Affinity (RDJ)

Chapter 5 - Progress

Before you know it, it's Thursday night and you're exhausted from your first full week at college. Your classes, although not too hard yet, have been full on, and you're ready to rest up over the weekend.

You've just finished your bowl of instant noodles when your dad walks through the door after being at the hospital visiting mom. 'Hey, dad,' you greet him, smiling. He looks like he's aged 10 years since the accident. His hair has grown out, beard a constant 5 o'clock shadow. It's awful what it's doing to him. He must be exhausted waiting around like this. It would probably be easier if-

No. Stop thinking like that. It's good that he has something to hold on to.

'Hey, kiddo,' he smiles, squeezing your shoulder as he walks past you to the kitchen. 'How was your day?'

'Pretty good. How's mom?' He's always vague in his responses. Tries to conceal the fact that nothing is changing and probably never will.

'She's just the same, sweetie. I did overhear the neurosurgeon saying something about experimental treatment to one of the other doctors though so we'll see if anything comes of that.' He smiles at you, tired and not really believing his own words.

You smile back, taking your bowl to the sink. 'Well that's good, right?'

He sighs, nodding. 'Yeah, sure. Goodnight, honey.'

He starts to walk towards the hall as you call out, 'Hey, can I come with you? Saturday? Be nice to see her - it's been a while.' You're genuine, but you know you're really doing this for him rather than yourself.

He stops and turns around and you're sure you see his eyes well up in the dim light of the hallway. 'I'd really like that, Rem,' he replies, nodding reassuringly with a half-smile on his face. You nod back and he heads to bed.

Lying in your bed, you stare at your alarm clock. '4:30am. 4:30am. 4:30am. 4:30am,' you repeat in your head like a mantra. Maybe if you say it enough, you'll actually fall asleep. You're tired, but sleep just doesn't come. Your brain is overthinking and just won't switch off for long enough to allow you sleep.

The worst part about all of this (aside from the obvious) is the guilt you feel for living. And then feeling guilty for the guilt you feel. Because your sister would love to be living right now. And she would live. She'd really live. Yet here you are, hankering after another hour in bed and wasting your life away reliving the past, regretting the fact that you have a future and she doesn't.

You sigh and close your eyes, willing sleep to take you.

It's no good. You need to get up.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the thick carpet between your toes. You sit for a while, staring into the darkness.

You used to be scared of opening your eyes in the dark. Scared that you'd glimpse something uninvited out of the corner of your eye or see a face in the mirror staring back at you.

You aren't afraid of that any more. You aren't really afraid of anything any more. You've faced the worst, and nothing will ever be scarier than that.

You get to your feet and walk to the wardrobe. You flip the hinged mirror aside, pull out a pair of black skinny jeans and a red hoodie and change out of your pyjamas. Inspecting your eye bags in the mirror, you wonder whether these past few months have aged you as much as they have aged your dad.

You smile at the thought of him. You love your dad. He's a great guy and he's been there for you through everything, but you can't help but notice how old and hagged he's starting to look.

Then you remember that you're going to the hospital with him tomorrow and hope that it makes him feel a little better knowing he has company.

You apply some concealer to your eye bags, just in case.