The Anatomy of a Parody Heart

giving up

White walls.

White ceiling.

Everything is white. Everything is always white. Clinical white. 

Hospital white.

And Dan.

It is Dan that Enzo sees first. Sitting on a white white chair, by the white white wall. White suits him. Everything suits him.

And then Enzo sees Mum. She is not sitting, but standing - standing by his bed. Holding Faith's hand and Ren's hand, and crying.

At first, Enzo doesn't recognise her. His mum, in a hospital. His mum, out of her room.

She is thin and straggly and bird-like, with those same, stringy, black mascara marks on her cheeks. Except that this time, she is wearing a loose white blouse, not a nightgown, and creased brown trousers - and the worry lines around her eyes are deeper than Enzo has ever seen them.

"Mr Callahan?"

The door opens, revealing the doctor, tall and balding, and in clean white scrubs. There is a stethoscope around his neck.

His eyes land on Enzo. He smiles. "Ah, good. You're awake."

Enzo looks at the doctor. Looks at Dan. "Why am I here?"

A pause.

Enzo is still looking at Dan - looking at Dan, in his tux, still so smart, still so beautiful - but it is the doctor that is the first to speak up. 

"As I have been told," he says, "you were knocked unconscious by a group of teenagers in the carpark of your school – those of which, I believe, provoked you enough that you attacked them. None of you have sustained more than a few minor injuries, you'll be glad to hear, and the ambulance men say – "

"Wait. You called an ambulance?" Enzo stares at Dan.

"Yes," Dan says, "I did."

There are worry lines around his eyes, too.

The doctor clears his throat.

"I have been led to believe that your attack on these teenagers had something to do with a certain - how do I put it - lack of control," the doctor continues. "Thus, it is similar to the occurrence with your father, a few weeks ago. None of this, I'm afraid, is good news." He heaves a sigh. "Stimulating your breathing was an event we put in place in an attempt to slow down your body's attack on your heart. But recent evaluation - and the events of last night - all seem to show that this is not having quite the effect we intended. In fact, it's - well - it's not really having any effect at all."

It is only now that Enzo realises that his cannula is gone. His cannula is gone, and he is back to no more oxygen. No more tubes. No more breathing.

Enzo hates how much of a relief this is.

"So," he says, "so, you're just giving up. Right?"

The doctor winces. Rubs his jaw. "No, not giving up," he says, "more like - more like putting things into perspective. You see, we're fighting a losing battle here. You're just - this is just...simply not meant to be. Our heart is what keeps us alive. And without it - without it - "

"We're dead," Enzo finishes. "That's what you're trying to say, isn't it? So just say it. What am I going to do? Sue you? I don't have the time. And anyway - what do I care? I can't feel this. I'm not upset. I'm not angry. I'm going to die. Fine. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually." The doctor passes a hand over his face. "You might - you might want to start thinking about - about a will. Inheritance. Last wishes. That sort of thing. I hate this, Enzo. I really do. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Enzo says. "You're losing one of your highest paid experiments. I should be sorry."

"I wish there was more that we could do for you," the doctor says.

"Yeah," Enzo says. He looks at Dan.

Dan's mouth trembles.

"So do I."