Coma (Slowly Editing)

Day 20

 

I stared at the door. My hands felt clammy and I was pretty sure I was sweating through my socks. I don’t think I can do this. I’ll probably screw it up and make them cry and then all our efforts will be for nothing. I think I’m going to throw up. I should just go, yup, going back home sounds like an excellent idea right now. I turned around. But before I could do anything, Tara grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me back to face the house.

“We’ve gone through this a thousand times, young lady, you can’t run now,” she said.

“But – ”

“Think of Seymour,” Sophie whispered from behind me. “You’re doing it for Seymour.”

I took a deep breath.

“Okay,” I said, chanting the words like they were a mantra. “Okay, okay, affirmative, Anna. You can do this.” I reached out and knocked the door. When there was no reply, I knocked it again. A few seconds later, I heard shuffling sounds from the other side. Then the door opened just wide enough for a slim woman to stand in.

“Sorry, we’re not accepting any gifts for him,” she said coldly and moved away.

“No, Mrs. Harris, wait!” I yelled. I jammed my leg between the doors and then immediately regretted it as a jab of pain shot up my foot. Anna, you idiot, why didn’t learn to think things through! “Ow! Er, I mean…we’re not here to give anything. Well, technically we are but…” I took out the box and I knew I touched a nerve because her eyes widened.

“That belonged to my son. How did you get it?”

“Please,” I said, not answering her question. “Can we come in?”

Our eyes met, her grey-blue against my normal brown ones. I remembered Seymour saying ‘It has to be you, it has to be you’ and I didn’t understand it then, but I was starting to understand it now. Maybe his mom and I needed each other. Maybe we both, in our own ways, needed to learn how to ask for help and reach out to people instead of staying our shells. I matched Mrs. Harris’s eyes gaze to gaze, and perhaps she agreed with my thoughts, or maybe she was just hungry and wanted cheeseballs and this whole ordeal over and done with, because she took a step back and opened the door.

“Come in,” she said, suddenly sounding very tired. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

“Well, that was easier that expected,” Tara muttered as we sat down on the expensive looking couches and watched Mrs. Harris disappeared into an all too familiar kitchen and then reappeared with a tray of drinks. She put them down on the coffee table and sat down on the seat across us. There was an awkward silence as we tried to find a way to approach the subject. Mrs. Harris spoke first.

“Are you his friends from school?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s never brought you home, has he? I would have remembered.”

Well, technically you were at the hospital with his body when he did. I shook my head. “No, he’s never,” I said. “We were more of…aquaintances. He…er…he had a list of things he wanted to do and he didn’t get a chance to finish it, so I’m doing it for him.”

“And the box is one of the items on the list?”

“To give you and Mr. Harris the box is,” I corrected. I placed the box on the table and pushed it towards her. She just stared at it without picking it up. “You’d understand his thoughts better when you open it,” I added.

“I…I don’t think I want to.”

“It’s important to him, Mrs. Harris. He really wanted me to pass it to you.”