Since He Left ✓

16: Reliving Memories

This whole chapter is a flashback. 

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"Maman!" my voice cracks under the scream, an attempt to call on my mother. "Grayson, what have you done," I whisper. It sounds more like a statement than a question. I whisper his name frantically as I crouch beside his body, taking his face in both hands. While Grayson is on the bed, something is on the floor. A pill. The medicine bottle on the nightstand, I snatch the medicine bottle to take a closer look as Maman comes hurrying in. Camille Ferris the bottle reads, this isn't my brother's medicine.

"Oh god, Grayson!" she walks in, stumbling towards her son. His eyelids are closed, his mouth open, and his hands spread beside his waist. My brother's chestnut brown hair is ruffled on the pillow. Maman pulls her hands to her mouth, her hand blocking the threatening muffled cries.

"Do something! Call the police!" My voice seems like a forced jump in cold water to her, awakening. She runs out the door for a moment and comes back with a phone in her hand, her fingers pressing the three digits. 9l1.

It had all been a blur, nothing visible but Grayson's body as they had put him in the ambulance. My mind was racing and still is. He lies in front of me, my brother. Grayson looks pale, you would think he's lifeless. But I have the monitor to reassure me that he's very much alive, his steady heartbeat recording on the screen above him. Nurses have been in and out ever since we came in the hospital door; measuring his pulse, updating his chart, and checking in ever now and then. His eyelids continue to stay shut, I want to see his eyes more than anything in this moment. Maybe, seeing his eyes would give me hope. 

The faintest confidence that my brother will be okay, that he'll be just alright as long as he opens his dead-looking eyelids. Grayson's tall, always been taller than me. I used to suggest for him to start basketball, telling him that his height would most likely be an great advantage to him and a his team. Despite my recommendation, he always shook it off and for some reason decided otherwise. Then I realized why, he was always alone—socially. My brother had always been independent; chose to do school projects by himself rather than in a group, and was never invited to weekend hangouts. As far as I knew, he didn't really have friends. Sure, he talked to people, but it was never more than that. Sometimes I would feel bad for him, but then again I reminded myself that he maybe actually liked it that way.

Exactly three days had gone by since I had found my brother on his bed, each day longer than the other. I had missed school to be here, to sit on a chair for several hours a day. I lived off cup noodles from the vending machine in the lobby of the hospital, and at night I would return home to sleep and return back to his side. Maman however, sat by her son's side twenty-four seven, not leaving her chair unless she urgently needed the bathroom. My mother's puffy hazel eyes wouldn't take their sight off him. The hours dragged by, I thought death was going to come visit me in that hospital room. Until his eyes fluttered open to the sound of my voice.

"Grayson, Grayson please," I whisper into his ear. My mother has for once drifted off in her chair, her head lays uncomfortably on her shoulder. "C'mon buddy, you've been asleep too damn long." My right hand comes up to his shoulder, shaking him a little. "I know you're not dead. Your heart's working and you're breathing fine; Grayson, it's all up to you now," a tear blurs my eye until it falls down on one of his cheeks below me. It was as if I heard a low breath coming from him, almost inaudible. I wiped my face tear-free, gasped as I realized what was happening. He was finally waking up. Looking to his eyes, I see the blue in them. That beautiful color I've been dying to catch for days, my blue sign of hope.

"Isla?" His voice comes out with a low cough, "wait, wha— what?" He looks confused, his thick brown brows furrowing. He tries to get up but I lightly put a hand on his chest to keep him down.

"Oh, thank god you're awake. You can't get up, stay still. You're in the hospital," relief rushes through me, happiness filling up inside. "Maman, he's awake!" In less than a moment worth's of time she's standing beside her son, holding his hand. She begins to sob and orders for me to call a nurse, tell them he's awake. Scurrying to open the door, I run out and call the nearest nurse. The brown haired woman, who's walking with blood samples in hand, leaves her things and walks back in with me.

"The doctor has just informed me," Maman began looking at Grayson on the bed, "that you have to stay overnight, just to make sure you're completely fine." I stand beside the window where the light shines brightly inside the room, morning settling ien. "Look, Grayson. I need to know what happened, exactly. Did —did you try to commit suicide?" The pain was visible on her face, I could see that she wished for an unexpected answer. Like 'oh, no. I'd never try to kill myself, a whole bottle of pills just accidentally slipped into my mouth.'

"Without the crap, please. We all know he tried to kill himself. That shouldn't be your question, it should 'why?'" I spoke up, letting my eyes drift away from the sun and into Grayson's eyes. "Why did you try?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I really don't know. It just happened," my brother numbly continues. He looks bad, but nonetheless better than he did when I first found him in his bedroom. His action could have changed our lives, turned everything upside down. If he had been successful, if I hadn't found him...

"Grayson, I love you and all but seriously, cut the crap. What do you mean 'it just happened'? Why did you want to end your life, I thought you were happy?" I want to hit rock bottom, find out why he did what he had done.

"That's the problem! People think I'm happy, but I'm not," he confesses, Maman looks beyond confused, "I don't want to live anymore. Having schizophrenia ruins your whole god damn life!"

After our earlier conversation, Grayson admitted things that he clearly hadn't wanted to before. He had surprised both Maman and I, things were said that we had never thought of before. He mentioned something about people treating him differently and how he always was alone. I recommended that my mother and I go home for some hours and come back again, I wanted to give him some space to think. Maman agreed, only because she knew he'd be supervised by nurses, and so we went home. After having showered, eaten a proper meal, and packed an outfit for Grayson, Maman and I return to the hospital. Only to find out that he isn't there.