Oh, Hi! Artina shippers, I've missed you!
"Artie," I laughed, tossing him a couple of sandwiches, "Please, don't forget these." Artie threw the sandwiches in a cliché wicker basket, still being careful not to injure them. He shot me a comical look, raising an eyebrow.
"You really think I would forget? The sandwiches are the most important part!" He joked, setting a stack of napkins in the basket next to the food. Gingerly, he set the rest of the containers in the basket, closing the lid. He set the basket in his lap, nodding. I swept a blue streak out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. I closed the high cabinets, the ones right out of Artie's reach, "Thanks, T." Artie said, flashing me a smile.
It was an actually funny story how I ended up in Artie's kitchen, packing the components to a picnic. We were sitting on Artie's couch at first, my head resting on his shoulder. Without looking straight at him, I still could paint a perfect picture of what he looked like and the things he was doing. I pictured his black glasses frames, accenting the brilliant blue of his clear eyes that seemed to mesmerize you every time you saw them. I could picture his perfect smile, with a wide grin, the kind that just made you want to smile along. I loved how when he wasn't smiling or talking, you could see what he was thinking, just by the way he twisted his lips to the side in thought. I pictured his ears that stuck out just a little bit too much, but in an adorable way. I knew his familiar brown hair, the softest hair I'd ever felt. I would run my hand through it deliberately when I kissed him, just to feel the strands between my fingers. Artie was an amazing kisser, just because of the feeling he put behind it. You could tell when Artie didn't mean a kiss and when he really did. It was almost magical, shooting you up into space whenever you made contact with him. The thing I loved the most, by far, was how Artie used his hands. I could feel him playing with the loose strands of my hair, twirling it in between his fingers. He told me the whole story about how after his accident, he used his hands more and more. He told me they were the "portals to the soul", which I thought was extremely cheesy, but adorable. I understood completely about how it was easier to get a grip on what something was by feeling it. I've caught Artie tracing the lines on my hands, just to feel them. That's why he took his gloves off when he wasn't wheeling himself around.
Anyway, we were watching something mindless on television that I really wasn't paying attention to. I was listening to Artie's steady breathing, comforting and gentle. He felt like home, if that makes sense. All of a sudden, Artie started talking to me.
"We should go do something tomorrow," Artie said, the smile clearly displayed in his voice. I sat up, looking him in the eyes. They were even clearer than I was used to. You could almost read his emotions.
"What should we do?" I laughed awkwardly, shaking the mesmiration out of my voice. He pressed a thoughtful finger to his chin, squinting and pressing his lips into a tight line. I held back my smile, biting my lip.
"Why don't we go on a picnic? I got my license," Artie smiled, bright and brilliant.
"Really? Oh, my gosh, Artie! That's amazing!" I exclaimed, pulling Artie into a tight hug. He returned it, wrapping his arms around my back. It was warm and comfortable.
"Yeah, the hand gears were hard to get used to, but I figured them out, I guess," He shrugged, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. His eyes studied my face thoughtfully for a moment. I blushed self-consciously. For a moment, I dwelled on the fact that I had absolutely no idea what Artie saw in me. The awkward, Asian goth that everyone seemed to run away from in the hallways. I didn't know how he could like the blue streaks that fell past my shoulders and the bright makeup that I wore. I had no clue why he would enjoy the crazy clothes I wore everyday. I didn't know how he could like the dark nail polish and the fish net gloves that I put on. I didn't understand.
"What?" I asked after a moment of watching Artie stare at me. He shook his head, laughing.
"Nothing," He paused, "You just look pretty." I smiled at him. Add that to the list of the things that I didn't know: how Artie could be so perfect. He slid a gentle hand on my cheek, leaning forward. He pulled me into a kiss, gentle and natural. It was like sitting in a summer breeze with him. We were as easy as the water trickling over the rocks in the local park. That's all I could think as our lips moved in unison. I could still feel the smile on his lips as he kissed me. It lasted for a minute or two. Artie didn't like kisses or hugs to end. They were always longer than I ever had, but not in an awkward way. It was always warm and perfect. The only words that ran through my mind were perfect. When we pulled away, Artie's smile was wide and dazzling. His eyes scrunched in happiness. I giggled at his face, hanging on to his hand.
I guess that was the story on what led us up to this picnicking idea. That's what led us back to the kitchen, my hands gripping the handlebars. I pushed him out of the door, closing it behind me. My head was somewhere else, thinking about playing with Artie's pet bunny. We would do the silliest things with that rabbit and I'm surprised it doesn't try to poop on me every time I pick it up. We've made the bunny get married to some of Artie's old G.I. Joes and his sister's old Barbies that were still in her room, even though she's been off on her own for years now. That's why Artie has 2 nephews, Richard and Brandon.
"Do you need help?" I asked, watching Artie transfer himself into the special car his dad bought for him. It was suited for him, the hand gears and extra seat belts. He shook his head, poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in effort. He got into the car seamlessly, strapping himself in. I folded up his wheelchair easily, extra practice for what I already knew how to do. I put it gently in the trunk, which was already popped open for me. I closed the silver trunk and made my way over to the passenger's seat. I sat down, strapped myself in and anticipated the ride ahead of us. I set the picnic basket down at my feet, watching Artie pull the car out of the driveway like a pro. I looked at him, impressed. He winked at me, shifting the hand gears. It made me the happiest to see him so excited, so giddy to be doing something he was scolding himself for years to stop thinking about because it was never going to happen. It made me even happier to see him so elated. I don't think he's ever been happier, even compared to the time I told him I liked one of his "def poetry jamz" (Which was true. It was pretty catchy.). We headed down the road through the vacant streets, Artie's melodic humming in the background. Once in a while, I could hear a few words escape his lips.
When your heart wears thin
I'll hold you up
And I will hide you when it gets too much
I'll be right beside you
I'll be right beside you
I smiled to myself, remembering the song. The song Artie sang for me on our first official date.
"I have something to tell you, Tina," Artie said, nervous but amused. I nodded to him.
"What is it?" I asked, peeling my gaze off of the road. Artie cleared his throat, preparing to tell me what he had to say. He pulled a little note out his pocket as we stopped at a stoplight. He handed the paper to me.
"Don't look at until you get home after the picnic, okay?" He assured, patting my hand when he put it inside of my outstretched fingers. I giggled skeptically, shoving it into the tiny pocket on the outside of my black skirt. The light changed to green, Artie's hands flying to the gears. I looked to the side of him as he smiled ahead at the road. I could see outside of the window, a car heading toward us as fast as it could. I could remember shrieking as the car sped toward us, running the red light that was supposed to be holding it back in it's place. Artie's gaze was panicked for a split second as the car hit the side of us, smashing into Artie's door.
"ARTIE!" I screamed, the shout drowned out by the blur of noise and light in front of me. Metal crunched, glass broke. I could remember Artie's seatbelts becoming disconnected, Artie's arms flying up into the air. I could vaguely hear the windshield crack as Artie was tossed out of his seat, his deep scream almost drowning out mine. My breath refused to come out of me as I watched a fragment of the door pierce Artie's stomach, deep enough to pass through the other side. I remembered the blood trickling down his back and his scream cut off, his eyes relaxing. I remember becoming aware of every single detail of what was going on. My heart beat, my breath, my eyes shut as tight as they would go...every single little thing. My brain was screeching at me to breathe, but I couldn't. All I could see was my boyfriend, fragments of scrap metal passed through his stomach. The glass was pierced through the skin on his arms, his whole body flailing around like a rag doll. That's all I could remember before my head was tossed against the window, the world slipping away like grains of sand...
Breathe. Heart, beat. Blink. Heart, beat. Breathe. Blink.
Pain. All I could feel was pain. Everything was blinding and white, waking up reluctantly an ugly building. I was in a bed, my legs covered in a hideous knit blanket. I could see nurses scuffling around, trying to keep their voices down. Everything was vague and misty. I had a bandage wrapped around my head, my hair coated in a crusty blood. My arm was wrapped up, along with one of my legs. I could remember some words from the panic before I got here.
Two teenagers, around 16. One boy, one girl. Boy with fatal injuries. Girl unconscious, arm broken...leg as well. Calling for back-up.
I spontaneously burst into tears. I thought of Artie. I thought of every little part of Artie. I thought of his smiles, his tears, his speech, his little pictures he would leave in my locker, his songs...everything. I told myself the stories of everything he's done, nearly clouded already.
"HE'S DEAD!" I screamed in my head, just translating to furious, hot tears. They streamed down my cheeks, soaking into the hospital gown I had on. I looked around, my ripped clothes sitting across the room. I breathed, remembering the note. A nurse bustled over to me.
"Sweetie?" A red-haired nurse asked me, expecting some kind of answer.
"Artie," I choked on my own tears, the only thing I could think about. The nurse bit her lip.
"Calm down, honey. Does anything hurt right now?" She asked me, checking the monitors around me. I repeated myself, "You need to relax. We are not sure what's going on with your friend right now, but we'll know soon enough."
"You d-don't h-h-have to lie to me," I said, remembering the worst words I'd ever heard. Fatal injuries, "H-h-he's DEAD." I screeched, sobbing. The nurse bit her lip, knowing I caught her in a lie.
"We're going to keep you here for a couple of days to see how you recover. We're going to put you into therapy for a while, because of the scenes you may have experienced," The nurse said, almost too sweetly. She checked my bandages.
"Can I just have my skirt, please?" I whispered through the curtain of tears. The nurse obliged reluctantly, handing me the blood-stained pile of clothes. I dug through them with my free hand, my fingers finding the zipper pocket. I unzipped it carefully, pulling the note out.
I love you, Tina!
XOXOXO, Artie
The note had little hearts written all over it, little cartoons of me and him, replaying the memories that he carried away with him. The moment stabbed me in the chest, destroying every last hope I had for myself. I bit down on my lip, trying to silence myself. I buried my head in the pillow I had behind my head, grieving as loudly as I could. It always helped me feel better. I didn't think it was going to work that time, but it didn't stop me from trying. I tried to fall asleep again, but my brain refused. At that moment, I didn't really know how to feel. I loved Artie more than I could ever say, scream, write...anything. I loved him more than life itself. He was perfect and he loved me back. Now, he's gone. He left a hole in my chest where he once resided to stay forever. I wanted to pull my legs up, just to hold all of me inside. I didn't want to fall apart. I didn't want to be a black hole, sucking in every little good thing in my life to go die.
The next few days were hell. All I could do was cry. I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. After crying so much, I sort of settled down. After that, I slept. I slept for 2 days straight. Right after I woke up, everything hurt. My back, my neck, my arms, legs, head...all of me ached, especially my chest. I know that you feel in your head, but my chest physically ached for Artie. I just wanted him back to me. That same day, I wrote every single memory I had of Artie, down to every last detail. I probably had 3 pages filled with just a description of how his lips tasted. I filled 2 notebooks with memories. I would look back and be grateful I did, but all of the tears were stained with bitter tears. Through all of this, my parents and various members of the Glee Club would come to visit me.
"I'm sorry," They would say. I didn't understand why they were apologizing to me. I was going to grow up. I was going to get a job and have a family. I was going to have a life. Artie wasn't. He died never knowing what Prom would be like, what having kids would feel like, what it would be like to see your child smile up at you. He was never going to know. I just nodded, not saying much to anyone. Therapy was a joke. I didn't want to go. Talking about what was causing me pain just made me feel worse, because no matter how much I talked about it, Artie wasn't going to magically re-appear.
The next day, I started to feel guilty. I blamed myself for everything that happened. I blamed myself for letting Artie get in the car, I blamed myself for accepting to go on the picnic. I blamed myself for everything that led up to the car crash.
My dreams became vivid and gory, Artie's picture re-appearing in my head multiple times. I dreamed of Artie yelling at me to save him repeatedly, the huge piece of scrap metal drove through his stomach. I dreamed of him kissing me then suddenly withering away into a pile of dust in front of me. That's when the crying started again. I had nothing to distract myself, nothing to do in the unforgiving place. I guess it was good to cope, but it hurt so. bad. The crying kept going, just not as much. The rows of potted plants and vases of vivid flowers were starting to line the walls, along with various teddy bears and balloons. I didn't understand why people thought that would help, either.
A week later, I was out of the hospital. I was discharged, back alone at home. My parents were trying to be supportive, but all I wanted to do was be alone. All I wanted to do was block everyone out. I just wanted to go through my things and be one with myself. That's exactly what I did. The second day I was home, I dug around under my bed for what I liked to call "The Artie Box". It was everything Artie and I ever collected, goofy pictures, sloppily written notes, favorite movies, games and everything else we liked to do. I sat on the floor, my broken leg sprawled out to the side. My useless arm was hanging there as I used my good one. The hole in my chest started to burn around the edges as I went through the box. I was crying silently, a few tears dripping down my face. I came across an especially goofy picture of us. Artie was kissing me on the cheek, his eyes open and crazy. I was laughing like an idiot. His bow tie matched my shirt, coordinating for the first time in the history of us. I held it up, looking at it for a few minutes. All of the feelings for him came rushing back, the hole bleeding again. I kept going through the box, preserving every last detail in my mind. I layed down on the floor, curling up to the box of memories. As the moon mingled with the clouds, I fell asleep on the floor, aching for that feeling I got when I curled up next to Artie. It never came.
The next day, I decided to go see Artie's family. I felt so selfish. My broken heart was nothing compared to the pain they were feeling with their son long gone. I made the trip alone, walking over to his house. We only lived about a block away, so I crutched my way there. I rung the doorbell, Mrs. Abrams greeting me.
"Oh, honey," She whined, pulling me into her arms. I could hear her breathy sobs behind me, tears dripping down my neck. We went inside as I started to cry, sitting on the couch. I sat in my regular spot, sinking in to the cushions. I glanced around, seeing the new pictures added to the walls. A couple of them had me in them. The memories were so close, I could almost taste them. Mr. Abrams walked into the living room, Artie's pet bunny in a cage hanging from his hand.
"Tina, we wanted you to take care of Nathaniel, if you wanted to. Artie always told me that Nathaniel was like a pet to both of you, being that you picked him out together," Mr. Abrams said gruffly, gingerly handing me the cage. I took him out of the cage, setting him gently on my lap.
"Artie had a lot to say about you, Tina," Mrs. Abrams began, "I can remember the day when you two first started dating. I remember walking in on him blasting Taylor Swift and rolling around his room." She chuckled dryly, no real feeling behind it, "He was so happy. He would tell me every day how much he cared about you and how you are the first girl he's ever felt such a deep feeling for. He really loved you." Mrs. Abrams cried, nodding at me. I noticed myself start to cry again, thinking about how much I loved him, too. Nathaniel sat calmly in my lap, not making a sound. He nudged my knee with his nose, itching to be pet. I stroked his back gently, getting tiny squeaks in return. We reminisced for a while, crying and Mr. Abrams handing me pictures and other things that Artie kept of us. The thing that stuck out the most was Artie's yellow gloves. He left them at home the day we went to go picnic, just so he could hold my hand. After that, I admit I put them on a couple of times. They were larger and hung loosely on my hands, the frayed ends tickling my wrists. I felt terrible after that and took them off promptly. We all said our goodbyes and I headed back home.
It was night when I finally reached my house. I had Nathaniel in his cage, limping on one crutch. Once I got home, I put Nathaniel on my desk and headed back outside. I sat in the dewy grass, staring up at the moon. I still had the picture of Artie and I in my pocket, which I took out to look at in the dim moonlight.
"Artie, wherever you are, I just really need you to know that I'm okay. I miss you more than you will ever know. I love you, too, " I said to the sky, my words standing alone. For a split second, I could swear I felt something brush against the lines of my hands. My breath was swept away for a split second before I mouthed again:
I love you, too.
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