The Exchange Student || n. j. s.

|| twenty three ||

I held his hand in mine and I looked into his closed eyes.  "Hang in there." I weakly said to him, tears starting to form.

I was at his hospital room, giving him a visit. After what happened at the prom last week, me and Nathan got him to the hospital, not minding if we were wearing gowns or suits; Andrew needed help.

The doctors said that he was getting sicker by the day — not better, which made us worry more. He doesn't have his parents anymore, and I never got to see Jireh when she visits. So we visit him almost every after school to check on him, to help him hold on.

Today, he was the sickest he's ever been; he vomits every hour and sometimes have trouble breathing because of his weak lungs. But he can make it, I know he can.

I felt his hand grasp mine, his eyes — red with dark bags under it, trying hard to stay open. His breathing looks so tough it makes me uncomfortable.

But behind that, he forced a small smile to me as a response.

I just stared at him, I never ever thought that Andrew, the guy that is so sweet, so bubbly, could end up so weak in a hospital bed. I want to talk to him, the way we used to talk in the library. I want to hear his voice. I want to see him smile.  

"Okay, let's play game," I said with a small smile — to at least make this visit memorable by making it fun somehow. I reached out my hand to the other side to grab his'. The tears sinking back in my eyes.  

"I just made this up like five seconds ago, so bear with me, okay." His smile grew a little. "This is called 'The Remembering Game' or something, and it just basically tests how much you remember about things."

I laughed for a bit, thinking this is the best game ever invented. "So, I'm going to state things that I remember and you.. um.. you squeeze my hand if you remember it too. Yeah?"

He squeezed my hand.

"So, let's start..." I tried to remember all the things we did together and memories came flooding in my head.

"Do you remember the first time you read my poem?" I asked, even though I know he does.

He squeezed my hand. His small smile returning.

"Or the time you got those two boys to wear giant strawberries on their head?" I strongly remember that moment. A small squeeze was felt.  

"The first time you saw me as a brunette?" His reaction there was hilarious. Another squeeze; it's a great feeling knowing that he's reacting to what I'm saying, knowing he's still here.

"How about the time you gave me a blue bike on my birthday?" He squeezed my hand again in response; the tightest squeeze so far.  Which gave me have an emotional awe. I only rode that bike four times.

I saw his mouth open slightly and heard a silent tune; he's trying to say something.

Through hard and clogged up vibrations from his chest; I can make out what he was saying, even though it's painful to see him trying hard to say it.

"Ha..ppy  Birth...day J..Jane..."

The tears were fighting to come out again. I don't know how to respond. What he said and they way he said it just gave me so much unexplained emotions that it caused the first water droplet to fall out of my eyes. I don't even know why he said that — my birthday was months ago.

His hand glided out of mine and I watched as he slowly and weakly raised it and placed it on top on my shoulder.  I looked at his face — he gave me that smile with pained eyes.