Memoirs

For the Life of Me

She was always the one keeping him together, despite all odds. Through the storm of hospital rooms, white-clad nurses and grim-faced doctors, she had always been by his side, never wavering. He only wished he could return the favor, despite how impossible that was. It was already too late for him, he knew, even with all she'd done. His disease had taken its toll on his fragile body, leaving behind a mere shell of the person who he once was, who he could have become. Even so, she stayed by his side, day in and night out, quietly holding his hand. It would never change — so she said.

He well remembered the first time he saw her: dirty-faced but exuberant, oblivious to the fact that she'd somehow managed to wander onto his aunt's estate. He remembered helping her inside, bandaging up her rock-scraped knees as she babbled on about nothing in particular. He even remembered the way her voice had sounded to him then, alluring and beautiful despite its encasement in a thirteen-year-old body. She came back nearly every day after that, probably wondering about the strange pale-haired boy who sat alone on the same bench every day, his face turned up to the sun.

Her name was Julia, she soon informed him, and she lived in town with her sister. They had just moved in from out of state, having recently closed their deceased parents' financial affairs. She had a cat named Charlie, she lamented, that had eaten her goldfish last Tuesday. Every day, she would mindlessly prattle on about nothing in particular, but he never minded. He'd never had a friend before, cooped up in his room as he'd been for most of his life. He barely knew anything about life beyond the tiny microcosm of his aunt's property; Julia could have been reading a dictionary to him, and it would have been just as interesting. Despite the pallid sort of life he'd lived previously — and was sure he'd live until his untimely death — her appearance seemed to bring a spark of color back into his hopeless existence. Her warm laughter and happy smiles were suddenly something he began to look forward to, despite the inherent difficulties he faced in his infirmity.

He made progress for a while, against all odds. It was heartening for all, and surprising especially in his own mind. When he was ten, professionals had predicted that he wouldn't live past the age of thirteen or fourteen; those years flew by all too quickly, though. By year fifteen, even his aunt had begun to wonder if those doctors had been wrong, if he was finally on the mend. Julia opened new avenues of thought to him, took him on little adventures around the acres of his aunt's land that left them breathless and laughing by the time the sun set each day. Maybe this was what it was like to be alive, he'd wonder, to live without fear of a sudden death. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to live the rest of his life like this: happy, breathless, with Julia at his side and the sun at his back, forever and always. He wanted it so badly that it hurt.

Life doesn't always give you what you want, though, and the truth of that finally seemed to catch up with him the next year. They were sixteen when his health began to deteriorate again, and their adventures were indefinitely moved from the front lawn to his bedroom. That Christmas, he was admitted into the hospital for observation after the stability of his heart was compromised — and while he was released again after almost a month, he was given strict orders to stay in bed for the foreseeable future. It was a hopeless situation, but Julia still continued to come back, attempting to cheer him up with happy smiles that barely reached her eyes. The guilt was overwhelming; he was the reason that she seemed so unhappy, that she had to fake optimism. If he hadn't forced himself to keep up with her, maybe he would still be well now...

But despite his qualms, he refused to blame her for any of it. He'd always known he was dying, after all, even if she hadn't.

Two months before his seventeenth birthday, he was admitted into the hospital again after passing out on the stairs, a result of repeated heart troubles. When Julia's tear-streaked face made an appearance the day after, he feebly joked about his clumsiness, his voice no higher than a whisper. There were plenty of things he should have said to her instead, all of them concerning the rapidly approaching end. He could feel that he wouldn't make it home again this time — but even so, it wasn't something he could bring himself to tell his best friend. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he wanted to keep that cheerful smile on Julia's face for just a while longer...

Almost three days later, he suddenly fell unconscious; the doctors proclaimed that he had entered a coma. Julia kept a near constant vigil at his bedside, broken by only the most human of necessities. His aunt filled her place on those occasions, striving hard to keep her teary face blank, if nothing else. They both sat in silence beside him, each one lost in her own thoughts and fears. Through the darkness he'd fallen into, he could make out nothing but the leaden weight that seemed to envelop his entire being, cumbersome and stifling. His sleep-fogged mind gave him only one thought of any clarity through it all: more than anything, he wished he could see her face again, just once more...

The faint but constant pressure on his hand went unreturned; cold moisture dripped down onto his motionless arm and saturated the thin material of his hospital gown. Was this the end? There was so much he didn't want to leave behind, but it all seemed rather insignificant in the midst of the cold nothingness that had taken hold of him. He was sinking, sinking...

Her voice abruptly brought him out of the dark one day, accompanied by a rush of sudden heat. The faint light pressing against the backs of his eyelids told him he was still alive, as did the EKG beeping annoyingly in the background, displaying his unsteady, irregular heartbeat. Julia was crying somewhere, a sound that tore at his heart as he struggled for consciousness. Her cold, shaky hands maintained a constant grip on his.

"Come back," she was saying, barely a whisper. "Caper, I miss you..."

The room was filled only with the steady sound of his breathing behind the oxygen mask after that, the intermittent noises of hospital machinery chattering on in the distance. A sniffle — and then she squeezed his hand more tightly, her voice growing stern.

"Don't you dare leave me, Caper! Don't you ever—"

He would have laughed if he'd had the strength to do so, and if she hadn't sounded so distraught, choking off into sobs again. He could feel himself gradually slipping away again, his strength failing him as he strained towards the sound of her voice Would this be the last time he would hear it? He couldn't say for certain. Still, he couldn't go without letting Julia know that he'd heard her. It wasn't good of him to worry her like this...

The darkness pressed in too quickly, exhausting his movements before he had a chance to carry them out. One finger twitched, and then another. Was that all he could do? No, he had to try harder, for her sake. His consciousness began to scatter like chaff in the wind, scrambling his thoughts — all but one, that is. There was one thing he had left to do, the most important thing, before he was gone for good. Gathering up all his energy and willpower both, he fought against the darkness, forcing his eyes open inch by torturous inch. Her startled visage met his wondering gaze at long last, streaked with tears; he smiled in spite of himself, an expression that barely stretched his lips more than an inch.

This was what he would be leaving behind... So not fair.

"Caper?"

Her voice was shaky, surprised, fighting against desperate hope. He didn't blame her — he wouldn't have believed his eyes, either. This brief period of lucidity wouldn't last, though. His vision was already beginning to tunnel; it wouldn't be long now. Painstakingly, he let his gaze linger on every feature of her face, committing it all to memory so he wouldn't ever forget. This was what he wanted his last memory to be: the face of the girl who had given him so much to live for.

His eyes finally slipped shut again — and from wherever he was falling into, he felt her grip on his hand tighten disbelievingly as his breathing gradually slowed... then stopped.

In the background, the EKG began its shrill lament.

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This was written for a local writing contest, and the word limit was 1500 words, hence why it's so short and abrupt. I didn't have much of a chance to develop the plot with those constraints, but I think I did passably with what I was given. The deadline was just a few days ago, so I won't hear about the results for a few months at least.

Julia isn't my character, actually; I was given permission to use her for this entry by her owner, one of my friends from my days roleplaying on Instagram. She's a cutie, so I couldn't resist, lol.