A/N: Holy Mackerel. Just two more chapters to go and then we're done.
Time travels fast, doesn't it? :)
Oh, and I hope all you guys figured out the reason for the story title now. lilmizz3vil did. Congratulations. :)
--
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The clock, with Mickey Mouse in the middle, continued on in the same pattern.
It must have been boring work for old Mickey, swinging his arms fractionally every second. Just standing there, grinning cheesily, with not a clue as to how many people were staring at him, waiting with bated breath for the blood red light under him to turn off.
I was one of those people. I was perched on the edge of the cold hard plastic seat outside the operation theatre, staring at the clock. And to me, Mickey seemed to be moving way too slowly.
It had been an hour since I had witnessed Jesse being run over by that truck. Now, as I was sitting in the immaculate hospital, I couldn't even remember how that hour had passed by. I could vaguely make out Jesse's bloody head on my lap, me clutching his equally bloody hand desperately, the red and blue flashing of the ambulance, my parents making urgent calls…all of which had been wasted on me.
Now, the only thing that mattered in the world to me was Jesse's heartbeat. That tiny steady thrumming in his chest which normally nobody would notice. But today, it was the most important thing in the whole world for me.
Funny, how these small things can change the whole course of people's lives.
"Susie?"
I looked up at the sound of my mom's soft voice. The sound was very comforting to me. She sat down next to me and pulled me into her arms. I buried my face in her lime blossom-smelling hair and closed my eyes.
A slow tear escaped out of my squeezed eyes. Soon another followed. Then another. And another. Soon I was weeping hysterically into my mom's hair.
It was like, suddenly, the whole weight of the situation dropped onto my head. Jesse's life was on the line here and it was all because of me. Stupid, idiotic me. Me, who had rejected him so harshly. Me who didn't deserve his love.
"It's alright, Susie. He's going to be OK. I'm sure he'll be alright," my mom whispered into my ears, patting my back consolingly.
My face contorted, I pulled back and looked into her eyes, green just like mine. "Mom, what if…what if he…he doesn't…?" I couldn't finish the sentence. I just couldn't utter the fact that Jesse might die any moment.
It just seemed so impossible that Jesse could die any moment now. Jesse, who was always so confident and full of life. Jesse, who was so comforting to hold and who would take my breath away whenever he kissed me.
Jesse, who loved me so much that he got himself run over by a truck to save me.
I saw something like uncertainty flicker in my mom's eyes. But she soon covered it with her usual lovely smile which had always been a source of comfort and envy for me since I had been three- years-old.
"Don't worry. He'll be alright, I'm sure Susie," she said, stroking my hair.
It was weird how that nickname which I hated so much was suddenly so comforting to me. Susie. I had absolutely hated it especially when my mom used to call me that in front of others. Now though, it proved to me that at least some things were still normal. That not everyone I loved was being taken away from me. I still had my mom with me.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of people rushing in. Looking up from my mom's shoulder, I saw a man and woman and five girls half-run half-walk in with looks of intense worry etched on their faces.
I recognized one of them. Josefina. So this was Jesse's family.
They spoke urgently in Spanish with the nurse at the desk, who answered back in the same language and then nodded towards where mom and I were sitting. I saw Josefina's eyes widen.
"Suze!?" she cried, rushing towards me. "What happened? Where's Jesse? I heard he…a truck?"
I gulped. "Jesse got hit with a truck. He's in the operating room now," I answered blandly. I really couldn't see what else there was to add.
Josefina looked back at her family and they started speaking in Spanish. I zoned out. Because hearing them speak the language had reminded me of something else.
Before he had passed out, Jesse had whispered two words to me in his mother tongue.
"Te Amo."
That was it. Then he had fallen into a faint. In the urgency of the moment, I hadn't taken much notice of his words. I had been too busy trying to get someone to call an ambulance.
Now, though, as I was sitting on that hard orange plastic bench, waiting for the doctor to walk out of the operation theatre, I would have given anything to know what they meant. If they were to be his last words, then…
"Josefina?" I croaked.
She turned her worried eyes on me. "Yes?"
"What does…te amo mean?" I asked hesitantly.
She looked at me strangely. "It means 'I love you'," she answered. "Why?"
But I didn't hear her question. Because a massive torrent of water had started pouring out of my eyes. I hung my head and brought my hands to my face, not bothering to control my volume.
He loved me. Even as he lay bleeding to death, he had reached out to prove his love to me.
My mom tightened her grip around my shoulders and brought my head down onto her shoulders. Stroking my hair, she whispered words of comfort to me. None of which actually worked.
When my body had totally run out of water for more tears, I just gazed numbly at Jesse's family from my mom's shoulder.
They had money, you could tell. Mr. de Silva was in an Armani suit and polished black loafers. It looked like he had just come rushing out in the middle of a business meeting. Jesse's mom was clad in a silk sundress and expensive looking heels. As she brought her hands to cover her crying face, the diamond-studded Swiss-made watch on her wrist sparkled.
But, I thought, what's the use of all this money now? When their only son, who they have brought up and loved for twenty years, is on the edge of life and death?
Time went on and the Mickey Mouse grinned on.
David brought me a Diet Coke and gave me a sad half-smile. Jake came and sat next to me, tapping his foot on the floor. Andy just stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a grim look on his face.
Then, suddenly, one of Jesse's sisters cried out in Spanish, breaking all of us from our trances. She excitedly pointed at the doors of the operation theatre. Or, to be more precise, right above them.
The red light had turned off.
This was it. The moment of truth. The tossing of the coin. Heads, he lives. Tail, he…
The double doors opened and a very tired doctor walked out with a nurse. He spoke to her quietly and she nodded and walked away.
All of us, Jesse's family and mine, rushed towards the doctor.
"How is he, doctor? How is my son?" asked Jesse's mom expectantly. Even at a time like this, she didn't lose her manners. She spoke in English for our sake.
The doctor sighed. "He…he lived."
Jesse's family cried out in joy. His sisters and mom started crying tears of happiness. But I just continued looking at the doctor grimly. He had not finished, I knew.
"But," the doctor continued. "He has suffered from a massive amount of injury. It was a miracle he survived."
Josefina's smile faltered. "But they will be cured…right?"
The doctor glanced at the floor then back at her. "Not all of them. Yes, many of the injuries, like the broken ribs and arms and scars can be healed. But, I'm afraid his right leg was damaged beyond hundred percent curing. Young Mr. de Silva may have to limp for the rest of his life. The amount of limping may be reduced through exercise but a slight limp, at least, will always remain."
We gaped at him.
My brain was whirring with emotions. His right leg would never be the same again. He'd have to limp for the rest of his life.
A tear seeped out of my eyelid. Jesse, who had loved dancing salsa so much, may never be able to dance again. And it was all because of me.
If there was ever a moment in my whole life in which I hated myself more anything or anyone on the whole wide world, it was now. I wanted to just curl up and die.
And when Jesse wakes up and finds out, he'll hate me too. More than I even hate myself. He'll never want to face the girl who destroyed his life.
This sudden realization pierced me like broken glass. I'd have to leave. I'd never be able to talk to him again. To kiss him again.
'Ha', I thought wryly. 'A few hours ago, you were more than willing to never talk to him again. And now that he won't want to, now you want to talk to him. You got what you deserve, Simon.'
"Can we see him?" Jesse's eldest little sister, Marta, was asking the doctor.
"Yes, but only three people at a time. He is in a very delicate state now. You will need to wear protective clothes. And please don't disturb him. He has not regained consciousness yet. We may call it a slight coma. But, don't worry, he'll wake up in time," said the doctor, and then walked away.
I went back to sit on the plastic bench as Jesse's family took turns to go and see him. Mrs. de Silva had kindly offered me to go in and see him first.
"You see him first. If it wasn't for you, my Jesse may have been dead now," she said tearfully, smiling at me gratefully.
If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have been hit by a truck in the first place.
Guilt-ridden, I declined her offer and told her I would like to see him alone at the end.
Soon they had all finished visiting him and Jesse's mom smiled at me sadly and nodded towards his hospital room. I smiled back at her and went to put on the coat and mask and cap before entering his room.
Once I was inside the room, alone with his unconscious form, all my tears came back to me. I walked over to stand by his side. He had all these wires sticking out from him and almost his whole body was bandaged.
I just stood gazing at his handsome, noble face and crying silently for some time. Then, with a gloved hand, I reached out and stroked his pale cheek softly. And I answered back to him in my mother tongue.
"I love you too, Jesse."
Then, I turned around and left, leaving Jesse, the hospital and Spain behind me.
--
