Heartbeat ~ a tribute

6.

This chapter is written by my friend Aaron. It's from his perspective. He was Kat's boyfriend, and since Valentines day just passed, I thought he should take this one. It's much longer than the others, but I just let him write. Handing this over to Aaron now.

♡♡♡

When I first saw her, she was in the waiting room. The waiting room, what a depressing place. You sit, and sit, and sit, and sit for hours, hoping, praying that you get good news, or no news at all. More often then not, it's bad news, at least, I'd always remember the bad news. I lived in the hospital, lived there with my dad, and I would never see anyone leave happy. There's always tragedy. Death. And I prayed for every patient, and especially for every person sitting in the waiting room, hugging their knees, hearing the clock on the wall ticked off the moments they'd been waiting. I don't think I ever prayed harder for anyone in my life than Kat. It wasn't only that she was pretty, even though she was very pretty. I know she was, it wasn't even a matter of opinion. No, she was always in the waiting room. All the time, and when you're good at listening, you figure things out. She was there for her friend who'd fallen to a high fever, that friend being the author of this story. I found out that her mom was also kept in the hospital, since she had cancer. I caught her name, Katerina. It was only when I got to know her did Kat become a thing. I suppose it was creepy to study her from afar, but she was just so beautiful, and I was so ugly. I still am ugly of course, but now I don't know who to compare myself with. I was just Aaron, the surgeon's son, the half retarded surgeon's son. Retarded. That was my dad's favorite word to use to describe me. Part of the reason I couldn't talk to her was because of a condition I have called Asperger syndrome or just AD. In my opinion, it's just a diagnosed way to say socially awkward, because it's on the high functioning end of the autism spectrum. The only thing that showed up for me was the inability to socialize, and a strange obsession with language and music. Odd. You can see why nobody would want me. But I was reading through old files and low and behold her surname, on top of a file. It was on her father, and that night I gave it to her, the two of us became friends, so it became easier to talk to her. Not as awkward and stalkerish. I knew that I loved her. How could I not? I'd never met anyone before, social life isn't key in hospitals, and homeschooling doesn't allow for a social life either. It took me a little while to realize that she was going to slip away from me if I didn't do something. So one night, courage came to me and I made the stupidly daring move to kiss her on the lips. It was awkward. I didn't know what to do with myself, and her eyes were wide in surprise. But it was wonderful, the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me at the time. I never wanted it to end then, if only I could just...keep her there forever. Of course, when I pulled away, things went super awkward. Things happen. Monsters exist. In this story, monsters are a common theme. One got me. My dad. It was enough. Enough for me to leave the hospital, and enough to send me to live with Kat. We got together then...well sort of. We would lay together in bed, side by side, talking about our lives. We'd listen to music. She had a wonderful voice, melodious. We'd listen to anything. I'd sing to her in Latin, in French, in any language I brought myself to remember and learn over my years in the hospital. Christmas came. We made cookies. She wore her hair in a bun. Flour got everywhere, mainly because Nicholas threw it everywhere. She scolded us for eating the dough, and she shaped the cookies in their metal cutters. They were amazing, she was simply amazing at everything. We watched Christmas movies, an abundance of them, which was perfectly fine by me. Romantic dramas that Kat called cheesy, but I could only imagine her and I in it. Then New Years Eve, we became official. In other words, Kat finally liked me the way I liked her. We kissed again. I daresay it was better than the first time.

I remember the call we got, telling me my girlfriend was in a car accident, and in critical condition. My first thought was to run. Burst through the door and run to the hospital, because we were too young to drive. That's what we did, we ran. My father had taken his life in the very same hospital, only maybe a month earlier. Lives lost. Every day because not everyone can be saved. And now I was the one in the waiting room. The one anxiously waiting for the news. I couldn't afford to feel. To break down. I was drowning silently, unable to will my legs to push me up out of the water. The clock- why did that awful ticking sound exist? Eventually, we got the news that she would live. Air. Air filled my lungs. She would survive. She would be ok. And surely she woke up. Better than we thought, she remembered all the important things. Her mom. Her dad. Her friends. Her name. Everything that she knew and loved, she held on to.

She didn't remember me.

I suppose I wasn't that important. She was alive, and that's what mattered. But it crushed me. She was my world, and I didn't even exist anymore in hers. I prefer not to think of that. But it's hard to forget. Slowly she remembered bits and pieces of me, but it was never fully restored when she passed. God. The gaping hole it tore when I found out she was dead. Died on the table. The look on the surgeon's face as he said, "We did everything we could."
It isn't fair or wise to blame the  surgeon, but I did that. If only she had a chance. I didn't even get to say goodbye, didn't even get to see her before she died. That right there, was the worst moment of my life. Worse than anything my dad did, worse than her not remembering my name. I wanted to marry her one day. We were kids, but I knew she was my everything from then. I never got to tell her everything I thought. I never got to tell her what I knew when I first met her- that I loved her. I loved her more than anything. I could only hope she already knew that, and she died knowing.

Because I knew, somewhere, that she loved me too.

♡♡♡