Scrapbook Memories

“Remember, you can talk to her all you want. Ms. Simpson won’t be able to respond, but she can hear you,” the petite nurse that had brought Harry to Anna’s room every day for a week and a half now opened the door to Anna’s room, a sad smile gracing her face in an attempt to comfort him a little. It didn’t work, but he nodded and returned the best mile he could muster up in return before walking into the room and shutting the door.

His smile soon faded when he saw Anna lying on the white hospital bed, her hands still folded neatly over her stomach and her face still bearing the same calm expression as the day before. Every day he visited, he would hope that she would hop out of bed and run over to him, planting kisses all over his face and smiling against his lips when he would finally take control and press his against hers. It was a long shot, but he still looked forward to it, and every day he would leave a little more disappointed than the day before.

“Hi Anna,” he said, or rather whispered, walking over to the chair next to her bed and sitting down. After absentmindedly fingering a small hole at the bottom of his coat, he let his gaze linger on Anna.

“I’m sorry Mr. Styles, but the odds of Anna-Beth coming out of this coma are very slim. I would suggest seeing her as much as you can before it’s too late.”

Doctor Mitchell’s words still rang through Harry’s mind. It seemed to be all he would think about anymore. He and Anna had been in a relationship for three years, and best friends for five. It hurt him more than anything to know that the one person he loved the most would be gone in a matter of days, if that, but he tried his best not to cry. He cried once in front of Anna, back when his grandmother died, and after seeing how much it saddened Anna to see him in such a state of grief, he vowed never to cry in front of her again; whether she was in a coma or not.

“Uh… I brought your favorite teddy bear,” Harry blinked, waiting on Anna to respond and sighing when she didn’t. He reached into the bag he brought with him and pulled out a small teddy bear, lifting up Anna’s hands as gently as he could and resting the teddy bear under them, “Your sister was at your apartment, so she let me in and gave me a box of your things. I mean, nothing creepy like knickers or anything, but there was this teddy bear, and a camera, and a scrapbook. I didn’t know you liked scrapbooking. If I did, I would have tried to help you with it.”

Anna showed no sign of response. Not a sound, or a finger twitch, or a movement of any limb whatsoever. She laid there silently, the heart monitor’s constant beeping providing the only evidence that she was still alive.

“I hope you don’t mind that I look at it,” Harry warned, looking at Anna’s face one last time before opening the scrapbook, “I just feel like it would make me closer to you right now. I just… I need that.”

Harry opened the scrapbook up to the first page and smiled, an action that was almost unfamiliar to him with all the frowning and downright sullen expression that had taken over his facial features within the past couple of weeks. The first picture was one of Anna when she was around four or five, a big, half-toothy grin adorning her face. Even though she was just a little girl, Harry still felt drawn to the bubbly personality that practically glowed in the picture.

The next few pages were full of pictures of Anna and her family and friends. She seemed to have an aura about her that made everyone else in the pictures seem just as downright happy with life as she was. Harry stopped on the page dedicated to Anna’s university life. There were all sorts of pictures from parties, workshops, and most importantly, the picture the two had taken during his last visit to see her after her Art Theory class at Northwestern University. The girls trying to flirt with him were almost unbearable as was the fourteen measly hours he had to spend with Anna, but they made it work, and judging by the way the two smiled at each other in the picture, they seemed like two of the happiest people on Earth.

Harry flipped the page, and although he was one hundred percent convinced that his smile couldn’t become any bigger, there he was, revealing what was probably the goofiest grin that had ever appeared on his face.

“My love” was written across the top in Anna’s neat cursive, a few small hearts surrounding it in red ink. Underneath was a picture of Anna and Harry back in Cheshire, England, their arms wrapped around each other as they kissed under the big oak tree in her grandfather’s backyard. He remembered her sister taking the picture, threatening to show it to their parents if Anna didn’t return a pair of heels she borrowed without permission a few nights back when she and Harry went out to dinner.

Anna’s visits to Cheshire were about the only thing Harry used to look forward to growing up. Seeing Mrs. Simpson’s small, red car pull up next door to he and his parent’s house would always be the highlight of his summer, and he cherished all the time he spent with Anna while she visited her family every summer. Even before they turned their friendship into a romance, they were the king and queen of long distance relationships, and old conversations about visiting the other in the states or in England, or what they would do if they got to see each other more often popped into Harry’s mind.

The next few pages contained pictures from various dates, movie nights with the other One Direction boys and their girlfriends, babysitting adventures with Anna and Lux, and about everything else the two managed to do together. Harry stopped for a while on the second to last page. A picture of him, his mum, and Anna standing outside of the Buckingham Palace during a trip to London graced the page, and Harry couldn’t help but blush at the memory of the comments his mother would make right in front of Anna, knowing how embarrassed Harry was.

“You know, you two both have the most gorgeous green eyes. Your future babies will be blessed in the eye department.”

“Anna, dear, you should hear how much my cheeky little son here talks about you. You would think you were the queen of England with some of the lovely things he says about you.”

“I sure hope you two plan on getting married one day. I couldn’t ask for a better girl for Harry to be with.”

A year ago, those comments and many others embarrassed Harry to no end. Now, having a future with Anna didn’t seem so scary. Harry just wished he realized that before the car accident that landed Anna in the head trauma section of Chicago’s Emergency Hospital in the first place.

Last but not least, a picture of Anna sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed filled up the last page of the scrapbook. Her hair was a total mess, as was the sheets and comforter behind her. One of Harry’s t-shirts was the only article of clothing that covered her body, and her hands were in front of her face. Harry remembered taking the picture the last night he saw her before the accident; Four days beforehand, to be exact. It broke his heart all over again to know that if he had stayed for a few more days, maybe spent a little more time with her, that Anna could be alright. She wouldn’t be bruised up or cooped up because of a coma if it were up to him, but he just couldn’t be there. By time he got the drunken phone call telling him that they “couldn’t do this long distance thing anymore”, it was too late.

Harry closed the scrapbook and placed it on the small table next to the bed. He stood up and leaned over Anna, placing small, gentle kisses on her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips, lingering there for a moment before pulling away. There was something about the trip he just took down memory lane that told him he wouldn’t see her again. Alive, or at least barely alive, that is.

“I love you Anna-Beth Simpson,” he whispered, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill at any moment now, “I always have, I always will.”

With that, Harry turned around and walked out of the room, ignoring the doctor’s that frantically started running around after he almost reached the exit. He knew someone had died, but he was too torn to see if it was Anna. Instead, he opened the door and walked outside, staring blankly ahead as he walked to his car wedged somewhere deep in the hospital’s parking lot.

Seeing Anna in a coma was one thing, but seeing her dead was another. His strength only went so far.