broken dreams-a seaycee story

one

Sean

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Kaycee,

Today marks the 5th Christmas since you've been gone. Well, you know what I mean by gone. You're not here, but you're not there either. 

I imagine you sitting here next to me, laughing, knees tucked under, wearing those stupid fuzzy reindeer socks you love so much, sipping a cup of hot cocoa, whipped cream all over your face like always, telling me to stop being so sappy, and that you're not really gone, you're right here. "I just took a trip," you'll say, "I'm back now. Really couldn't live without me for that long, Lew?" And I would just look at you and thank God that I got you, and promise to him that I'd never ever lose you again. 

You don't know how hard it's been, Kayc. This year was especially hard without you. Janelle and Will's reunion came up, and the whole crew was together to celebrate. Me, Josh, Ken, Julian, Chloe, Bailey, Tahani, everyone. I remembered how I danced with you that night, in that stunning dress, your head on my chest as I held you under the stars. My heart was beating so fast. You looked up at me and smiled and asked me why I was nervous. I couldn't be like every other guy, and say it was my first dance with a girl. 

I didn't know it was going to be my last with you. I wish I'd held you closer. I wish I'd kissed you in that very moment when you'd looked at me, the moon dancing in your eyes, tilted your head, and smiled at me. I wish I'd looked at you then and told you everything I'd been feeling. It had been eating me up inside, Kayc. Whenever I looked at you I thought I was actually flying. Everyone was pushing us together, but I wanted you to find me in your own time. Me? I'd found you, but I was letting you find yourself first. I already knew who you were. And I knew who I was too. And I knew I was so much better with you. 

I love you so much. 
Please wake up soon. We're running out of time, baby girl. You can do this, Kaycee. I believe in you. I always have. I do now. And I always will.

-Sean

Blinking back tears in my eyes, I flipped the card over and slid it in the envelope, licked the seal closed, and tossed it into the box in the corner of my room. Dusted picture frames cluttered the bottom of it, and it made a light tap as it landed on top of the spilling-over pile of other envelopes, of all the words that came too late.

There was still time.

I got in my car and drove absentmindedly, not relying on GPS as I did to get to anywhere else. I knew the drive to 947 Cooper's Landing Road by heart. At that address was Kaycee, frozen to a hospital bed, where she'd been for a little over five years. And at that address, everyday, I talked to her, sometimes begging her to wake up, sometimes telling her it was okay to go, sometimes driving myself so crazy that I'd hallucinate a twitch in her eye, a wiggle of her fingers. But at the end of the day, it was always the same.

She never woke up.

I'd tried every kind of God I knew to pray to, I did charity work, I got acupuncture specialists, religious figures, and doctors flown in from Europe in the rooms on the regular, each testing out their assured methods, and each time, leaving with a heavy heart. Nothing seemed to work. Sometimes I danced, sometimes I took her hand and sang, sometimes I talked, sometimes I cried, and sometimes I sat there in silence. It wasn't that there was nothing to say. It's just that I wasn't strong enough to say it. 

Today, as the sliding glass doors opened automatically, I flicked my visitor's badge at the front desk and they smiled sadly. Holly told me that Marie, the main head of the visitation monitors, called me The Lost Boy in her native language to her children when they picked her up everyday. I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where I needed to be. And I hadn't lost hope yet either. It was with Kaycee. I was with Kaycee.