The Open Seat beside You

The Open Seat beside You

              He holds her hand now. As she rests in the bed provided for her, he is thinking of letting go for only a moment to use the bathroom. Seems harder than it should to just let go of a simple thing like a hand. Here they are, together as usual, she and he. If only it were under different circumstances. As he moves from her bedside he takes notice of all the electronics surrounding her, all the tubes and lines going to and from her being.

              The bathroom is tiny and typical enough for a hospital. He thought it only smart to get her into a private room. All the time he would spend here justified it plenty. Going to the sink je turns on the cold water, he hopes that the brisk sensation will wake him up; it is going to be a long night. Looking up from the stream of water from the faucet he meets his eyes in the mirror. The water leaves its after effect on the aged face. The water reflects the light where the skin has thinned and aged, where the wrinkles have set in, and brings more focus to the bags under his old eyes.

              Anthony Graves met her for the first time by circumstance, dumb luck, chance or what some may call fate. Sitting on the rustling subway train on his journey back to his apartment. Nothing running through his mind other than the music that played from his phone. The ear buds resting in his ears, he closed his eyes and drifted into the melodies.

              His daze was interrupted by a sudden poking on his cheek. Surprised he jumped, and opened his eyes in response.

              “Sorry to scare you, I was just curious if anyone was sitting in this seat.” She laughed as she said this and then pointed to the seat beside him. He couldn’t say anything at first being awe struck by the long red hair and the green eyes before him. She raised her eyebrow and gave him a look of confusion.

              “Y-Yeah it’s open,” he said, moving his bag from the seat beside him.

              “Thanks!”

              “Yeah, no problem.”

              The entire time that they both sat there, Anthony couldn’t help but catch as many glances of her as possible. Her hair was long and vibrant in color, with highlights of a lighter shade streaked throughout it. The random flicker of lights did not disrupt her milky skin. He started to feel sort of creepy, he was paying way too much attention to her, but could not help it. When the next stop came by and other got off, the gust blew across them both. He caught wind of her perfume, it was ever so light. It smelled of sweet tones and flowers. She wasn’t too much shorter than he, he stood six feet tall, and she maybe was a few inches smaller. You couldn’t tell most of the time due to his slouched posture. He sat there in wonder of who she was. Despite this he couldn’t muster up the gall to ask her. The train then came to a stop and he saw her rise up and get ready to go out to her stop.

              “Thanks again for the seat,” she said as she waved and left. Before he could say anything in return she was gone and the doors to the train closed shut. He stood and went to the door and saw her image disappear into the crowds of people that began to shift from the movement.

              The next few days he would take his usual route to and from work and home. These times, though, he kept an eye out for her. Each day nothing and he sulked slightly in his seat, he wished he could see her again and this time find out her name. The more he thought on it the more he wondered what he would say to her after knowing her name. His thoughts were then interrupted by a soft voice and a tapping on his head.

              The view from the mirror left its impression on him. The hair that was once a soft brown was now grayed and silvered throughout. He laughs at the sight of the old man looking back, strange what the years can do, eh? Wiping his face with the towel beside the sink he reaches for the door and sees her sleeping. The heart rate monitor still beeping at a usual pace.

              He decides that now is a good time to get some air, while she sleeps. He walks out of the room and back into the fluorescent lighted halls of the hospital. People moving up and down the hall; doctors, patients, nurses and orderlies alike.

              He goes on to the front doors and stands outside, snow on the ground and the light from the stars trying to break through the glow of the hospital building. The smell of rubbing alcohol and cleansers of the building exhales outward every time someone leaves or enters.  With every moment that passes in this cold he feels more and more heavy, knowing what is to come.

              Anthony’s brother passed away some years after meeting her. A long fight with cancer had finally ended and with it nothing good came along. Nights in bars and drinking more and more heavily lead to either a fight in the streets or a fight in the home. Curses and slurs slung every which way. Tears and hoarse voices prevailing till the midnight hours. She wanted nothing more than for his hurt to cease. He told her he wanted nothing more than for it all to end. She and Anthony wanted to see things differently.

              The night after the funeral, Anthony sat by himself on the couch she had bought for their first home together. He looked straight at the blank screen of the turned off TV. He wasn’t sure what to think. His eyes fell down to stare at the couch he sat on. There he felt his rage build. He hated the couch; the color, the felt, the collected hair from his and her, it was too much. It was with a large sigh that he stood up and flipped the couch over, cursing more than he ever thought he could.

              “God damn it! I hate this fucking couch! I hate it!” He yelled. It was with those curses that she came back into the room. Still dressed in the black gown she had bought, she begged for an explanation.

              “I am tired of this couch! I don’t know why we even bought it. I hated it and you knew it. Even when my brother came over all he could talk…” He stopped there, that night, mid-sentence, never saying another word. Instead he dropped down to his knees and rested his back against the wall beside the TV. He stretched his legs out and hung his head. She didn’t say a word, as mysterious as ever to him, that she never said a thing after that. Instead she sat beside him, put her hand on his nick and rubbed the tense area where the skull and spine met. She never left his side, she never let him fall too low.

              The cold is finally enough for him to handle. He wraps his arms under his pits and walks back through the automated doors. The light is like refreshment, a sudden shock to the sense that the luminous inflicted. The hallway isn’t as busy as he works his way back to her. Only stopping to by a drink from the vending machine.

              He returns to the room and sees her slumbering comfortably. He sits back in the chair beside her bed. He lies back and stares at her body lightly lifting with each breath. Her hair has now too become the same silver and grayed strands he carries. Even now he loves her more and more with each moment since he first saw her. A swelling in his chest makes him feel light again. Something only she seems to afflict in him. His trance intensifies when his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He sees the caller ID read: “Tyler”.

              The afternoon had been a long one for both Anthony and her. Many hours surrounded by doctors and now they were finally alone. Now with their son, after so much time he thought. Lying on the bed she held their child in her arms and he could do nothing but stare at the scene before him. The sun setting in the distance shone its last lights through the cracks in the blinds. Reflecting orange warmth in her eyes. He lost himself in them then, like he always had. Drowned in a sea of colors afloat by her arms.

              “Have any name ideas yet?” She laughed.

              “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

              “Well we should give him a strong name. He’ll benefit from it.”

              “How do you figure?”

              “That way he won’t have a silly nickname in school.”

              “A SILLY nickname? You can make any name sound silly!” He smiled at her. Poking fun at her even then. She just looked at him with a look that said it all: ‘Oh don’t you start!’

              “Well what do YOU have in mind?”

              “How about after my grandfather?”

              “Joseph? C’mon now, how many Josephs are out their anyway?”

              “I like it.”

              “Well you like week old pizza, so I pick the name.”

              “Fair enough… “They both laughed loud enough to hush at the sound of a stirring babe.

              “I say… Tyler.”

              “Where did you get that one?”

              “From my favorite movie: Fight Club.” Anthony couldn’t believe how serious she was. “This way you get your boring name and I get a kick ass movie reference.”

              “Tyler Joseph then?” He proposed.

              “I like it.”

              “Hello?” He answers to his son’s call. They have arrived at the hotel and are fully checked in. His sister has also gotten a room so that they are in close contact. Carpooling is an option for tomorrow. It isn’t too far from the hospital and the grandkids can enjoy an indoor pool to tide them during the trip.

              “That’s good. Well she’s asleep still but if she wakes tonight, I’ll let her know you all got settled.” The grandkids haven’t seen her yet. There is always tomorrow.

              “I love you too, son. Give the kids some hugs.” He assures them they will all enjoy some of the subpar hospital food in the morning and wishes them a goodnight.

              After hanging up he returns to his warmed seat beside her. She is still breathing steadily. He hopes it is a good dream she is venturing through. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. He thinks of the song they dance to some time ago. The melody is slowly rocking him to sleep. He feels his heart move along to the beat and his soul flies alongside it. He is alongside her in body and spirit, dancing to Sinatra and Coldplay. She is smiling he is in his own form of heaven. His dream is interrupted by a familiar voice and a poking on his cheek.

              “Sleeping on the job again?” He opens his eyes to see her awake, looking out to him with warm eyes.

              “Only for a minute. Gotta get my beauty sleep, looking this good takes work even in the dreamscape.”

              “For shame!” She laughs at him, poking fun at him like she always does.

              “How are you feeling?”

              “Like that night in Jersey.”

              “That bad, eh? He smiles, feeling each wrinkle scrunching.

              “At least I won’t have any bruises all over my legs from tripping on the dance floor, like that night.”

              “Or me passing out on the couch.”

              “Well, see that is more of you sleeping on the job!”

              “You got me.” He smiles at her. She returns it in full.

              The next day comes and with it, nothing good. She is gone now. In the middle of the night she went off in a dream. Only this time it was without him. No longer the light movement of her being as she breathed. He sits there and stares at the empty bed where she lay, no more than a night ago. The nurse comes in and asks if he would like to see any of the family. Just the son and daughter will do.

              They enter, a man standing tall with dark brown hair, and a woman tall and thin like her mother, with the same red hair but his blue eyes. They come to him with tears in their eyes and sit beside their father, hand in hand to mourn together.

              The funeral is short and sweet, like how she would have wanted. Living life was an important matter to her. “Don’t become hung up on the trials that life would throw at you,” she would say. They all sit there beside the small, engraved plaque on the ground as she is buried in her urn. The sun is out. To him it is as though he knew that she is better off now. No anger this time, no resorting to crumbling, and no more wanting it all to end.

              When he returns to their home, it is not the same space. Something is lacking. He walks into the middle of the living room. He turns about and looks at every single corner. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s enough of a lack to make him tear.

              This night he is lying on the left side of the bed. The sheets are still tucked in on the right. This leaves him with little blankets to cover with, but he does not make a move to un-tuck them.

              The next day he goes over all the things in his home, more and more he counts what belonged to her. It seems as though everything here has some sort of tie back to her, in every little way. He stands there again; amongst the home they had built together, observing every little bit of a mural to her. ‘Where do I go now?’ he wonders. ‘What do I do?’ he then sits on the velvet of the couch he always hated.

              One year is passed and he is facing a new dilemma. Where did he put the oatmeal? The grandkids are here and breakfast cannot wait any longer. Hungry mouths need to be fed! They only get to visit every now and then.

             

              When they leave to return home, he closes the door behind him and faces again the house that has changed so much to him, but little in its actual appearance. The couch that he always hated is now gone and replaced with a new one. It is the only thing he could think of to rid of after her passing. Despite it being hers, he makes one sole attempt to move on. All her little cookie jars in every shape or character you can think of still in line up along the walls on the shelves he built. The creepy stuffed monkey doll she bought at the store when Tyler was born still sits in the rocking chair that belonged to his great grandmother. Their bedroom still remains the same color of lily purple, the windows still draped in large curtains. Their wedding photos still along the mantle. All of these things have stayed the same, but the couch is gone. He doesn’t know entirely why only it has left along with her, but he knows it may be best that one thing changes only.

              That night he goes to bed and still sleeps only on the left side, a pillow to fill the empty space beside him. It is no substitute he still thinks. He tears up only a little, but smiles to still be able to catch her scent in the sheets. Light it may be but the strongest sense that is tied to memory is scent, and this is a memory worth every ounce. He holds the pillow close to him and drifts to sleep.

              There he thinks of the life they shared and can feel it make him restless. His mind drifts to the good she left behind, the son and daughter that went on to start their families. A family that will still go on after they have. He feels the weight lift and mumbles in his sleep her name. How silly he thinks: A boy sitting on a stinking subway train looking for the girl who stole his sight. His dream continues on, even after a voice calls out to him.

              “Is this seat taken?”