Inspired by a story learned when I was younger.
It has always stayed in my heart,
I hope its meaning will be relayed to you.
September 11, 2001. A day that has been embedded into the hearts of all Americans. I will not delve too deep into that day specifically, for it holds so many memories. It has many meanings as it has many results to others. All I want you to know is that the day was grim.
Arthur Kirkland was one of the many people admitted into the hospitals because of injury.
More specifically, one to his back.
Truth be told, the doctors knew he could recover. Could being the key word.
But it's commonplace knowledge that you can't save someone that has given up on living.
Patient Arthur Kirkland was transferred to a medical center in New Jersey, his needs did not require critical care.
But if it pertains to the heart, shouldn't it be critical anyway?
How ironic.
The medical center was a makeshift place. The separate rooms were taken up by patients that were deemed in need of dire care. Actually, this didn't bother Arthur that much (not that anything at this point did). The hospital that he had stayed at in New York City was….
Hell.
Arthur shuddered at the memories. Nurses in a frantic flurry across the floor, doctors yelling hastened commands, the heavy smell of disinfectant in the air. And the patients…
All in worse condition than him. Arthur wished at some point that he would go deaf. The he cries of the dying still rang in his head. And the sights of the dying as they lock eyes with you before their last…
I apologize for my digression.
Arthur's stretcher was placed into a wide, standard floor room of the hospital. The stretchers were separated by curtains to give each patient privacy.
But none of this mattered to Arthur, since he had no intention of living.
He continued to lay his head into the thin pillow, replaying his memories of that day:
"Arthur, you big meanie," Peter yelled, "Were only here in New York because you won't admit it!"
Arthur's tolerance for his younger brother was wearing thin. "I will have none of this, young man," he said in his authorative voice. "We are not going to return to London because of your whims."
"But it's all your fault that mum and dad left us!" With this being said, young Peter turned away from Arthur, and ran off into the hallways of the World Trade Center. Tears were falling endlessly from Peter's eyes as he ran past the people that were confused by this display.
"Peter, get your arse back-"
And that's when everything went wrong,
The floor shook, glass could be heard shattering, and screams.
So much screaming…
Peter finally turned around to search for Arthur, who was a distance down the hall. Fear was cast into his eyes as the lights above flickered.
Arthur immediately began to sprint down the hallway.
"Peter!"
And then a piece of the ceiling fell onto his back.
And the last thing he saw was Peter's crying countenance as he was carried away by someone trying to help the frightened boy.
Arthur decided that forfeiting his life should be his retribution.
Deepin his heart Arthur believed that Peter was dead, all because of him.
The clacking of a nurse's heels brought him out of his reverie.
"Arthur?"
"Sod off…" he mumbled half heartedly.
The nurse tried to keep a chipper tone. "I'm just here to inform you that another patient will be given the space next to you."
What do I care, Arthur thought to himself. He turned his head of messy, choppy blond hair away from the nurse.
Arthur's stretcher was second to last from the wall.
Arthur half heartedly listened to the wheels of the approaching stretcher, until they finally stopped to his right.
Arthur had a reason to not look at the new patient beside him, because his back was still in his grimly well-deserved pain.
When the nurse's presence was gone, the new patient sat up, and extended his hand to Arthur.
"Alfred F. Jones, nice to meet'ya!"
"Bugger off…."Arthur moaned. Damn loud American.
"Not much of a social person, are ya," Alfred said, undaunted. "British, must be why. Maybe it's all that tea you guys chug down over there. Must be messing with your head-"
Arthur finally put some steel into his response, "In the name of the Queen, please do the world a favor and shut the bloody hell up."
Alfred's sky blue eyes widened a bit, then he broke out into a fit of laughter.
"Finally got some life into you, huh man?" Alfred ran a hand though his sunny, blond locks, which also had a stray clump of hair oddly sticking up still. "Already can tell we're gonna be great friends!"
"I have no need for friends just as I have no need for life…", Arthur whispered to himself.
"What was that," Alfred asked.
"Talkative git. At least give me the privilege of some semblance of sleep…" Arthur pulled the curtains closed as best he could from his position. He tried to force himself into an agitated form of sleep, since he was blocking out the all-too-cheery banter of the American as he voiced his hopes about extra helpings of bound to be suckish hospital food.
"Hope they have hamburgers! Heroes like me need their food...", this was the last of the American he heard till he finally fell asleep.
Unfortunately, Arthur woke up to that same voice.
"Rise and shine, old man. Heard the nurses talk 'bout your back issue and stuff. No wonder you've been ignoring me!"
"Ugh…why won't the nurses shut your trap."
Alfred pulled the curtains away. "Guess what old man, it's a beautiful mornin' out there. Sun's shining, clear blue skies-"
"Belt up, git, And stop with this old man nonsense," Arthur retorted icily. "I have a name, Arthur Kirkland. And please….I don't care what it looks like outside…"
Alfred bounced up immediately when he said this. "Damn man, why's that?" he nearly yelled. "The world's a freaken amazing thing to look at and-"
"NOT LIKE I WANT TO BE ALIVE TO SEE IT ANYWAY," Arthur yelled back.
This amazingly silenced Alfred. Nothing else could be heard except for the monotonous droning of machines, the beep of pulse detectors, and the clacking of nurses heels against the floor.
Alfred broke the silence.
"Why the fuck would you not wanna live?" He jumped out of bed and went for Arthur's, tripping on nothing, and catching himself from falling by holding onto the bed's railing.
Alfred's face finally came into view for Arthur. If he had the heart to admit it, Arthur would've been stricken by Alfred's sun kissed handsomeness and his eyes.
They were as deep as the sky of the world he had forsaken.
Arthur said to Alfred in a sad tone, "Because its due to my failures as an older brother that my brother Peter is probably dead. If he isn't living, what bloody rite do I have anymore?" He tried very hard to hold back the tears that threatened to fall from his forest green eyes.
"WTF man. That's no way to live," Alfred said back.
"You have no bloody rite to tell me how to live my god forsaken life!" Why couldn't this idiot read the situation?
Alfred searched under the sheets till he found Arthur's hand. He grabbed it, holding his oddly slender hand into his bigger and stronger one.
"Shut up, man. Life comes down on all of us sometimes. Sucks, yeah. But we need to kick it in the ass sometimes and get back out there!"
Arthur was about to argue with the American, but Alfred continued.
"Even in the darkest moments of life, never give up. There's a whole world outside the window, waiting. You just need to find the strength to look out again."
"Sometimes your window becomes fogged up, but that happens a lot too. But eventually it'll clear up. Just don't lose hope in that world, because its the most epic thing to see. Life beats you and locks inside this room in your heart, and you close yourself to the world. Don't do that. The more you loose hope, the foggier the window to life gets. But the sun will shine again, and you'd better jump out that window and be apart of that world. Its the only one you've got, and its the best darn thing ever!"
Arthur laid there, letting the words sink into his head. Finally he replied.
"That's oddly deep of you, considering the fact you are an insufferable git."
Alfred gave him a smile that could outshine the sun, and Arthur face flushed pink a bit. "I'm a hero, I can be deep when I wanna!"
Arthur learned to appreciate Alfred's endless talking.
Every day Alfred would tell him in vivid detail of what was going on outside. Alfred's stretcher was next to a small window that Arthur was unable to notice (because of his back). But that was okay, since it was their window to the world.
Alfred told him of children playing innocently outside, birds soaring across the endless blue sky, a traffic jam on the street, a couple fighting with each other only to end up making up a few hours later, a man getting caught in the rain who was greeted by the kindness of an old lady that welcomed him into her home to shelter from the rain.
Alongside with Alfred's banter and rehab, Arthur was getting better.
Somewhere along the line Arthur had handed Alfred a picture of Peter. Alfred looked at it and said back, "Looks just like you, old man."
Whenever Arthur was finished with rehab, the nurses insisted that he not get up and rest whenever he was returned to his bed. But that was okay, since he had Alfred to tell him what was outside in the world.
Eventually Arthur was in a well enough state to be released. Soon.
When he told Alfred this news, he replied with a nod:
"Guess its about time I got out too."
One day after rehab session, Athur was waiting in his stretcher to be returned to his room. He then noticed a nurse walking towards him with a peculiar smile on her face.
"Arthur Kirkland, I have a surprise for you. I saw that picture you had of your brother. Left it out on your bed you did. Well, I had a case at another center, and guess who I found?"
Behind her was a young boy clutching nervously to the nurse's uniform.
It was Peter.
He was practically unscathed, save for the bandages that were covering his right eye and the bandages that wrapped allover his left leg. But it was truly him, with his blond hair and blue eyes, and his bushy eyebrows that matched Arthur's. His face broke out into a bright smile as he saw who was in front of him.
"Arthur!"
Peter was given the joy of riding with Arthur on his stretcher back to his room
Arthur returned to his space, only to find that Alfred, and all his belongings, gone.
The nurse said he was released a bit earlier.
"Excuse me nurse, can you please move me to Alfred's spot?" The nurse reluctantly obliged and pushed his bed to the vacated location.
When the nurse was gone, Arthur whispered to Peter.
"Help me sit up."
When Arthur was up and comfortable, he turned to look out the tiny window that Alfred had helped him see through.
And so he did.
Arthur blinked several times, and stared through it incredulously.
On the other side of the window was a brick wall.
Arthur began to curse several obscenities that Peter definitely didn't need to hear. The nurse in charge of floor ran back to his bed side, forgetting to scold him for sitting up.
"Arthur, what's wrong?"
"When the bloody hell did they have this wall constructed?" Arthur was on the verge of angry tears.
The nurse regarded him oddly. "Mr. Kirkland, that wall has always been there."
"But that's impossible," Arthur argues back, since Alfred was always telling him what was outside. Its his cheerful talk that brought him out of his stupor. He began to relay all that Alfred had told him , but the nurse cuts him off.
"Mr. Kirkland, that is impossible."
"And why, pray tell, is that?"
"Patient Alfred F. Jones is a blind man. He was a firefighter, and he was one of the first men on the scene. It's the dust got the better of him. Damage slowly stole it from him. It was gone by the time you were admitted here
"Admirable man he is. But come now, its about time you were released from this place."
But Arthur was no longer listening to the nurse's voice, nor did he realize he was transferred into a wheelchair, and that he signed papers. But he did notice when he was pushed out the front doors of the hospital, giving him his first moments back into the world Alfred helped him want to see again. He took in the people around, the trees, and his brother next to him, before setting his eyes to the blue sky above him.
And then Alfred's voice resounded in his head:
"Even in the darkest moments of life, never give up."
OlOlO
For the men and women lost during 9/11,
May they be remembered in our hearts always.
For those affected by 9/11,
May you please never give up on the world.
Thank you for reading these words.