Family Short Story – Voices
Photo credit: clarita from morguefile.com
Over the years she had experienced and heard a lot of voices- hushed whispers, agonized screams, her mother’s loving reassurances – and now voices was all she was living for. It was amazing what sound could communicate much more than mere opinions.
During the past months, she had heard a lot of stuff. Doctors debating on what treatment to try on her next, nurses chattering about their daily schedule, her sister’s singing and her mother’s sobs. Being in coma might be easy for her, but it was unnerving for her family and friends. Somehow, she viewed it only with detached sadness, as if her feelings were not really her own.
She remembered all the happy times she had had before that accident. Some almost made her smile while others were tainted with despair-how had time changed so suddenly?
“Be patient, love, and life shall take it’s own course,” her dad used to say. Somehow, even thinking about him hurt.
Then she would hear her mother’s words,”Don’t stay out late, dear, and always remember your mom loves you!”
But how could she? Would she still love the person who had caused her such distress? Would she Ever forgive the daughter who got half her family killed? It was almost like yesterday, though she was certain much more time had passed, when she had committed the fatal mistake of driving without complete possession of her senses.
Then, her sister would sing. What a beautiful voice, she thought. Did her sister hate her too? It wouldn’t be too hard,hate was too powerful an emotion and easily overrode the lesser feelings.
Her brother begged her to wake up, to open her eyes, to think of everyone and not just herself. But did she want to wake up? No. She didn’t want to face the world, she just wanted to hide in the dark. She wanted to believe that if she closed her eyes and couldn’t see the world, the world wouldn’t be able to see her. It was cowardliness but there wasn’t anyone she could look eye to eye.
Weeks went by. She lost track of time. It could have been years, as if she cared.
Finally, she heard his voice. Her father, he was alive. His voice warmed her heart and her lips curved into a smile. He told her about the garden, about the sun, the children in the park and the birds in the sky. Was the world as beautiful as he described it? She couldn’t remember. It was a beautiful feeling, knowing that somehow your biggest mistake did not have consequences of equal proportions.
Then she felt something on her hand. Was it time to wake up?
“Yes, it’s time.” her father replied. She didn’t realize she was saying it out aloud. But was she ready?
“Don’t worry, love, we’ll always be by your side.”
“Will you really, daddy?”
“Always and forever.”
She opened her eyes and they squinted because of the bright light. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for that familiar face, but he wasn’t there. The room was sterile, and clean to a fault- if that was even possible. There were machines she was hooked to and a steady beeping indicated her heartbeat. Without it, the silence would have been deafening. The only other occupant of the room was a nurse.
“Where’s my father?” she asked the nurse who was checking her drip.
“He died yesterday. He stopped breathing when your mom told him that you weren’t waking up.” The knowledge was defeating. Was there no hope for her at all?
She clutched her hand to her heart. The warmth was still there…
__
