Sometimes
One
"Hello, Mrs. McHenry. How are you feeling today?"
The woman on the bed smiles weakly. "I've seen better times, but who's complaining? I get room service and everything!"
The doctor lets out a light chuckle. "I'm glad everything is to your liking," he says softly, diverting his attention to the ceiling. His arms can’t decide whether they want to stay at his sides or at his chest.
"What is it?”
"What is what?" he responds, trying to put off the inevitable for at least a few seconds.
"Well remember when your father said it was pronounced doctor, not actor?” He shakes his head in amusement. “He was kind of right." This elicits another chuckle from him. “You’re just like my daughter.” His expression immediately changes.
“How so?”
“She laughs when she’s nervous too,” she says with a knowing smile. He sighs. “It’s okay.”
“Mrs. McHenry…”
“Please, call me Susan.”
“It appears that the treatment is not working.” Silence falls over the room. Her brow furrows for a few minutes before answering with certainty.
“I’ll be fine.”
“The problem is, Mrs. McHenry, that we’ve tried everything that we could. This treatment was our last resort and at this stage, there isn’t really anything we can do.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Mrs. McHenry, you do realize wha–”
“I will be fine. Don’t you worry about me. Whether my daughter and husband will be fine is a different concern.” At this point the sad smile seems to be tattooed to his face. However, the most important question still remains. “How much?” she asks, more of statement rather than a question.
“Anywhere from two to three months.” She nods and falls silent, contemplating for a moment.
“That is more than enough time. Thank you.”
“There is nothing to thank me for,” he mumbles.
“But of course there is. You tried your best. I am aware of that. For that I will be forever grateful.” He quickly nods and excuses himself, clearly trying his best to remain composed.
Death sucks. I’ve had enough of the euphemisms and glorifications. Everything happens for a reason they say. If that’s true, pigs can fly.
Or maybe there are reasons behind everything. Stupid ass reasons that don’t even deserve to have a spot in the plane of existence. What do I know? Obviously not enough to be entrusted with the information that my foundation was wasting away until she was completely gone.
In books and in movies and in the news and around me families always seem to go through hardships. But in the end everyone is fine, more united than ever, they have learned from their mistakes, the same thing never happens again, hearts and flowers, rainbows and unicorns, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Bullshit.
Broken families take a long time to mend, if ever. Words can’t be taken back, wounds are never fully healed. Sometimes the people that should hold your hand use you as a punching bag instead. Sometimes anger is stronger than love. Sometimes things are never the same. Sometimes you’re on your own. Things can be forgiven, but they can never be forgotten. But sometimes there is no chance for them to be forgiven, much less forgotten.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death. There will be no memorials, no warm embraces, no consolation. Just a frail, spindly girl, crumpled in front of a gravestone in a mess of arms and legs. Just a howling wind that tears the chest apart, followed by the daily hollow of life.
I remember her last real words to me. “Annabelle, remember that love is strong.” At the time I was confused. But now I know. Love is strong? Obviously not strong enough.
The woman on the bed smiles weakly. "I've seen better times, but who's complaining? I get room service and everything!"
The doctor lets out a light chuckle. "I'm glad everything is to your liking," he says softly, diverting his attention to the ceiling. His arms can’t decide whether they want to stay at his sides or at his chest.
"What is it?”
"What is what?" he responds, trying to put off the inevitable for at least a few seconds.
"Well remember when your father said it was pronounced doctor, not actor?” He shakes his head in amusement. “He was kind of right." This elicits another chuckle from him. “You’re just like my daughter.” His expression immediately changes.
“How so?”
“She laughs when she’s nervous too,” she says with a knowing smile. He sighs. “It’s okay.”
“Mrs. McHenry…”
“Please, call me Susan.”
“It appears that the treatment is not working.” Silence falls over the room. Her brow furrows for a few minutes before answering with certainty.
“I’ll be fine.”
“The problem is, Mrs. McHenry, that we’ve tried everything that we could. This treatment was our last resort and at this stage, there isn’t really anything we can do.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Mrs. McHenry, you do realize wha–”
“I will be fine. Don’t you worry about me. Whether my daughter and husband will be fine is a different concern.” At this point the sad smile seems to be tattooed to his face. However, the most important question still remains. “How much?” she asks, more of statement rather than a question.
“Anywhere from two to three months.” She nods and falls silent, contemplating for a moment.
“That is more than enough time. Thank you.”
“There is nothing to thank me for,” he mumbles.
“But of course there is. You tried your best. I am aware of that. For that I will be forever grateful.” He quickly nods and excuses himself, clearly trying his best to remain composed.
Death sucks. I’ve had enough of the euphemisms and glorifications. Everything happens for a reason they say. If that’s true, pigs can fly.
Or maybe there are reasons behind everything. Stupid ass reasons that don’t even deserve to have a spot in the plane of existence. What do I know? Obviously not enough to be entrusted with the information that my foundation was wasting away until she was completely gone.
In books and in movies and in the news and around me families always seem to go through hardships. But in the end everyone is fine, more united than ever, they have learned from their mistakes, the same thing never happens again, hearts and flowers, rainbows and unicorns, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Bullshit.
Broken families take a long time to mend, if ever. Words can’t be taken back, wounds are never fully healed. Sometimes the people that should hold your hand use you as a punching bag instead. Sometimes anger is stronger than love. Sometimes things are never the same. Sometimes you’re on your own. Things can be forgiven, but they can never be forgotten. But sometimes there is no chance for them to be forgiven, much less forgotten.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death. There will be no memorials, no warm embraces, no consolation. Just a frail, spindly girl, crumpled in front of a gravestone in a mess of arms and legs. Just a howling wind that tears the chest apart, followed by the daily hollow of life.
I remember her last real words to me. “Annabelle, remember that love is strong.” At the time I was confused. But now I know. Love is strong? Obviously not strong enough.
Notes
I finally decided to give this another go. I renamed the story and restarted it, but it'll still have the same basic plot as before and some of the old chapters will mix their way in. I just wasn't really satisfied with the way it was before, hope you all understand. Tell me what you think and thanks for all your support! :)
@ourboysRthebest
Exactly - I couldn't have said it better myself :) Just take your time - i'm sure your story will be amazing no matter what. You have great writing skills and I can't wait to read your story. I'm currently working on a new story, I already have like 4 chapters but I won't post them yet because i'm not satisfied yet and I want this story to be more personal since my current is very unpersonal and didn't really end the way I wanted. But I can't wait to post the story I've been working on it for a week now and I already feel like i'm heading the right way - but it is kinda different from "Does he know" :-) And I really want to make sure i'm happy with it so I don't have to feel bad after posting a chapter, which I did a few times with "Does he know". But i'm so happy that you're still subscribing!
Anyways - keep up the good work and don't stress about it. Just take the time you need.
7/12/14