Waiting to be Perfect

I'm Sorry

          Bright light blinded Enoch when he regained consciousness. Sunlight was pouring from big windows on either side of him. His back, shoulders and head felt like it was going to depart with his body. And his legs were entangled in a very scratchy blanket. 

        He found himself lying in a bed that was not his. He opened one eye slowly, observing his new environment. Other beds were scattered in the big room he was in, though they were empty. There was also a bunch of odd, and even scary looking machines, some of which he was connected to. A repeated rhythm could be heard throughout the room, and Enoch realized that was his heartbeat. He quickly looked for the off switch of the heart monitor and detached himself from its wires. He was in the school's infirmary. 

          The room was completely empty. Enoch arose from the bed, and walked towards a mirror that was placed in the corner of the room. He looked like a tornado hit him. Part of his head was covered in bandages, with his blonde hair covered up too. The side of his face was decorated with a purple bruise. And, of course, he looked tired and worn out. 

          Something caught his eye through the mirror's reflection, something that was shimmering behind him. 

          A scale.

          Enoch ran as fast as his sore body would allow towards the device. He contemplated whether or not he should step on it. In the end, he thought it would be better to know how far he has on his journey and hesitantly placed his feet on the scale. 

          148 pounds. 

          Enoch knew he has a lot of work to do. He really wanted to cry and break the scale though, but it is not the scale's fault.... he was the one who let himself get pudgy, and he will be the one to reverse his flaws (btw, that would be a bmi of 26.2 which is considered overweight.). 

        Enoch heard people talking from outside the infirmary and ran back into the bed, covering up his body underneath the itchy blanket. The door burst open and in came Olive and Victor, followed by Jacob. Enoch quickly closed his eyes before any of his friends could see he was awake. Unfortunately for him, Olive saw his eyes flutter shut. 

        "I think Enoch is awake," she whispered to Victor. Victor nodded silently, walked up to the end of Enoch's bed and tickled him along his foot. Enoch sprung out of his bed with such speeds, shouting, 

          "I surrender!" 

          "Ha! I knew you could not stand that!" Victor teased. Olive and Jake approached Enoch beside Victor, looking down at the boy with sympathy.  

          "How are you feeling, Enoch?" Olive cooed. Enoch rubbed his head, shutting his eyes with all his might and letting himself fall back onto the mattress. 

          "Everything hurts," he finally admitted. 

          " They said you had low blood sugar.... that you probably were not eating. And then running the mile was too much for your body to handle and you collapsed. You fell pretty hard, too." Jacob said, avoiding Enoch's eyes. "Emma is blaming herself for what happened. She remembered what she said to you. She made this," Jake pulled from behind him a homemade get-well card. Enoch took it from Jake, placing it on the nightstand beside his bed. 

         "Thanks. I'll read it later."  No one said a word. The silence seemed to be all they needed to hear. To be in his friends' company, that was all Enoch could wanted at the moment. Then it dawned on him. "How long have I been out for?" 

          "Not too long, "Victor said. "It's Saturday." This seemed to calm Enoch down a bit. Victor and Jacob left the infirmary when the nurses came by to check his vitals and drop off the lunch that he was ordered to eat. "If you want to leave this infirmary, that is." The nurse threatened. Olive refused to leave Enoch's side though, and promised the nurse she'd make sure he ate the food. 

          "Please, Enoch!" Olive begged, collecting mashed potatoes on the spoon. "I'll spoon feed you if I have to!" 

           "Fine!" Enoch growled. "I can do it myself." He snatched the spoon from Olive. "Just a couple bites...." He looked at the greasy blob of food on the spoon, hesitating too long for Olive's liking. 

        "PLEASE!" Olive cried, tears starting to brim her green eyes. 

          Enoch could not stand it when people cry. Out of all the humans that populated the earth, he especially could not stand it when Olive cried. It's like beating up a puppy; tortuous to watch. He closed his eyes shut and took the first bite. His stomach seemed unsure of what was happening, but as he took more bites, his stomach seemed only to want more. And as every spoonful past his lips, all his progress went out the window. It was not long till both children in the infirmary were crying together, both for different reasons. 

          The tray was finally diminished of food and Olive took it away from Enoch's lap to put on the bedside table.  Enoch had no more tears left to shed, the trails on the tears still lingering on his face. He looked unusually worn out, from the crying and the lack of sleep apparent in his eyes. 

          "We only ask this of you because we all love you," Olive whispered. She was blushing when she said the L word. "We don't want you to die. What would happen to Victor if you leave? Or to Horace or even little Claire?" Olive looked down at her lap, trying to hide her tears that still seemed to be leaking. "What would happen to me?" Olive left her words to linger for Enoch before silently leaving the infirmary, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

          Enoch did not mean for all of this to end in such a way. He did not want his friends to worry about him... he just wanted to be loved, to be perfect. He probably lost the trust of his friends when he tells them he is okay. And he made one of the only people he truly loved to cry.... Olive shouldn't shed tears for him. I'm not perfect for your tears, he thought to himself. If only there was a button that would allow Enoch to reverse all of his mistakes... oh how he wished for that right now. 

          Enoch opened the card Emma made for him. It was badly drawn, he'd admit, but there was no doubt effort put into the card. "I'm Sorry" was written on the front in big, cursive letters, with a sad looking stick figure underneath. He could not tell if the stick figure was carrying balls or flowers. The inside of the letter was littered from the top to the bottom of both pages with sentimental words.

          All Enoch could think after he finished reading the letter was it was not meant to end this way. He was meant to be perfect, with not just Emma, but everyone begging him for forgiveness. He was supposed to shed his pudginess, so no one can ever use those words to hurt him. Ever. Again. And deep down, he knew everyone was being artificial with him. The poor boy who passed out in gym class..... let's give him lots of love and kisses so we can build up his esteem to break down later.   

          Enoch was at a lost of what to do. He wants to be perfect, and the only way he knows how to will hurt those around him...