Handle with Care
Four-Hundred Ninety-Nine
I glance around nervously, but there aren't any nurses or doctors in the hallway so I cut straight into Tommy's room. He's sitting at his window staring out across the grounds as it slowly rains, so lost in his own world that I want to cry. He's so fragile.
"Hi!" he says cheerfully when he hears the door open. "You're... um, wait, I know this one! You're... you're Will, right?" Tommy's grinning mischeviously like he knows something I don't, but the smile I return is forcefully plastered on my face.
"Yes, I'm Will bab-" I cut myself off, stopping before I call him baby. The doctors told me it upsets him because he won't remember. There's too much damage from the fucking tree he hit. He left in a rush because he was upset by our argument. This broken boy in front of me is my fault. All my fucking fault.
"Ugh finally. I've been waiting for you!" My heart flutters for a second. Maybe, just maybe. "I have something for you!" He shoots up from his chair and digs through a chest at the foot of his bed, finally coming up with a crumpled disney coloring book page that had been scribbled on. My five year old sister could have done a better job, but he's smiling like it's his pride and joy. "For you!"
"Thank you, Tommy." I take the page from him and gently sit on his bed as he resumes his perch by the window. "Can I tell you a story about how two boys met? I think something might jog your memory. "
"Jog my... jog my what? My memory, what will you do with my memory? I don't have one of those. That's what all the nurses whisper. I don't. I don't have one. At all." He gets up and begins pacing the room while he pulls at his hair, clearly on the edge of a breakdown. Fuck, 'memory'. A trigger word. He stops and looks me straight in the eye, more whole than he has been in almost six months. Tommy looks like he's about to cry but he manages to whisper to me. "I'm not who I say I am. Your past makes you, but I don't know my past. Who am I? Will, I'm no one. No one..."
I want to tell him he's perfect. I want to say I love him, but I know nothing will get through. I whisper that I'll stop by again tomorrow, but Tommy is curled into fetal position sucking his thumb as he cries.
It's too much for me. I leave my boyfriend's room as fast as I can as my legs carry me out of the institite, across the grounds, and down the road. I'm sprinting now, trying to outrun my own memories until I'm just as lost as Tommy, because without him I am no one.The rain is coming heavier now, and it washes over my body and down my cheeks, mixing with the tears that are flowing freely.
"Hi!" he says cheerfully when he hears the door open. "You're... um, wait, I know this one! You're... you're Will, right?" Tommy's grinning mischeviously like he knows something I don't, but the smile I return is forcefully plastered on my face.
"Yes, I'm Will bab-" I cut myself off, stopping before I call him baby. The doctors told me it upsets him because he won't remember. There's too much damage from the fucking tree he hit. He left in a rush because he was upset by our argument. This broken boy in front of me is my fault. All my fucking fault.
"Ugh finally. I've been waiting for you!" My heart flutters for a second. Maybe, just maybe. "I have something for you!" He shoots up from his chair and digs through a chest at the foot of his bed, finally coming up with a crumpled disney coloring book page that had been scribbled on. My five year old sister could have done a better job, but he's smiling like it's his pride and joy. "For you!"
"Thank you, Tommy." I take the page from him and gently sit on his bed as he resumes his perch by the window. "Can I tell you a story about how two boys met? I think something might jog your memory. "
"Jog my... jog my what? My memory, what will you do with my memory? I don't have one of those. That's what all the nurses whisper. I don't. I don't have one. At all." He gets up and begins pacing the room while he pulls at his hair, clearly on the edge of a breakdown. Fuck, 'memory'. A trigger word. He stops and looks me straight in the eye, more whole than he has been in almost six months. Tommy looks like he's about to cry but he manages to whisper to me. "I'm not who I say I am. Your past makes you, but I don't know my past. Who am I? Will, I'm no one. No one..."
I want to tell him he's perfect. I want to say I love him, but I know nothing will get through. I whisper that I'll stop by again tomorrow, but Tommy is curled into fetal position sucking his thumb as he cries.
It's too much for me. I leave my boyfriend's room as fast as I can as my legs carry me out of the institite, across the grounds, and down the road. I'm sprinting now, trying to outrun my own memories until I'm just as lost as Tommy, because without him I am no one.The rain is coming heavier now, and it washes over my body and down my cheeks, mixing with the tears that are flowing freely.