Perception

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

If I throw a stick, will you leave?

Unknown

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      I had always found the forced cheerfulness of Matt’s room depressing. Despite his talented interior decorator mother’s efforts, the bright painted walls and sheer curtain always seemed a direct contradiction to the reality of Matt’s condition. A large flat screen was positioned against one wall above the latest Xbox console and games, many still in their plastic wrapper.  She had wanted to cover the floor in a rainbow of different colored circular shag floor rugs but the hospital staff put a stop to that for health and safety reasons.

    Previously, when Matt was going through the denial stage I had helped him trash this room by tearing down the curtains and throwing food against the walls. His parents took it as a sign he was getting his strength back; they hadn’t been aware of our visits.

    Pausing at his door, I dropped my head and spoke to the floor, “My friend is in here. If you do anything to upset him, they will never find your body.”

   Immanuel took a deep breath before responding. “I understand.”

   With a slight nod, I pushed open the door. My eyes moved over all the inconsequential decadence and zeroed in on the white hospital bed. New machines had been placed next to its head with clear tubes and wires connecting them to the motionless figure lying in it.

     Walking forward, I saw the withered shell of my friend resting peacefully. Comically, a badly fitted blonde wig was perched crookedly atop his head. One side hung over his eye, concealing part of the dark purplish smudges that would never go away.

   “Hey, slacker, wake up,” I yelled, gently nudging the bed.

  He awoke with a start, blinking his eyes furiously before settling on my face.

“Amy.” The smile that stretched across his fragile lips was a welcome sight. “You made it. I was afraid you had forgotten about me again.”

   I laughed a hollow sounding laugh. “Geez, you’re never going to believe me, are you. We came and visited but you were asleep,” I protested, remembering the visit from months ago after one of his many surgeries. “So we decided to leave you that way.” I couldn’t tell if he didn’t believe me or if he just liked getting a rise out of me.

   “Yeah, I believe you. Millions wouldn’t, but I do.” Smiling he looked over at Petra but his face dropped when he saw Immanuel. “Who’s this then? Petra honey, don’t tell me you have taken another into your heart.”

  Smiling sweetly she came forward. Removing his wig, she gently ran her hand down his cheek. “Of course not. He’s not my type at all. You know I like them sick and helpless.”

   Matt sniggered and kissed her hand, “Well you can’t tell me he’s Amy’s type. She only likes them when they are six feet under.”

   “Hey,” I cried in mock offence, “I put up with your whiny ass, don’t I?”

   “Yes my dear, but I already have one foot in the grave.” He patted the bed next to my hand, knowing better than to touch me.

   Through this all, Immanuel had stayed silent. Bending down, I grabbed a few articles of clothing from my backpack and thrust them at his chest. He looked at me in confusion for a moment before taking the bundle.

   “Take those and get in there and shower,” I commanded, pointing at the door in the corner.

   “Are these some of the clothes you stole?” he asked.