I could sense the room had grown abnormally quiet as we all stared at the doors wondering what would become of him.
As the hospital’s activities began to pick up again, I stayed put, my thoughts still spinning. I felt my pager vibrate, alerting me to take care of a patient on the 4th floor, and slowly headed to the elevator. Later, I came back downstairs and saw Frank, the ambulance driver walk in, drenched by the rain so I went to fetch him some towels to dry off. He still wore his old, worn red baseball cap, and a tired grin. He looked old standing there with the towel wrapped around him. His hair stuck out a little bit from under the cap which was a mix of brown and gray. His eyes looked tired, and he had smile lines in his face. The skin on his hands looked stretchy, and you could see the veins popping out of them. He was a good hearted, kind man who had been a volunteer ambulance driver for as long as I could remember.
“Hey Elise. How you doin’?” he asked me as I approached
“Not bad, how’s Mary?” I asked of his wife.
“Oh she’s doin’ real well. She’s out watching the grand kiddies right now.” He replied
“Frank, do you know anything about what happened to the patient that was just brought in?” I asked
“Vaguely,” he replied. “I was just talking to some of the members who were sitting in the back of the ambulance with him. Said it was high blood sugar, he was wearing one of them medic alert bracelets, said he suffers from type 1 diabetes. They don’t know what caused the high blood sugar, just that he had passed out; said it looked like a stroke.”
“Oh my God. Thanks Frank.” I replied weakly as I walked over to a chair to sit down for a moment, still dazed. I sat there, unaware of the time ticking by, wrapped up inside myself. It felt like eons before the doctor emerged from the emergency room. He looked tired, yet satisfied as he wiped the perspiration that had collected on his forehead with the back of his hand. I quickly got up and approached him asking
“How is he? What happened? Is he ok?”
“He’s alive,” he replied, and I felt relief wash over me, fresh and cool like when you plunge into an icy pool as I quickly processed the good news.
“He’s awake now, may be a little out of it still. We’ve already called and alerted his family, and they’re flying in and should hopefully be here within the next day or two.”
“Why did you call the family?” I asked accusingly as I felt the panic rise inside of me yet again.
“Well, the stroke, it paralyzed him. His legs. He won’t be able to walk,” he trailed off, looking disappointed, and I could tell he felt bad for him, and there was nothing he could do to save his legs. “We told his family, but he doesn’t know yet. We’re waiting until his family is with him.” I wasn’t sure how to react to the news. I was defiantly scared for him, and how he would react. I felt bad for him also, but the last thing I wanted was to let that effect how I treated him, for I knew how much it stung.
“When can I see him?” I asked
“You can go in now if you like,” the doctor replied, looking at me questioningly, probably wondering how I knew him, but held back his inquiries. “Second floor, room 7B.” He told me before I turned to go.
I walked up the stairs to the second floor, not really thinking about what I was doing, but just knowing that my heart was telling me to see him. I quietly rapped on the door two times quickly, matching up the speed of my heartbeat, before entering. He lay there dressed in a hospital gown, sitting up in bed with the teal covers pulled up to his waist. Under the blankets I could see the outline of his legs, the ones he would never walk on again, and my eyes lingered there for a moment before I approached the side of his bed. His thick dark hair was pushed back, and the muscles in his arms were defined although he was just sitting there relaxed. His deep eyes followed me as he said
“What’s the story Doc?”He asked with a weak smile. I smiled back gently, and felt my heart grow tight in my chest as I lied,
“I’m not sure. The doctors rarely tell the nurses. They’ll be in soon to talk to you.” He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and I saw the lines connect as he realized I was deaf. He leaned back and smiled admiringly, and I could tell he was itching to ask me about it, for he looked genuinely interested, though held back. I sat down on the little stool next to his bed, and before I could speak again, he asked me with a grin,
“How’s your paintings coming along?” I felt my mouth drop a little, but quickly composed myself, as I knit my eyebrows and felt a small smirk creep across my face. Reading my body language, he continued,
“My dog, Scout, he’s a service dog, helps me keep track of my diabetes. I’ve had it since I was 11, well he alerts me when my blood sugar is running high or low. He’s such a good companion. Anyways, he loves to go out for walks, so I take him out frequently around town. One time I was passing by, and saw you in the top window of your apartment. You were sitting with chopsticks in your hair, partially hidden by the flowery curtain which was drawn on half of the window, painting. I’m not sure exactly what it was you were painting, but you looked so elegant and beautiful with the sun streaming down and enveloping you, making your hair gleam. Every day since then I’ve been walking Scout on that street, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, or that I would even bump into you one day on the sidewalk while passing by.” He concluded, his smile shy, but his eyes dancing with happiness at remembering the fondness of the memory. I felt my heart melt, like butter does when it slides down a piece of toast, and my stomach was full of bubbles. I smiled so widely my face hurt.
Suddenly the doctor briskly strode in door interrupting my thoughts, and ruining the moment. He strode in like a man with a purpose, and I quickly excused myself from the room, looking back just before I left, catching him gazing after me, with a look in his eye that didn’t want me to leave just yet. I quietly closed the door, and after I felt it click behind me, I rested my back on it, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply. I made my way to my car, and felt like I was floating as I unlocked the door to my apartment and went inside. I crawled into bed mixed up about my feelings. I couldn’t help but smiling when I thought of what he had told me, but I felt my insides turn cold when I knew the hard times he would be facing. Before I fell asleep I promised myself that I would give him some time with his family, and to get used to what he was about to face, and in five days, I would go back to see him.
Those five days were the slowest I could remember. I did my shift at the hospital in the afternoons like always, and tried my best to stay away from the second floor for I didn’t want to think of him lying in that hospital bed. I would fill my spare time in my studio, but there was something missing, for I had nothing to look forward to for I knew that He was still in the hospital, and wouldn’t be out walking Scout. When I couldn’t concentrate on my art, I would sit in front of the computer and TV, which I hated because it made me feel lazy and unaccomplished. Finally, it was Thursday, the day I promised myself I would see him. I went to the hospital that morning, taking extra care with my makeup and hair. I peeked in the mirror before I headed up to the second floor, and I was literally glowing. I ran up the stairs, but slowed down to a walk as I approached room 7B. Before I knew it I was at room 7H.
“Wow, my mind must be really not working if I passed by the room,” I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes and headed back the other way. I walked back and approached the closed door, held my hand about to knock, but realized it was room 7A. I didn’t make a mistake before, something was up. I walked a couple of feet back to 7B, and realized the door was wide open, awaiting its next patient. The bed was made with the sheets pulled tightly over the mattress. The window was open just a crack, and the sun shined through. It smelled faintly of lemon, and I knew the room had just recently been cleaned. I hurried down to the reception desk to inquire about where he had been moved to. I asked Nancy, who told me that he had been moved out this morning, and was going back home. I felt my heart dip slightly; I didn’t know where he lived, and now that he was paralyzed, I was unsure of if I would ever see him walking his dog again along my street. Feeling defeated I turned around, and saw him sitting at the end of the hallway in a wheelchair.
“Looking for me?” he called out with that smirk of his that made my heart get caught in my throat.
“How are you?” I asked, my nurse attitude stepping in.
“OK actually. I still have my life. I figure things could always be a lot worse,” he trailed off. “Wanna go for a walk?” He asked, an inquisitive look on his face, his eyes sparkling.
“Yea, I would like that a lot, it would be really nice.” I replied calmly as my insides began to sing. I grabbed the handles on the back of his chair and wheeled him outside. After the storm we had had a couple days back, the weather was beautiful again. It was warm outside with a light breeze that felt refreshing. The white, fluffy clouds rolled by lazily in the bright blue sky. Everything felt peaceful.
“My name’s John by the way,” he said tilting his head back to look at me, squinting with the sun in his eyes.
“I’m Elise,” I replied with a smile.
“So Elise,” he began in a relaxed tone, settling himself in for a long conversation, “Tell me, what do you enjoy painting?” He asked grinning as he reached back for my hand, guiding me around to his side where he continued to hold on to me, using his other hand to rotate the wheel on the chair. We continued walking in the sun together, and I felt that I had finally found that someone I had been searching for for a long time for.