In Memory

by CJ Lyons

  It’s fortunate that this lie ended up being something that redeems him in many people’s opinions.

  May visited today. Conversations with her are, as usual, a bit odd.

  “Hello.”

  Looked up, and saw her standing at the door. She was still wearing her school uniform, and had her stuffed cat with her. “How are you today, Aerian?”

  “’m okay, how are you doing?”

  “I suppose I cannot complain. I am more concerned for my brother at this point.” She strode in, taking off her backpack and approaching his bed. Delicately, she stepped onto the small stool beside the bed, and then placed her stuffed cat next to where he lay, unresponsive.

  “Big brother, I am going to leave Carmichael here to guard you.” The expression on her face had very subtle changes, think she was trying not to cry.

  Can’t blame her; if it were Terra in that situation, I would feel awful too. May leant over his bed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, big brother.”

  Hopping off the stool, she looked at me, her piercing blue eyes momentarily disarming. “Will you walk with me, Aerian?”

  Glanced at him, not wanting to leave his side for any reason.

  “He will not wake up until tomorrow, I assure you. Now, will you come with me?”

  Stood up, and she took my hand, “I need to tell you something.” She said softly, as we walked down the hallway. “There’s someone else who is going to be important to my brother. I met him a few days ago. He is the angel of autumn, Adarcel. He is meant to be with Talvi, not my brother.”

  “Wait, Talvi? Who’s that?”

  “He is the angel of the springtime. I believe you’ve met him.”

  “Huh?” We sat down in the sunroom area. There was only one other elderly lady. “Can you start again, this time explain a little more?”

  “My brother is an angel.” She said this like it was something I should already know.

  How does one respond to that? She said it so seriously. But I guess if I’ve spent all this time believing in curses and psychics, angels really aren’t a huge leap.

  “He’s the angel of winter,” she continued, “Something he will not realise for a very long time. And even when he does realise it, he will deny himself of it. Because of you.”

  “Er… why?”

  “Angels typically have another counterpart, a balance to their particular type of power. Otherwise, the universe could become unstable. Something akin to the relationship between Lucifer and Michael is mirrored in all other angels. There must be a balance.”

  “So why would he not accept he’s an angel because of me?”

  “Because when you die, he will take it as proof that you weren’t his guardian angel and that he himself is not one. He will be consumed by worthlessness.”

  I swallowed, “How do… how do you know?”

  “I am a clairvoyant.”

  “Why can’t I live? Is there something I can do to change what’s going to happen?”

  “There’s nothing you can do now.” May folded her hands in her lap, looking down at them. “I wish I could tell you something else, Aerian, but the truth is, you only have 77 days left here.”

  “But…” I began, and she looked at me, with blue eyes just like his. “That’s not enough. I need more time.”

  “There’s nothing to be done.”

  “I need more time!” I shouted at her, my frustration running away with me, “Don’t tell me things like this if you can’t help me!” Noticed the elderly lady was staring now, but I didn’t care. “You can’t do that to me! And how dare you resign your brother to that? Don’t you want to do everything in your power to make sure he’s happy?!”

  “There’s nothing I can do for you, Aerian Guildenstern.”

  “Nothing for me, but what about him?! Can’t you help him when I’m gone? Isn’t there something you can do?! You said you love him, but you’re going to just let him be miserable?!”

  “He will not accept my help when that time comes.”

  “So you’re just going to give up on him? You won’t even try?!”

  “I understand that you are angry, Aerian Guildenstern, but there is no escaping a fate once it has been written. And yours has already been decided.”

  “Nothing is written in stone about my fate.”

  “No, but it is written in time, which will destroy any stone.”

  Went silent, there was nothing I could say to that. There was a lengthy silence, and she looked at me intently the whole time.

  “I’m sorry for yelling.” I said eventually.

  “You’re anger is perfectly justified. I am sorry I had to give you this information, but it will help you in the future.”

  She stood up, and grabbed both my hands, standing in front of me. “You can still be happy. Take this as insurance. You may have 77 days of happiness with him. There will be trials, without a doubt, and you will play the role of his guardian angel, no matter how temporary the position.” She kissed my forehead, and I didn’t move, staring at our hands. “A temporary angel is better than nothing.”

  As she was leaving, she turned, offering me one last piece of reassurance. “Both of you will be happy. I promise. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Stayed with him all day, and into the night, even though I knew May would be right, and he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.

  76 Days, 13 December, Saturday

  May predicted correctly. Today was the day Noah woke up.

  It was a slow process, he was in and out briefly in the afternoon, but wouldn’t respond to anything.

  Around 9:30, when I was just beginning to feel tired, I noticed he was looking at me. Doubt he can see very well, actually. There’s only a tiny glimmer if his beautiful blue eye through his lashes.

  But I know he’s looking at me. There’s intensity in that cloaked steady gaze.

  Stood up slowly, and touched his hand, getting the usual shock of pain and fatigue. “Noah… You’re back…”

  He couldn’t respond; I’m not surprised, there were enough bruises around his jaw and throat that it would probably be too much effort.

  As if to communicate with me, he squeezed my hand twice. Something new buzzed to life under my touch.

  Something like happiness, or gratitude.

  It was so different from the other feelings he was projecting before. Ran my fingers across his face, and felt him lean into my touch slightly.

  “Aerie…” he whispered, almost imperceptible.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk.”

  He nodded, and closed his eyes again. He stayed asleep for the rest of the day until I went home. As I was getting ready to leave, I kissed him gently.

  It occurred to me that it would be less weird to kiss him now that he’s conscious, even if he was still asleep. Would have seemed pointless to kiss him when he was still under.

  Was making hot chocolate when Terra came home. We drank it in silence, taking solace in each other’s company. The companionable silence if comforting when there aren’t machines whirring and beeping and letting people know your vitals.

  I miss his silence.

  75 Days, 14 December, Sunday

  It’s been a strange day. Stranger than yesterday even, which is saying a lot.

  It was the coldest it’s been for a while, and the hospital was even feeling the chill. When I went to go get another blanket for him, they were nearly out. The last one they had was pale blue, and so thin it could barely be called a blanket anymore. A tissue blanket, maybe.

  Terra was working until eleven, so I was given permission to stay with him until then. Doubt the staff would have been so accommodating if he didn’t have his own room. Plus, they all know me well enough.

  Since I agreed to do a few tasks for Bee in the kitchens, I was gone between eight and nine, which is when he woke up again.

  He was struggling to sit up when I walked in. Gasping aloud, I rushed to his side, gently urging him to lie back down, to n
ot strain himself.

  “Aerie…” he whispered again, touching my face.

  “Hey, it’s okay… I’m here.”

  He let his hand drop to his side, and he licked his lips, swallowing. Could tell he was trying to say something. His words came out as subtle changes in his exhalation, forming whispery sounds. “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?” I asked, tucking a few flyaway strands behind his ear.

  He seemed to be struggling for an answer, moving his head around as he thought about it.

  “Not… exactly.” He winced, and licked his lips again. “I remember… seeing my sister. But…”

  “Do you know who it was? The one who hurt you?”

  I had to verify the story. Even though I was about 96% positive it was his father, I still had to make sure.

  “A man… I don’t know him.”

  My heart fell at that. I thought for sure, once he named his father, it could mean someone would do something. If his father was telling the truth…

  “He was… very angry. I don’t know him.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me. You can just rest now.”

  “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes, and relaxed under my touch, exhaling out a soft breath.

  So now what? He didn’t say it was his father.

  But he didn’t say it wasn’t. He doesn’t remember. This is why I never trust these important moments to something as fragile as memory.

  I’d never given a reason for writing this before. Now I know what it is. It’s because I don’t have faith that I’ll remember everything important.

  It’s not written in stone, but it’s written in time.

  Something more easily forgotten.

  74 Days, 15 December, Monday

  Today was a weird day. Maybe I should get used to these weird days in the hospital. I think maybe I’m just used the usual kind of humdrum ‘do this errand, peel these carrots’ type of stuff I usually do here.

  With Noah here, there’s always something else to anticipate.

  It was weirder than ever before today though. After doing a few things after school, (cause I actually went today, for the last three days before break) I went to his room, number 616.

  He wasn’t in his bed when I got there.

  Which was terrifying. Looked up and down the hall, checking to see if he was around, or if any other nurses were looking for him.

  Hurried into his room, and saw that both his IV needles were lying on the bed. Wildly, I looked around, initially under the impression I would find some other evidence of his lack of being there.

  His sheets and blankets were thrown across the bed like he had just got up and walked away of his own accord. That seemed impossible, but you never know with him.

  There was a bandage on the floor beside his bed. Picked it up, and then heard a noise, which seemed to be coming from the small bathroom set into his room. Can’t believe I forgot there was a bathroom attached to the room.

  Strode over to it, and slowly pulled the door open.

  And there he was, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, the centrepiece of a pile of bloody bandages. He was nearly naked, with the white hospital smock draped loosely around him. His gaunt reflection was reflected in the tall mirror on the opposite wall, lit weirdly by the incandescents filtering through the door.

  Taking a few measured steps, I made to reach out to him, stopping when he spoke. His voice was stronger than yesterday, but still very soft.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Noah… you’re…”

  He unravelled a length of dressings from his wrist, revealing a thick deep cut across it. “I don’t recognize these.”

  I was silent, stricken as I watched him.

  “I don’t know what happened to me.” He started picking at the gauze on his face, peeling the tape off. His movements became rushed and panicked, like he couldn’t rip those bandages from his face soon enough. Heard an abrupt change in his breathing; he hissed in a few short erratic breaths, pulling the bandages from his face.

  “Noah…”

  “I don’t know why I am so horrible.”

  He opened his eyes, tears freely flowing as he stared at the scars and bruises now exposed fully for him to see. His voice raised in volume, and had a noticeable hoarseness to it.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know!!!”

  Now sobbing, he grabbed a handful of the discarded bandages, placing them over his damaged body, frustrated tears soaking his face as the dressings refused to stay in place and mask his body.

  Swallowed the lump in my throat as I sank down beside him, pulling him into my arms. “It’s okay. It’s okay to not know.”

  “It’s not!” He hid his face in his hands, “I’ve always known. It’s wrong for me to not remember something!”

  “It’s okay, it really is.” I held him closer to me, hoping in some way I could help him. His skin was clammy and cold on my touch, and he shivered and jolted with his cries. The way his shoulders trembled like he was a leaf barely clinging to a tree… it sticks in my mind.

  After that, I got him back into bed, and called Terra to come in and assess the damage he had done to himself when he pulled off the bandages.

  The supervising doctor was not pleased, and made mention of using more sedatives on him. Protested this, rather vehemently, and probably put the doctor out rather a lot.

  Dunno, don’t want his mind to be influenced by anything; not when he reacts to his loss of memory like that. His memories seem to be his most precious things.

  Would be neglecting my position of guardian angel if I allowed him to lose possession of any more of his memories. They’re important.

  Again, I stayed with him for as long as I could. He looks so alone in that room; don’t want to leave his side.

  A thought also occurred to me today. When he gets released… where will he go?

  Initially, figured that he’d just come home with me and Terra; it was just a natural thought. But then… hmm.

  Most people seem to believe that cock-and-bull story about the intruders. So would the hospital release him to his father? Maybe I could say that it’s obviously not safe for him there, and he needs outpatient care anyway, so he should come with us.

  I’ll have to choose my words carefully.

  Again, my search for the perfect words.

  They will be mine one day. Those words. My search will never end until I possess them.

  Need to give them to him.

  73 Days, 16 December, Tuesday

  For most of today, I sat silently in class, numbly taking in the surroundings. A couple of the nicer girls in class asked me where Noah was, which was kind of odd.

  “He’s in the hospital.” I replied, figuring they’d probably say he deserved it or something.

  “Oh no!” The brunette one, Julia, exclaimed, “What happened? Is he okay?”

  This was not a reaction I was anticipating. “Er… he-”

  “It was a break-in, I heard.” The other one cut in, I think her name is Ariel, “And he tried to stop them from hurting his sister! He’s so brave!”

  “Really?” Julia seemed impressed, and then turned to me, “You see him a lot, right? Can you send him our best wishes? We want him to get better!”

  “Ah- yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” I smiled at them, in spite of the rushing thoughts meandering through my mind.

  “Great! Let us know how he is tomorrow, okay?”

  “Y-yeah…”

  It was a weird occurrence. I’m happy about it, don’t get me wrong, but the idea of people actually being worried about him, caring for him, was extraordinary.

  I’m conflicted about this lie/story now more than ever.

  Is it better for him to be considered a hero, protecting his home and family, someone to be admired…

  Or is it better for the real truth to come out? To have people know about the years of abuse and pain he’s endured, along with the
stigma of being alienated by his curse…

  Can’t decide which is the better option. To offer a lie of omission and finally be accepted by people, or to tell the truth and risk being a (freak, curse, taboo)?

  People would say he’s lying. His father is too influential. Noah’s word against his father’s would be something akin to trying to cut a tree down with a feather.

  But…

  What if people’s opinions have changed enough because of the lie that they’ll finally believe the truth?

  It seems like backwards thinking, but maybe…

  Can wish if I want to.

  Noah seemed more… well today. He was alert, and seemed much less sad. He still looked disdainfully at the new bandages covering his arms, and regularly picked at the ones on his face, but made no mention of them.

  “So…” I began, noticing he turned his attention from the picture of a vase to me. “A couple girls from the school wanted to send their best wishes for you to get better soon. You know, Julia and Ariel, those two girls from Math.”

  Blankly, he surveyed me, and I looked right back at him, at a loss for anything else to say.

  “They… they weren’t lying, were they?”

  “No, I don’t reckon so. They seemed pretty genuine. They believed that story about the intruders in your house though.”

  “And you don’t believe it, I take it?”

  “Well, no. I think your father just made it up.”

  “I don’t know the man who attacked me though.”

  “What do you remember from it?”

  “Mostly the fear.” He looked pointedly out the window, avoiding my gaze. “It was night, I remember the windows were all dark, and there were candles lit. As soon as I entered my home the attack started. I ran away, stairs… I remember the man’s face in my mind… but not who he was. He told me-” He cinched his eyebrows together, “-that I was a freak, a defect… and that I-” he swallowed, his one visible cheek burning pink, “-I was going back to that place.”

  “What place?”

  Silence. He didn’t talk again for the rest of the evening. He did give me a hug goodbye though, and I saw him cover his face with his hand as I closed the door.