The Remedy

By NationChild

Created on March 30th, 2007

A/N: This is a story I had to write for my English class. It could be a creative writing piece, but this story is a little different than my others because I’ve had to include certain things, like names and description of the characters, etc. Hope you enjoy it. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

“No, Catherine. I don’t feel that way about you. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

Catherine took a step forward, the wind cautiously lifting strands of her chestnut-coloured hair. Shakily, she began speaking. “Don’t say that. You do feel that way about me. You’re just confused.” Her voice cracked lightly on the last syllable, and then drooped, like a flower without rain for days.

The boy paused for a moment, then turned to face her. His baby blue eyes were tainted with apology. “Catherine, it just isn’t going to work. I’m sorry.”

With that said, he walked away from her, trudging as though his feet weighed a few blocks of gold.

“Alex, please!” Catherine’s voice echoed inside her head, seeming to bounce. But it sounded so hollow, so empty. Alex kept walking.

Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. The rain wouldn’t stop. It pounded relentlessly on the roof and relentlessly in Candace Norman’s ears. She shook her head to drown out the sound. My, the weather is quite dreary today, she thought. I wonder if the weather’s become like this just for us. She was sick to her stomach, worrying about her son.

“Mom, mom!” Candace turned to see her only daughter racing down the hall. “Amy!” Grabbing Amy into a hug, Candace squeezed as hard as she could, knowing her daughter could handle it. Then she began to cry. Amy’s own eyes moistened at the sight of her mother. She swallowed with difficulty, then spoke, “C’mon, Mom. Let’s go see the others.” Candace could only nod as she felt her throat tightening.

“Oh, there you are.” Julien Norman’s blue-grey eyes shone wearily. Amy didn’t remember ever seeing her father so depressed, which simply boosted her determination to cheer her family up. “Come on, guys. Alex will be fine. He’ll be up and awake in a few days.” Two pairs of eyes blinked gloomily back at her. Well, so much for that plan.

Meanwhile, across the room, a tall boy of fifteen years sat, facing the window, staring blankly into the water-infested atmosphere. Steven Norman was his name. A medium-sized cut was visible, slashed across his forehead. Every so often, a bead of blood appeared on the cut, expanding like a virus in a computer. Steven didn’t care. He wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed, having been dormant for nearly ten hours. It was his fault. His entire fault.

“Stevey?” No reply. “Stevey!” Still nothing. Barbara Norman was nearly hysterical. First her grandson, her beloved grandson, had lapsed into a coma after a severe head trauma. Then her daughter-in law, son and granddaughter seemed as though they too, were dead, with eyes devoid of emotion.

Yup, there they were. Julien’s pain was easily transferable. It was written and scribbled all over his face. Candace communicated nothing, as she was still in heart-stopping shock. Amy was biting her lip, as she often did when she was upset, and Barbara reckoned that soon Amy wouldn’t have any lip left to chew.

And now her other precious grandson was losing it! He wouldn’t answer her! Because of his motionlessness, Barbara would’ve thought his soul was being fed on. Well, I guess in a way, it is, she thought.

I’m the stupidest person who ever lived. Steven hated himself. He wanted to venture out into the cold, rainy night and shout to the heavens, “Why? Why him and not me? It was my fault! I should suffer the consequences!” But Steven didn’t do that. Instead, he just sat, thinking about how he would go about creating a time machine to go back into time.

Nearly every teenager tries it sometime in their life. Granted, Steven had not one drop of alcohol in his body. He was just fooling around. Now his brother was suffering.

But, wait. Was he really suffering? Maybe it was soft of…relaxing. Just to be floating. Not having to worry about any school-related thing, or hurting his girlfriend’s feelings when he broke up with her. Maybe Alex was the lucky one. I wonder, Steven mused, would he prefer an empty abyss to a life full of friends and success? Probably not. Steven frowned. He usually wasn’t this philosophical. That was more up Alex’s ally.

Alex was often seen with his head in the clouds. That probably explained why he was always so clumsy. And while Alex was well-liked and even-tempered, he also had an arrogant and stubborn side to himself. No one ever portrayed him as a pushover. But he was the provider of sunshine in many people’s lives. Everything fell apart without him.

By now, tears were slowly gliding down Steven’s tanned, acne-free face. His breathing came out in short, raspy puffs. He stared at nothing. And he was so sure that he couldn’t loathe himself more.

Catherine stumbled into the waiting room. She was soaking wet. Her hair clung to her clothes, and her clothes clung to her body. She felt indifference to that, though.

Rushing toward the Norman family, she frantically asked, “How is he?” It was Julien who calmed her down.

“Now, Ms. Bellant, Alex is comatose and has been for the past ten hours. Visiting time starts in about ten minutes. You can join us if you’d like.” Suddenly feeling as though she was without any oxygen, Catherine nodded.

The ten minutes stalled for as long as they could. One minute would run away, then the next minute would seemingly freeze, which made the wait quite agonizing for the family and ex-girlfriend.

“Visiting hours are open.” The pretty nurse smiled melancholically. One part of her job that she hated was seeing all the downcast faces. Oh, well, she thought. It’s nature’s way. She watched as the Norman’s and Catherine, along with a few other families, started taking baby steps down the long, outstretched hallway of nondescript hospital rooms.

Reaching Alex’s door, Candace paused, then turned the knob. The other five visitors slumped themselves in the chairs on either side of the door. When Steven’s turn came, he held his breath. Then he walked in.

Unlike the waiting room, which was freckled with vases of bright, cheery flowers, the hospital room looked almost bare. The walls were completely naked save for the almost microscopic picture of a black lab puppy on the wall opposite the bed. Steven wrinkled his nose. He could detect a strong stench of old hospital tray food mixed with disinfectant. Simply put, if Steven had to pick a room to live in for the rest of his life, Alex’s hospital room was definitely not his preferred choice.

Alex Norman lay in the bed, his head slightly elevated but sinking into the giant of the pillow. His chest rose and fell almost unnoticeably, and the continuous beeping of the cold, metal monitoring-machine transformed into a fire siren, screaming and shrieking terribly. That’s what it sounded like to Steven. Steven sat, the fabric of the chair uncomfortable, not unlike burlap. Steven watched and waited, with his blue-grey eyes dull and depressed.

“Catherine, it’s your turn.” Amy nudged Catherine gently, awakening her from her slumber. Eyes widening, Catherine nearly sprinted into the room. And she halted.

Alex looked so peaceful. Catherine hated that. Fifteen-year-olds weren’t meant to stop living. There was still so much to see, still so much to do! Alex deserved none of this! A tear trembled on Catherine’s lower eyelash. Her eyes refused to release the tears.

“Mmm…sorry…” Catherine blinked. If it wasn’t her that just spoke…was Alex talking?

“I’m sorry…Catherine…I never meant to hurt you…I’m sorry.” Alex said nothing more. But Catherine didn’t need to hear anymore. Because it was at that very instant, Catherine’s heart tore, as easily as one rips a sheet of paper. She broke down, sobbing out what was left of her heart.

And so the weeks dragged on. Seconds to minutes, minutes to hours. After two fortnights had passed, Alex still had yet to awaken. Those days were pure torture for his family. To have a close relative to stop living, just to stop everything. At least teen times a day, they thought of him. And every day, every time they thought of Alex, their hearts pounded so loud they were sure they’d be sent to jail for disturbing the peace.

Steven still made a visit nearly every day, and the rest of the family visited whenever they could. But Alex was his little brother, and Steven would make sure to fill him in on what he was missing. Steven would share the latest gossip about their peers, talk about how much homework they were being loaded down with, and the weather outside. It was Steven’s way of reassuring himself that Alex would wake up soon.

On the thirtieth day, Steven pulled the chair up next to Alex’s bedside and sat. He was silent, thinking about what Doctor Thompson had told him just fifteen minutes ago.

“As you know, in the automobile accident, Alex suffered severe head trauma, which then affected the brain. Now an area of the brain has shifted within the skull, which we call a brain herniation. Unfortunately, we didn’t detect this problem early enough. So, I’m very sorry to say, there is a possibility that Alex could very well…die.”

No, it wasn’t true! Steven wouldn’t believe it! Beep…beep…beep…beep…beep-beep-beep-beep-beep! Steven jolted up from the uncomfortable chair. What was going on? The door slammed open quite harshly with a thud. Two nurses rushed in, one inspecting the monitor and one feeling for Alex’s pulse.

“We’re sorry, young man. There’s nothing we can do.” After giving him what Steven suspected were practiced mournful glances, the nurses exited the scene. Steven sank into the chair, into his disbelief, shock, and sorrow. His baby brother was dead.

I’ve always hated saying good-bye. I mean, saying it to your best friend one day at school and knowing you’ll see each other again the next day isn’t so bad, I guess. But saying good-bye when you know you’ll never see each other again in, well, forever? That’s what I detest. Especially when you don’t feel that you’re ready to say good-bye. But, I guess everyone has their own time to do that. Granted, it might not be their preferred time, but nonetheless, they still have their time.

…Did you understand that? I hope it didn’t sound too philosophical. I’ve been trying to cut back on my imagination. My brother Steven says it’s not good to have your head in the clouds all the time. It takes away from your reputation as a guy. Because, after all, daydreaming is considered feminine for some reason, he said. But that’s easy for him to say. He’s got it all. The whole surfer-look thing, I mean. With dirty-blond hair and blue-grey eyes that sparkle nearly all the time, it’s no wonder he’s with a new girl each month. But don’t get me wrong. He can be quite hot-headed when he disagrees with something. I should know. We had an argument at least three times a day.

Anyway, this is just a guess, but Steven is kicking himself hard for what happened to me. He shouldn’t worry; I’ve forgiven him. Half the reason is that, if no one ever forgave anyone, our civilisation wouldn’t go anywhere. The other half is because of what will happen the next time this sort of incident is repeated (and it will be repeated; I’m one hundred percent sure of it). Steven will think twice – maybe even three times – before ever, on a dark night with poor visibility, speeding – regardless of whether he has alcohol in his blood or not. Unlike most people, Steven actually tries to learn from his mistakes. That’s just the way he is.

I’m going to miss everyone endlessly. Sure, “big sister Amy” can be the bossiest and most stubborn person on the planet, but if you give her a chance, she’s sweet as marmalade, and deep as still waters. Catherine never ceased to amaze me with her personality: loud and outgoing yet paranoid and hot-headed, just ol’ Steven. Ah, now there’s a possibility! Yes, I can imagine Steven and Catherine, dancing at the winter social next year. Together. I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but somehow, I’m positive those two will find the perfect match in each other. Too bad I won’t be around to give them my blessing.

If I could talk to him this instant, I’d tell Dad how much he’s given me. His love for reading, his clumsiness, his stubbornness, everything. Now for you, Mom. I don’t want to make this sound all mushy-gushy, but Mom, you were the best. You seriously were. I know that you were the quietest out of all of us. You never gave us any punishment when we were younger. You’d simply raise your hand and we’d quiet down. You had a way with making everyone disciplined and respectful, without showing us the path to hatred. That takes talent. You’ve raised us well.

Grandma, I’ll always remember your scrumptious apple pies. You were the one who gave me my first taste of coffee at ten years old, something everyone should try at that age. And, in addition to babying my siblings and me, you were the one who taught me the Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That verse taught me everything I need to know. You prepared me for the future. Just like the perfect grandmother you are. Thanks.

Well, guys. It’s my turn to say good-bye. And this time, we won’t meet for a (hopefully) long time. Remember how much I love you guys. And I know you’ll do fine without me. It’s intuition. Well, ciao. It’s been fun.

Fin.