Only a Memory
Wendy Raimi
Disclaimer: I own Swirls, Julius and Penelope. Everyone else belongs to Warner Bros. and that whole gang of people.
Author's note: I wrote "Little Orphan Warner" and then had about a trillion stories planned, with "A Tale of Two Studios" to be my prequel and "Secrets and Lies" to be my sequel/ending. This was one of my little personal writing assignments to see get a bit into my character. For a bit of a background, Julius ends up being the son of Yakko and Penelope. I've edited this from the original (by Avalon how bad the original was!). Anyway, it's about 1:30am so I apologize for posting this. However I do hope a few of you gain some sort of happiness out of this, whatever it may be.
Only a Memory
When it comes to most people's memories, they usually end up being rather sketchy the more they age, but mine only seem to grow sharper. Who knows, maybe it's in my bloodline, the fact that my memory just gets better and better. Either way, I don't think I want to dwell on it.
But there is a memory I can't help but dwell on, almost every day of my life and I wonder why it is this memory out of all the others that is so important to me. What was it about this particular memory that seems to haunt me where ever I go.
I was five when my uncle and two aunts were hit by a bus and sent to the intensive care unit at Mount Sinai hospital in Los Angeles, California. At this time in my life I was just getting ready to go to kindergarten and my parents still weren't married. I spent weekends with my father and weekdays with my mother but when the bus came and nearly killed my father's siblings, I spent much more time with my mother in our apartment in Yorba Linda. It was beginning to grow scary, almost dark in a way. I wanted to spend time with my father, see his smile again and I wanted to go to the racetracks with my aunt and uncle, but everyone was so sad and to my fragile little mind I understood none of it. When I would ask my mother what was wrong, she would just reply that my uncle and aunts were in a very deep sleep and no one was sure if they'd ever wake up again. I didn't understand, couldn't they just wake them up?
We would spend the days at home and the nights with my father in the hospital. He looked ragged and worn out, of course, that would be my thoughts when I would later look back upon this memory, but he did. So when he finally fell asleep on my mother's lap she whispered to me that I should go to sleep as well and I remember sleeping against a pillow my mom had let me bring with me.
Sometime within the night I had woken up cold and thirsty, wanting a drink of water. Mother was asleep so I dare not wake her up and who knew what would happen if I woke my father, so I got off the couch and began to walk down a nearby hallway. It seemed as if the only people who were up were me and the lady at the reception desk. All I wanted was to find a water fountain, but it seemed as if fate had different plans for me.
Either way by the time I was done walking I was standing next to my Auntie Swirls in the ICU at the hospital. Without their distinguishing hats, my aunt and uncle looked practically the same, as they should. They were twins, but the odd thing was that with out the flower tucked between her two ears, my Auntie Dot looked exactly like the twins. I was sure if my father lay with them, he too would like exactly alike and it was then that I realized I would never look exactly like them. My fingertips looked as if they had been dipped in some sort of pink solution. My ears were attached slightly more askew on my head than my relatives. My face had more of a peach color to it than the stark, paper white of my father. The rest of my body was as black as pitch.
I remember reaching out for my Auntie Swirls' hand and gently entwining my fingers with hers. Out of perhaps all four of them, it was my Aunt Swirls who taught me the most about numbers. My Uncle about the way things live, my Aunt Dot to teach me how to be proud and my father...my father taught me how to read, write, tell jokes, be friendly towards other people, when to get angry…I could make a list that would go on forever. My mother was the disciplinarian and I can't help but smile at that.
I leaned up to my Aunt's cheek and gently kissed her, hoping somehow that this would make her get well and make my daddy stop crying. Instead of my Aunt waking up though, my Uncle did.
"Jules, what are you doing here?" his voice was weak and harsh from the unused but I could still hear him and I smiled when he woke up. Walking over to him, I hugged him gently, somehow knowing his strength might not have been better. He granted me a smile and rubbed his head.
"Littl' sore?" I asked, my own voice tinged with the accents of all that
I spent my time with. Wakko rubbed his neck, but nodded all the same. He watched as I looked over to my aunt's.
"If my head didn't hurt so much, I would wake her up." My uncle said, meaning that he would use his telepathy to wake up his sister. It was odd for me at that age because I didn't quite understand how they could do that. I would learn in time no one really did and no one wanted to question it.
"And Auntie Dot?" I questioned my uncle. Wakko sighed as he looked at her. Even though she was hurt the least, her injuries were still major enough to damage her little body.
"I'm sure she'll be fine." my uncle replied and in my head I began to remember...o/~ Ya gotta cheer up and never never give up hope...~/o
I don't remember what happened between talking to my Uncle and the dawning of early morning with the nurse walked in and stifled a scream, amazed that by then my Aunt Swirls and Uncle Wakko were talking to me as if they were completely unharmed. They checked on Dot and found that she would be up by afternoon if she kept healing at the pace she had suddenly taken up.
I do remember my mother and father kissing in the hallway when they received the news and I remember, strangely enough that they got married soon after.
It was like being born…only backwards.