•Chapter 17•
I've returned, guys! Yay! :) Sorry it took so long. I feel so bad for not updating, so I figured I'd do it ASAP, so here I am, uploading this in class :P
Man, my school trip was awesome. All but two students got sick … (I'm one of the two :P)
Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favourites!
Happy reading!
2015
"You're being ridiculous."
Hazel stands in the doorway, arms crossed, her normally sweet expression replaced by one of displeasure.
I groan. "You again?"
"Yes, it's me again!" she exclaims. "C'mon, Perce. You're being an idiot and you know it. Think about it." She crosses the hall and sits down in front of me. "Go visit your fiancée."
"I—I don't—"
She sighs. "Perce, it doesn't matter whether or not you've gotten used to her being in a coma. It doesn't. What matters is that you're still taking the time to visit her, to talk to her. To just … see her." She pauses a little and stands up, looking me right in the eye. "You're lucky Annabeth is still here," she says quietly. "I'd give anything to see my mother one last time, even if she was in a coma.
"Sometimes, I can't remember what she looks like exactly until I look at her picture on the wall, and that scares me," she admits, her voice tinged with sadness. "I don't want to forget her. She wasn't the best mother, but she still was my mom. She loved me and did the best she could. She wanted me to have a happy life. Forgetting everything she did isn't an option, but I don't want to forget other things, either. I don't want to forget the exact shade of brown her eyes are, the way she smelled, the way her smile was like a blanket of comfort to me." She smiles a little wistfully. "I loved the sound of her voice. She had one of those rare ones who were soothing, but they didn't put you to sleep. And when she sang … those are one of my favourite memories of her.
Hazel decides that's enough about her mother and switches back to her original topic: Annabeth. "Whether or not Annabeth responds doesn't matter. Some doctors think people in comas can still hear, but they're just trapped in their own body. And, if she really could hear you, she would like to talk to her, right? It's natural for you to be used to something after it occurs for so long. There's nothing bad in the fact that you're used to talking to silence. When you were used to it, you weren't hurting as much, right?"
My friend takes my silence to go on. "I've gotten used to my mother being dead for four years. I've gotten used to it. True, I miss her a lot, but it just makes my memories with her even more precious."
"How can you be so strong?" I murmur.
She smiles a sad, sympathetic smile at me. "When a parent passes, Percy, you grow years older in a couple of weeks. You mature a lot more, because you learn some life lessons you can never do over. You grow up because you never knew how lucky you were to have what you had, but once you've lost it, you realize how important it was to you. Life wasn't easy after my mom died, but my neighbour talked to me about it. Her words really helped, you know. And now, I'm passing that message to you."
"Thank you, Hazel," I say gratefully. "I don't know how much that helped, but … thank you."
"You're lucky Annabeth is still here," adds Hazel. "You still have more memories to make with her. You get a second chance with her; something I'll never be able to have. Don't waste it." She turns me towards the door and gently pushes me to it. "Go talk to your fiancée."
The road splits into two forks: one going straight and the other going right. A blue sign reading SAN FRANCISCO GENERAL HOSPITAL hangs overhead one fork, and the other is labelled DOWNTOWN. In a split-second decision, I veer right and go off the highway. Downtown San Francisco is packed with horns honking, cars zooming by, and sirens wailing. It reminds me much of Manhattan, and a brief feeling of longing to go home flashes across me.
I know I can go home any time, but I refuse to. Not until Annabeth wakes up.
Hazel's words ring over and over in my head. You're lucky Annabeth is still here. You still have more memories to make with her. You get a second chance with her; something I'll never be able to have. Don't waste it.
On the way to my designated coffee shop, I remember that I've run out of paper, so I drop by the dollar store to purchase a lined notebook, and because purple is Annabeth's favourite colour, a purple funky pen. Normally, I'll feel embarrassed, knowing that I, a young man of twenty-three, am buying a funky purple pen. But Annabeth loves collecting funky purple pens, and I'd know that she'll love this one—it is a special edition pen, and in the shape of an owl. Annabeth loves owls.
The café is not too far from the dollar store, so I leave my car where it is and enter the quiet, cozy atmosphere. Sitting down at a table, I order a coffee and begin to think. There were so many things I want to write, but I feel that it doesn't have a place in this letter.
"Man, I forgot how hard writing letters are," I mumble to myself as I start writing. "How do I start? Formal? Informal? Texting-style? Oh my gods"—I bang my head on the table—"this is difficult. Even more difficult than I remember."
Breathe, Percy, breathe. Calm down. You're not getting marked on this. It's just a letter to your fiancée.
"Thanks, oh Wise Inner Percy," I mutter sarcastically. "That totally helped." Risking a glance around, I notice that no one's noticed the crazy lunatic (me) talking to himself in a corner of the café.
Dear Annabeth—
It's been years since I last wrote a letter to you. It's been years, and I hate it just as much. I could've easily typed this out on the computer, but Mrs. Leer was right, all those years ago: There is something intimate, some more genuine, about letter-writing. And I have to be completely honest with you here—100% honest.
You've been in a coma for five months, but truthfully, it feels like a lifetime. When I think back about our time before we left the States, those times feel so fuzzy, so clogged. Has it really been that long ago?
Hazel said something to me today, something that made me stop and re-evaluate my life. It made me realize so many things. I'm so lucky, still, to be able to see you and talk to you. Many people can't do that anymore, and they probably envy the fact that I can. I've been so caught up in other things, like the possibility that you will never wake up, or that you will and you won't remember anything. I forgot to look at the good things too, and … ever since Hazel mentioned it to me this morning, I've been feeling more and more guilty.
I still may be afraid, but so what? Fear isn't going to help you out of your coma. Nothing will. I just have to believe that you're strong enough to do this on your own.
Actually, I take that back. I don't just believe that you're strong enough to do that, I know.
You may not be able to see me, but I can see you. And I can see it even when you're not responding to us, that you can do this. You can do this, because you're the Annabeth I fell in love with, the spunky, nerdy, sarcastic Annabeth that I met all those years ago.
The guys are right, though. I've made a fool of myself when I should've believed that you will be able to do this.
But what if you don't wake up? What will I do then? Will I become the blubbering mess I was before? Or will it be something different this time? I honestly don't know, but I do know one thing: It will make my memories with you even more precious, because that will be all I have.
I don't want to lose you, but there is this small chance that I will. And if I do, I never, never, ever, want to forget your face. I haven't been visiting you lately, and I'm sorry. But now, I have learned the price of loss, and if I ever miss another day without seeing your face, I will never forgive myself.
You're strong enough to get out of this coma. I know you are. And one day, I'll see those gray eyes of yours that I've missed so much.
—Percy
"So, I wrote you a letter today," I say as I walk into her room. "I still hate writing them, don't worry." I laugh a little as I pull up a chair beside her bed. "I just felt that it was more appropriate to write you rather than tell you, you know? And I don't know if I'll ever show you, really. I think it was more of a 'I'm finally going to pull myself together' letter that I wrote, even if I addressed it to you."
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"These past few months, I've really gone crazy, Annabeth. I've hurt everyone around me, and I'm so ashamed of that. I hurt everyone around me, but they still stuck by me. Why?"
Because that's what friends do, duh, Annabeth would say.
"I know that it's cause they're my friends, and that's what they do, but why? They could've just stopped being friends with me."
Friends don't do that. Not real friends anyway. They stick by you, through thick and thin. Cheesy? Yeah, but sometimes the cheesiest things hold some truth in them.
"I'm sorry for running off like that last time I came," I tell her. "I shouldn't have done that, and I promise you"—I reach out and grab her right hand and enclose it in mine—"that will never, ever happen again. I will visit you every single day, without fail, until the day you wake up." I smile a little as I rub her hands in mine. Her hands have always been cold. "And I swear that in blood. So, you'll see me tomorrow, the day after that, and the—" I stop suddenly. Something has changed. Something. Something.
Then I realize what it is.
It's her hand.
It's no longer limp. It's firm, and her fingers are slowly moving, gently touching my skin. I fixate my eyes on them, half-believing I am starting to hallucinate. Could it be …?
She shifts a little, but her eyes stay close. Come on, come on. Please wake up.
I don't dare make a sound. I hold my breath, not even wanting to breathe.
Her eyes flutter open once, then close again.
With more difficulty this time, she opens them again, revealing those grey irises I have been missing for so long. She holds my gaze, and I hold hers, not wanting to blink. Some irrational part tells me if I do, she'll be in a coma like she was yesterday, and the day before that. It says that I'm dreaming, a dream I've always longed to see happen. I know it's not real, I know that the irrational part of me is lying, but I'm afraid to acknowledge that it's real. I can't lose her again. Not when she's finally awaken and I've finally gotten her back.
She swallows once, then twice, and wets her lips.
"Percy?"
YAY I'M PRETTY SURE YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER! :) IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEEE :)))
Reviews:
Average Canadian: You ought to read it! It's really good! Thanks!
JustAnAverageBookLover: YAY IT'S WARM! Ew, I know how you feel. I hate it when the snow melts and everything gets all muddy and slushy :( Thanks!
Toby4138: Here you go! The reason I dragged his moping around for so long is cause I really wanted one character to make him snap out of it and it would contrast him better lol. Also, I didn't want to make this a "Percy is so macho" thing … I wanted to show a different side of him lol. Like a more vulnerable side, one only few can see. So yeah … Thanks!
ShootingStarMuffin: I TOTALLY GET YOU AHAHAHA I DON'T DO CALM EITHER. Awwwww thanks! I had my friend read it over cause he's the biggest sap on the planet and he totally loved it so I was like, "Yup, this is post-worthy." XD
PoppyOhare: Here's the next chapter! :) Thanks!
769174569 (Guest): New reviewer! Man, I hope I didn't type those numbers wrong :P Thanks for the review! And thanks for being polite and saying "Thank you" after shouting at me :P
RebelDiAngelo (Guest, Chapter 9): New reviewer! Hi to you too! :) Aw, thanks :)
Guest (Chapter 1): New reviewer! Thanks :) It's from the lyrics of a song :D
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I'm gonna try to upload soon again (I know, I always say that … sorry?) I've got the ending written down already, and the beginning, so all that's left is to connect them together :)
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-K