| Chapter Eleven |
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--------------------------�-------------------------- [ Daniel ] ��Hey, Dan, I�m going to get lunch� want anything?� �I looked up, blinked. �No thanks, I�m good.� ��You sure?� Ben gave one of those �knowing� looks, as if to say, �I know what you did. Just because it�s over doesn�t mean I�ve forgotten.� I simply nodded. It had been a week since I�d passed out in Darren�s apartment and the hospital had released me after two days. I�d been staying at the hotel room they�d given us although my days were spent in Darren�s room. After the first visit, I�d been afraid to ask about his official diagnosis. There were so many things I�d feared. What if he was in a permanent coma? What if he was a vegetable? I don�t think I�d be able to stand knowing that Darren was alive but couldn�t move or speak. It was hard to imagine him not smiling, laughing. �It wasn�t as bad as I�d feared, although it wasn�t good to say the least. From what I�d been able to gather, he was in severe shock. No one knew how long it�d be before he woke up, and for the first few days they�d kept him sedated. But I was afraid of what would happen when he woke up. After being thrown through the windshield, Darren had practically crushed his skull and had undergone a grueling thirteen-hour reconstructive operation. They weren�t sure how badly his brain had been damaged, which was a blow in itself. �My imagination went wild: what if his personality had been affected? What if he awoke to be a totally different person? I wasn�t sure how common that was with cases like his. There were also more frightening possibilities that my mind almost didn�t dare to touch upon: what if his memory had been affected? What if he could no longer speak or walk? What if he was still the same Darren, but couldn�t remember it? Short-term memory loss, I knew, was quite common. �There was also the possibility that he�d never wake up at all. �And I wasn�t quite sure I could handle that. �Which brought me to my current position: hunched over in an uncomfortable canvas chair, listening to the slow, electronic rhythm of Darren�s heartbeats on the monitor. Never wavering, never ceasing. �I�d moved the chair from its previous position along the far wall to his bedside. The rest of the room wasn�t much different from the room I�d stayed in, save for the surges of get-well cards and flowers from various friends, family, and fans surrounding the nightstand. I was strangely glad my stays hadn�t been long enough to get that sort of response. It was beautiful and hopeful, yet also tragic in a way. I wondered if all the good will from everyone would be enough to make Darren come back. �Ben had exited off to some restaurant or another, leaving me alone in the room. Sort of. I shifted quietly, leaning one of my elbows against the sterile-sheeted mattress with a timid, mouse-like yawn. Once again, I let my vision occupy Darren: cold, pale, lifeless. �Porcelain� a silent, sleeping doll. And that description seemed all too fitting. I wished he�d open his eyes, breaking the illusion that he was nothing more than a painting. ��� Dazza� I�m so sorry.� I tried to swallow the growing lump hanging in my throat. Of course, he didn�t reply. Was I expecting him to? �I just want you to open your eyes. I-is that too much to ask?� �How foolish you were to think you could be strong through this. I slumped, not caring whether my eyes watered or not and wishing I had all the answers. Just think, I told myself, once he gets out of this, you can laugh about how foolish you�ve been acting. Although my heart was saying otherwise. Sure, Darren knew I loved him� but I�d come to realize in the last few days that there was something more than love or friendship holding me here. I had no idea what it was� but there was some force, some deep personal affliction keeping me pinned to him. Once again I wished that I knew everything. To the unknown, to where you are Faith makes everybody scared It�s the unknown; I don�t know what keeps me hanging on �I didn�t know what it was� that�s what my mind kept wandering to. There were so many things in this story that weren�t making sense� that I didn�t know anything about and couldn�t change even if I did. Ironically, I said aloud to myself, �Darren� I wish you were here to help me figure out why I need you so much. To help me figure out what�s wrong with you.� �Shut up with the babbling� just please make all the clatter stop. I could hardly hear myself think. I felt as though I were sinking into a deep hole, being pulled beneath the surface by the undertow of my own sinking ship. I know that if I could have been able to stand beside myself at that moment, I�d have seen a truly pathetic sight: disheveled, bandaged, sleep-deprived, and battered (emotionally and physically). What I was really ashamed of other than all of that was now that Darren was gone, the real me was showing. I had no one else to hide behind. �But this isn�t about you. �The sheets beneath me were cold and uncomfortable. Too cold, too hard, too raspy. The room itself was cold. Strangely cold. An odd, deathlike cold complimented only by silence. It truly was a melancholy room. �Idly, one of my fingertips traced tiny circles along the (colder still) side of the bed, trailing up and down in an endless run. Anything, I supposed, to occupy my mind at the moment. Suddenly, I felt warmth. Startled, I glanced up to notice my fingers splayed over Darren�s. And for some reason that I�d never be able to explain, I felt relief. Relief in knowing that he wasn�t as cold and grey as the rest of the room� the rest of the world. I stared for the longest of times, pacified by the strange relief that seemed to radiate around me like static through the air. �� Darren� the only constant in my life. My sanity, my inspiration, my harbor in
the tempest� �I just wished he�d wake up. I wished that he�d move if he could. I wished it so
bad that I was shaking. I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, trying to
control myself. I wish you could see how much everyone misses you. How much
we all want you to get better again. How much I want you to wake up. Give me a
sign? Anything? Please� �Please� �Open your eyes, say something, squeeze my hand� anything! �Although my prayer to my idol went unspoken, Darren�s hand clasped around my own. ��Oh, God! DARREN!� I shrieked in surprise and adoration. My heart was racing, my mind was tripping, time had stopped moving. He heard you, he knows, look, Daniel! Everything�s going to be okay! I couldn�t help it as tears welled in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks and onto the (warm) sheets. �Darren� oh� thank God!� I cried. �Only then did I realize that his eyes weren�t open. �Only then did I notice that the short, stacatto beats of his heart had become one flat, ominous hum... |
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