Briel -- The Repercussion
White flakes silently floated wistfully down from the bright night sky until it was melted into oblivion by a heated red light. Warning red circled with piercing white flashing the surrounding houses. The quiet neighborhood was happy and cheerful as Santas perched on snowcapped roofs, evergreen garlands draped over houses topped with bright red bows. Trees dressed in colorful rainbows of lights didn't shirk their happy greeting when the siren faded.
My eyes were closed peacefully, but a painful grimace was permanently etched onto my face. The gurney bumped and squeaked as I was wheeled out of the ambulance into the small neighborhood hospital. My forehead creased as the team of medics moved around me, all wearing expressions ranging from concern to indifference. Guilt set in; it was so close to Christmas and the memory of my family who looked like mannequins that afternoon still burned in my mind.
They had been sitting around me—mother, father, brother—all trying to seem cheerful for the holidays, all keeping a watchful eye on me. My grandmother's afghan kept me warm, a beautiful scarf my mother had purchased was wrapped around my head, hiding what remained of once beautiful brown hair that had cascaded in curls down my back.
First, I remember the pain shooting through my body, contorting my face and putting expressions of alarm on the mannequins. They had tried so hard to make the holidays seem as though nothing had changed for the last year, as I'd requested. They tried so very hard to be happy despite the corpse-like body that sat in the living room now trembling through gritted teeth.
"Briel!" a chorus cried, but I was gone already. My mind had protected me from the pain that raked through my body, the pain of seeing my family standing over me like a macabre tableaux of desperation and love. Desperation to save me.
I was wheeled through the hospital corridors, bright and quiet other than the anxious people that cared for me so. Lazily, I opened my eyes and saw them standing around me, following the gurney down the hall.
It was like the first time, months ago, their anxious nervous faces looking down on me as I was wheeled through a hospital. They had thought I was asleep, but I lay in the dark room of the hospital hearing words thrown around like blood disorder, bone marrow, degeneration. I turned over in the bed, careful to not disturb the clear tubes that pulled at my skin under the thin hospital gown, already acknowledging the inevitable.
I knew the real cause of my illness, though no one would believe it. It was a broken heart. I even remembered looking it up once on the internet and my pathetic feelings were validated. It wasn't as uncommon as I had thought, as I discovered many people had died of a broken heart. It was as if the body could no longer fight against the soul's mystical way of running the body. It was shortly after he had left me that I fell ill. I dare not tell him, I did not want to feel that he would come back only because I was sick.
I had buried my face in the pillow, feeling responsible for my family's sadness. My eyes clenched upon hearing my mother cry in the hallway as the doctor gave her the grave prognosis. My brother, Ehan, had not looked me in the eye since that day. It was as if he knew the real reason and it made him all the more furious.
Slightly, I tilted me head to the side and saw Ehan racing with the bed down the corridor. He was looking at me now and through hazy eyes I saw the love that we had always shared together. I missed those eyes and hated being so detached from my twin, but loved seeing his eyes look upon me for that second until he realized that I had noticed him. The scowl that had creased his face since that first day returned, a mask hiding his true feelings. I tried to reach my hand up to touch his that held the metal bed rail to apologize in a simple touch, but just lifting fingers was too much exertion.
A wet, hot tear burned, fighting to escape my closed eyes; I had never wanted my pain to infect my family, especially during the holidays.
Ehan had always been very protective of me, his little sister—little as of one hour. I had came into the world with a struggle and he thought I had decided to leave it without a fight. Ehan felt that his sister that he had shared so much with had betrayed him. Betrayed him for Caden.
He tried to reason with me; he would say, "Briel, do you really think Caden would want you to give up so easily?" I only turned away from him; I knew he was trying to help me. He later gave in to his frustration and anger. "Briel, he doesn't care for you. He left you. Please, just let him go. Let him go, so you can fight."
I wince at his words. It was true, Caden had left and wouldn't care if I were dead or if I'd found someone else. I hadn't spoken to him since the day he had told me that he wanted to end it. He called it being pragmatic. I have despised that word ever since. Since when do feeling and love have anything to do with pragmatism.. I couldn't blame my brother for his anger. I loved him and I was causing him so much pain.
All my life I had hated the feel of doctor offices and needles, but now I felt nothing. I'd had enough things stuck in me that I felt like a pin cushion. All I wanted were my memories. That was like cupping water to a thirsty mouth, as if my memories of being happy with Caden were enough to heal me.
He had been my morning star and I had been the east waiting for him to rise with his brilliance, bring me joy and happiness, the peace of a new day. Caden had been my personification of love. He had danced through my gardens and plucked my petals. I gave him everything and believed in no obstacles. Nothing could destroy our love, no trouble; no storm cloud would trespass on our blue sky.
Storms had indeed brewed and he had been trapped in a whirlwind of a black cloud. Indecision and suffering were his tumult. I held his hand, always available and open to him, but he closed himself off as he went to the funeral by himself.
He had tried hard to be happy for my sake, to put on a mask of what was, what we had hoped to be, but his indecision and our small hurdles had grown, until there were mountains between us.
Caden decided that being the only member of his family left in our small town was not what he needed. He needed to be near those who loved him unconditionally. My love was not enough for him to fight for.
As I drove him to the airport that spring day, the tree blossoms had colored the sky, raining pink and peach flower petals onto my windshield. He had told me then, dashing my hopes, killing my dreams of future for the two of us. I had thought it was to only be a short break while he took some time to get himself together. I had thought it was indeed a sacrifice to let him go, but what wouldn't I sacrifice for Caden, my Caden? He needed to be near those who could help him.
He said that it was not pragmatic to put off what wouldn't work- he believed we would never work in the end because of the problems that challenged us. Again that word. I hiccupped tears, buried my face into his shoulder. I had tried so hard to keep it light, to help him feel that I would manage while he was gone. Now it was more than a short goodbye; he meant it to be final. I couldn't breathe, my entire system had fought against me, as if the tears swelling inside me prevented air from entering my nose and my eyes burned red.
"I love you, Caden. I am not afraid to say it. I will always be here for you, if you need me, If you want to talk," I had told him as he took his luggage from the trunk of my car. I did not walk beyond the curb. I couldn't.
"I am sorry, Briel," he said. Tears were in his eyes and he had forced them back. "Take care." He had taken his luggage and never turned back.
The nurse took my pulse and then patted my head; she felt sorry for me. Many of them did, seeing a young woman with so much promise have to go through so much suffering as the disease ransacked my body. The physical pain was nothing to me in comparison to the hurt in my soul that battered me everyday.
I reflected n my last words to him. "I will always be here for you." How much time did I have left to keep that promise?
