More than just words break silence.
I must have been sitting there, thinking for hours. This was much after everything had happened... you know when you're just sitting around, and stuff starts to catch up with you? That's how my life was. I didn't realize how bad things were, or what had even truly happened, until about two years later.
And I'll tell you right now, I didn't want an easy life. Everyone else wanted me to: my parents, my grandparents, my teachers. It was ridiculous. It was like because I was white, because I was rich, because I was this cute little kid who had magically jumped off the S.S. Uterus one summer afternoon thirty years ago, I should be allowed to be charmed and loved by all. Let me be the first to tell you, I didn't want it then, I don't want it now, and I shall scorn it for the rest of my existance.
But again, that's jumping a little farther upstream. Lucy had been dead for well over a year when I first started to really think about her. I had always thought about her before, but it was a different kind of thought. It was greiving, it was trying to get through one day at a time without completely breaking down and doing something regretable or irresversible to myself. I tried, and.. well, I stumbled more than I walked through that time, but I got through it. I kept breathing. Well... Lucy didn't. And that's when it hit me.
I had been done with rehab for a little more than four months. I was chief resident, thankfully proclaimed, and may I add, I earned that position to its fullest extent. To go through hell and Kerry Weaver in the same year is like making love to the devil twice, which, although I cannot literally proclaim to have succumb to that, probably stings like hell. But I got the position. And there was no one there to share the moment with. It was like, "Finally! I did it! Look County! No, look world! John Carter is back! He made it, and he's all there!"
But it wasn't quite like anyone else was there. Well, Deb was, Mark Greene was, Kerry herself was there. And then there was Abby, sweet, gentle Abby, in all of her lifelike glory and charm. But she wasn't lying on the floor bleeding to death beside me, now was she? She hadn't suffered that hell, that extreme pain, felt no mercy, and then watched a friend bleed to death while techno music boomed in the background. And the other part to that was, while I was winning and having a moment, Lucy's moment had passed. And her time to have opportunities would be over. I couldn't help but feel like I had been a part of that.
That's when I realized what Lucy was, and what we had actually gone through. She was a friend, a daughter, and a student to different minds. And she was so much more than just bleeding to death on the hospital floor, which was something I hadn't realized up until this moment of thought in the trauma room. It was like playing through a team. Maybe you had to be there... watching life pass in a moment where your closest friends was watching the same thing as you were. Lucy and I, we both struggled with this magical odd of death of of its extravagent overpowering touch, feeling the overwhelming urge to beat it, like it was merely an opposing team in the softball tournament. I sat silently, remember what the inevitable felt like.
...
I was almost afraid to speak out. If there was only the sound of silence in response, then I would know the worst had come.
"Lucy... are you there?" I managed to whisper through the pain.
"Yeah." It came back slowly and quietly, through a forced, clattering jaw.
I waited such a long time before speaking again. Silence had already filled the gap. "I am so sorry, Lucy..." My teeth ungridlocked themselves for a breaking minute in order to let me get the words out, my words drenched in regret and sincerity.
"It's okay," she said again quietly, indicating she was in enough pain to overpower words. It took me a moment, but I rearranged myself so that I could see her at an angle, if I tilted my head up. It hurt, like the knife was still protruding from my back, but the pain was sacrificial to the sight of a possible last moment.
"So," she said, after awhile, "do you think it's bad?"
As weak as she sounded, and as much pain as I knew she must have been in, and as much pain as was soaring through my sore, stimulantly ignorant body, I clenched the rail of the crash cart, trying to pull myself closer to her. "Nah. Probably just a paper cut."
I could hear the faint gasp of a passing laugh from Lucy, but no more after that. "That's all." She spoke briefly, and I knew there was little time left to luxury conversation's most intimate wisdom.
"What do you think Heaven's like?" I asked her, just to pass the time. The pain made it seem like hours had passed since I had flopped down in a bloody rage beside her. I almost wondered if people even knew we were missing.
"People think clouds. I think..." her voice faded away softly. For a moment, I thought she may have passed out, or fainted from blood loss. I was swimming in some of my own. "I think," she began again after the long moment, "it's a big prom. Long, flowing gowns... dim lights, and slow dance music."
"And big hair?" I asked, trying to cut a smile across my face.
For the last time, I heard her softly, muffling laugh fill with voice. "Yes, and big hair." I heard her grasp the opposite leg of the crash cart, and I could hear her struggle to pull her limp body toward it. "Only the dance never ends." Lucy's eyes blinked at me, silently, across from me. The music in the background that had boomed loudly was fading away as I looked into her eyes. I hadn't noticed how blue they were before now.
"But we're not going to have to worry about getting a limo," I said, scooching my body closer. The smear of blood traced the floor, and I only had to glance for a moment. Things were starting to blur, and my mind was beginning to leave its senses slightly. "I uh... Lucy?"
"Yeah, Carter?"
"If we have to, if we end up... well, will you go to the prom with me?"
"Yeah." Lucy reached her arm out to me slowly, wincing incredibly painfully as she stretched. I saw her hand there, five fingers covered in blood reaching out to me. I went to stretch mine out, only to find a shock of pain wave up my back. I readjusted slowly. Finally I managed my reach to hers, and our bloody palms met each other in life for the last time.
"What are you going to wear?" I asked, my hand still gripping hers as I pulled her a little closer.
"It's blue sparkles... real long in the back." I could feel her grip getting softer, so I lowered our embrace to lean against the cool tile floor.
"Sounds pretty." I had to say anything, anything to keep us awake and talking.
"And you?" she asked, though it was drowsy.
"Nothing special. Just black..." Our grip softened, then got weaker, until our fingers began to uncoil themselves. My eyes were getting casually heavy, so I shut them for an only intended moment. "I... I might be a little late though..."
"Late?" Lucy's question was barely audible.
"I... my hair takes awhile..."
"Oh..." And that was the last of our conversation. Both fading into an unconscious blur, our hands parted, and we bled right there beside each other.
Although I'm sure neither one of us knew what I was talking about then, it's all clear to me now. Lucy made it to the prom, because she died right there beside me. But I was, am... and perhaps ever shall be late to our prom. I didn't realize it until now, because I was so busy thinking about Lucy the med student, not Lucy my friend. Maybe it was easier to get over the med student than it was to get over my closest thing to a soul mate, or a best friend, or whatever it is that you want to call it. But I guess, deep down somewhere, Lucy is my prom date. And perhaps no one will ever understand what that is like, what irreplaceable comfort can be found inside someone that you have gone through something of great triumph or great trauma with. That was Lucy.
I could swear, though, as I began to fade away, I heard a soft, inaudible voice say, "I'll see you at the prom," ... but Lucy didn't know what was going to happen. It's only a matter of ironic fate that we should have had that discussion. But I guess until then... I'll just fix up my hair, or on the literal side, I'll fix up my life... and then I'll see her at the prom.