The Imperfect Author

Chapter Two: The Emotionless Boy

The hospital stayed open late on Saturdays, and Nicole stopped by after work.

She traced her way down the white tiled hallways, knowing every bland painting on the walls by heart.

She came here often.

Her mother was in room 104, with the door shut and family only written neatly on the plaque beside her door.

She didn't have any family apart from Nicole.

Nicole's mother was awake when she opened the door, sipping her diet Ginger Ale through a pink, bendy straw.

Her face didn't change as she saw her only child peer tentatively through the door.

"Hello, mum," Nicole greeted her, coming to sit in the floral patterned recliner next to the bed.

Kelly merely nodded in greeting, her eyes boring a hole into the painting of a beach and ocean skyline that was hung on the wall across from her bed.

"So," Nicole cleared her throat awkwardly, shifting in the chair. "I'm writing a story."

When her mother didn't respond, she continued.

"It's about a perfect world, but things start to change. You're the main character, and you go on adventures and meet unicorns and...stuff." Nicole looked down at the linoleum floor, suddenly feeling very childish and stupid.

"Why don't you write about yourself?" Kelly asked, laying her head back on the pillows and closing her eyes.

"No one likes a sad story," mumbled Nicole.

"Oh, boohoo," Kelly mocked her, "You're not the one with terminal cancer," She pointed out, and Nicole nodded even though she couldn't see her.

Her mother's illness wasn't the only thing making Nicole sad.

Her whole life was a mess, and sometimes she wished someone else would write the story of her life, making it happy.

"How's Evan?" Her mother asked, changing the topic.

Nicole gulped. Evan, her long-term boyfriend,

"He's fine," she lied through her teeth.

Evan wasn't fine. He was tired.

He was tired of Nicole, with her head in the clouds. He was tired of her boring life, never being able to give him what he wanted.

He was tired of dealing with her depression.

And she was tired of making him tired.

Evan wanted to progress their relationship, and Nicole was terrified of change.

She read ten cliché manuscripts a week, and didn't want her relationship to turn sour like it did in the novels.

Nicole wanted the happy ending she knew she would never have.

--

The apartment was dark when Nicole got home.

Evan was watching a movie on the bed, and didn't look up when she opened the door and flipped on the kitchen light.

She saw that he was watching the first Harry Potter, her favorite movie.

He hadn't waited for her.

She climbed into bed next to him, snuggling into the warm blankets.

"Hey," she said, looking up at him.

"Hey," he replied, eyes fixed on the screen.

If she wrote a story about Evan, she would make him happy and full of life, like the boy he used to be.

He would be bursting with the spirit of adventure, exploding with confidence. No one wanted to read a story about a tired, emotionless boy.

Nicole turned her face into the pillow, shutting her eyes and thinking about her story.

The perfect story, about a world she wished was real.