Light Years Away

1988

I walked into the small hospital with my mother, the faint sound of hundreds of monitors beeping.

I never liked hospitals.

I look around, fiddling with the end of my father's Packers jersey, searching for Peter. I found him sitting in a chair by himself, staring vacantly at a spot on the floor.

"Why don't you go sit with Peter, Melany? Give him some company." She suggested. I nodded lightly and made my way.

I gently sat down next to my best friend, picking up on the music playing from his headphones.

"What song is that?" I asked him, receiving no response. I leaned over, pressing my ear against the outside. I'm Not in Love by 10cc played softly.

"Ooh, I love that song." I said, nudging him a bit, trying to get him to react.

He sat silently.

"Peter, are you okay?" I tried again. He blinked slowly, still focusing on the ground. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not use to him being so quiet. He's always been a bit of a wild child, always cracking a joke or laughing like a lunatic.

"I came here to give you company, Pete. Is that okay?" I asked. His eyes glistened, but never moved.

"You can't hear me." I mumbled defeatedly, turning to face the front. He nudged my arm with his elbow, making me turn my head towards him. He gave me a sad smile, looking towards my bag.

"Whatcha got in there?" He asked. I looked down at it and grabbed it.

"I got my Polaroid mom got me and all my pictures. And some snacks." I said, sifting through it. He looked away after that and stared at the floor again.

I sighed, deciding to give up on trying to distract him. It's obvious that he's got too much on his mind.

My shoes squeaked against the tile as I swung my feet back and forth. I heard the footsteps of someone walking towards us echoing through the quiet hallway.

"Peter, your momma wants to see you." His grandpa said softly. His fingers twitched a little as he looked expectingly between the two of us.

Peter continued to stare at the floor.

His grandad sighed, crouching down in front of him, pulling the headphones off gently. "C'mon, Pete."

Peter glanced up at his grandpa, then turned towards me. His eyes were starting to gloss over as he looked at me, seeming to be searching for an answer.

I nodded slightly, giving him a gentle smile. He turned back and immediately stood up, walking away with his grandpa.

I sat by myself, looking around the room for a bit, then pulled out my Polaroid pictures I took. A lot were of Peter and I, mom liked to take a bunch of pictures. She dreamed of being a photographer once, she said, and that's why she bought a whole bunch of cameras and film to last a lifetime almost, but then she said she had me, and that I was way more amazing than becoming a photographer.

I zipped up my bag with a heavy sigh.

A loud beep rang from the room, and suddenly there was screaming and crying. I looked up quickly, staring in fear as Peter thrashed around in his grandads arms, shouting 'No' over and over again.

"Peter, stay here," his grandad said, looking at him with pain in his eyes, "Please."

Then he ran back into the room, leaving Peter standing in the hallway, his hands and legs shaking.

He suddenly took off in a dead sprint out of the door.

"Peter!" I called out just as the door slammed shut. I quickly grabbed my things and took off after him, running as fast as my little legs could go. His green bag disappeared into the fog, leaving me to chase after him in a blind mess.