Written for my grandmother who passed away when I was six. Read and Review
Chapter song: Jason Mraz~ The Remedy
I grip the bed rails as they wheel me down for my treatment hoping it'll bring comfort, but it fails me. It's just not the same as having my best friend to hold on to. It's alright, Clary. He didn't mean to not show up. Surely he just got held up by traffic or something. My brain reassures me. My brain covered by my porcelain freckled skin. My freckled skin covered by my long locks of ruby red hair. But not for long. The ugly, cruel side of my mind reminds me. I sigh as we reach the doors where Jace would yield at. The doors that are like an invisible line that screams: DANGER DO NOT CROSS. I look back down the hallway towards the nurses' station as if Jace could magically appear out of thin air and wrap me in his arms telling me I'd be alright. My hands slip against the bars with a cold nervous sweat as the nurse silently wheels me into my treatment room, where my life could change for better or for worse.
I slap my steering wheel and curse at the sky, at the idiot who had nearly slammed into him, but slammed into the person in front of him instead. I can't afford this! I mentally scream, my face burning of frustration. My only thought was of Clary, my best friend, who today needs me more than any other time maybe for the rest of her life. I had to be there for her. So as the police block off the highway and clean up the wreck, I say prayers that Clary will either be held up as well, or that she'll be alright and the procedure will go smoothly.
I watch as the paramedics rush to wheel a rescued member from the victim's car on a bed that is similar to the one Clary is in right this instant. This brings a new wave of dread over me, as I know I've probably missed her. I glance at my clock. I have thirty five minutes to be at the hospital, which is right as you get off this next exit. I'm so close, yet so far.
Suddenly, a new idea strikes me, and I'm just crazy stupid enough to do it. I put on my emergency parking break and slam the door closed. Police men in shiny badges watch me, trying to see what I'm doing. Who in their right mind would get out of their car with debris everywhere while traffic is stopped? Jonathan Christopher Herondale that's fucking who.
I sprint to my right, past four other lanes and down the exit way towards the hospital. Police shout after me, but I ignore them. Cars on the freeway honk wildly as I make a mad dash through a gap in the passing vehicles. I'm darting across the street and through the entrance of the hospital, past the ambulances that whir their sirens. I burst into the right of the two identical buildings and rush up to the nurses' station. I impatiently wait for ten whole minutes before my turn. I'm still a bit winded. "Where's the chemotherapy floor?" I burst out.
The nurse's face falls. "It's in the other building, on the twentieth floor." She says with pity written all over her face. She knows I'm in a rush and somehow she knows before I do, that I'll never make it in time.
By the time I reach the twentieth floor of the left building, it's already five minutes past the hour. I try anyway. "Ma'am," I ask the nurse hurriedly. "Clarissa Adele Fray, which room is she in? I need to get to her before they take her back." I rush.
This nurse's face falls too, but she's got a sympathetic look. "She was taken back for treatment ten minutes ago. She's due to be back in her room and ready for visitors in about a half an hour." She says softly.
I rest my forehead on my folded hands that rest on the counter. I've missed her. I've failed her.
I feel a soft hand on my shoulder; it's cold and offers little comfort. I raise my head to see the nurse bring her hand away from me. "Would you like some coffee, or Ice water?" she asks me.
"I want to be with her." I reply flatly.
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, feel free to wait in one of those chairs and I'll let you know when she's out." She says.
And that's how, fifty nine minutes later, I find myself anxiously waiting in those stupid plastic chairs for one more minute until I can offer my friend, the one I'm hopelessly in love with, the comfort she should have had seventy four minutes earlier.
"Jace Herondale? Clary's ready to see you." The nurse says with a small sad smile.
I wipe my sweaty palms on the backs of my dark wash jeans as I stand and follow the nurse back to the room.
When the door opens, I nearly cry out. There in a white hospital, in a white hospital room sits my pale beautiful girl. She's swallowed up by white sheets and a white and blue hospital gown, looking like a toddler in a big empty bed. But instead of the last ten visits where her hair offered some burst of color, there's none. Her hair has been taken from her as well as her health. "Oh, Clary-" I say but cut myself off.
She bites her lip. "What do you think? I think red wasn't really my thing." She says.
This makes my heart melt for her. That though she's faced with a trial that no human should have to face, especially her, she's able to be the same Clary that I fell for.
"I love you, that's what I think." I blurt.
She swallows thickly, and reaches out her arms, one still occupied by an I.V. I can only meet her by her side and embrace her as I should have done earlier. "You mean it?" she asks.
I smile. "Yes, I mean it. You're still the same, beautiful Clary that I knew- know." I say.
She smiles at that, tears rolling down her cheeks that still occupy the endless freckles splattered across her nose. "I love you too, Jace." She whispers.
We sit and talk about how her last chemotherapy had gone, and we rejoice when she announces that they've removed the rest of the cancer in her. Her eyes brighten up as she animatedly tell me how big the machines were compared to her, and how the nurses said she was really lucky that they caught the illness very early. And my eyes brightened up when I realized that I was blessed with another day with my beautiful Clary. And she noticed because she slowly brings her grinning lips to mine.
When she pulls away she smiles bigger than I've seen in a while. "I've finished the race." She whispers.