The Soldier Next Door

What’s the Future? It’s a blank sheet of paper, and we draw lines on it, but sometimes our hand is held, and the lines we draw aren’t the lines we wanted.

That is life, isn’t it? Fate. Luck. Chance. A long series of what-if’s that lead from one moment to the next, time never pausing for you to catch your breath, to make sense of the cards that have been handed to you. And all you can do is play your cards and hope for the best because, in the end, it all comes back to those three basics. Fate. Luck. Chance.

But life is also a collection of moments, some good and some bad; they ultimately form the puzzle of your life. There is someone who has stood in the same dark place, that the very same puzzle as you. It’s okay not to be okay sometimes. Sometimes, it’s normal, healthy, and necessary to feel defeated, so you know what it’s like to rise up another time.

This, too, shall pass. This situation isn’t your final destination. Where there’s pain, there’s also love. Where there’s sorrow, there’s also hope. Where there’s darkness, there’s always light.

And as I stand here and let the tears well up in my eyes, I remind myself that it is okay to cry. It is okay to let the tears carry your emotions out of your system. Let darkness blot them out.

Yes, I am standing here with a heart that is broken, yet it does not mean that I am broken. The crack is there to let the light in to take away the darkness.

Now, after much protest from Ana, I found my way taking the long road home to the hospital where my mom and dad are currently being treated. It broke that heart to a million pieces to leave the woman behind that I love more than my own life itself.

Choices always seem to lead to a hard decision, I have yet to find out what has happened to Matty, but the Doctor has assured me, well after a good amount of threatening, that Ana will be okay. I firmly warned him that should anything happen while I am away, then it shall be his head on a plate, and I am not fucking joking.

This has turned out to be the worst two days of my life. If it were not for Gibbs here driving, I would have gone off my mind a long time ago. That is what makes me love this man so much; he will sacrifice anything in an instant. I am truly starting to think that I am a man that draws a string of bad luck.

But putting that aside, we have just arrived at the hospital now. I only but smile at Gibbs as I nod, “You are going to have to help this ass out of the car.”

He only but bursts out in laughter, “You are just being damn lazy. Try to do it yourself.”

Well, much to my own amusement, which is truly not the right attitude to have at present, I have one leg out of the car, gripping at the roof, I finally swing my ass out, and in no time at all, I am on both feet.

Gibbs only but smirk, “Told you that you could. Now, do you know where we are going?”

“No, I have not spoken to the Doctor again; he was busy the last time I called.”

So with absolute haste, we make our way towards the reception, where a fairly mean-looking woman guides us in the direction we should be going. Then as we reach the next reception in the ICU section, we are asked to wait for the Doctor.

Standing in this dreadful waiting room is torture beyond compare. Every moment that the clock ticks away is one more second that my mom and dad are torn away. My heart feels like it is ripped right open as the thoughts of this whole horrible situation keep slicing every bit of me open.

These four walls have become unbearable to stand between. And as I pace the floor from one direction to the other, my mind does not stop running in circles. It is a mind that cannot bear not knowing what is going on. It is near damn insufferable with only but questions looming over your head.

Every wink I take, I am reminded that there is nothing I can do. I must stand here in silent agony and wait. It is killing me slowly. What am I going to do? I know that I am supposed to be strong, but I am so tired of having to be strong. It seems that my life is riddled with tormented pain. I really do not know how much more of this I can take. Losing any of my family is not an option.

Everything in me wants to crumble, but then I think, I am a Marine; we do not falter. We remain strong above everything that is thrown in our path. But as soon as I close my eyes, in an instant, the tears come flooding down my cheeks.

Just as I am about to crash to the floor, Gibbs is there to catch me, “Ethan, come sit down.”

“No,” I protest. “Where is this fucking Doctor.”

“Can I get you coffee while we wait?”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Knowing that he is only trying to be helpful, I take a seat and nod towards him, “Thank you, that will be great.”

As Gibbs leaves, the Doctor walks into the room. He seems to look rather concerned, and I know that I am not about to like what he is going to tell me. With only but a half-smile, he reaches his hand to greet me, “Dr. Stephens.”

Not giving much thought to his novelties, I immediately interrupt him, “How are my parents?”

I watch as he hesitates for but a moment, then as he starts to speak, it feels as if I am in a completely different world. I watch his lips moving, but I do not register a single word that he is saying. “Your mother lost a lot of blood; she had internal bleeding, but we manage to stop it with a successful surgery.”

“Is she okay?”

“Apart from a severe wound in her abdomen, a broken arm, and several broken ribs, she is well on her way to recovery. You will be able to see her in a moment.”

Then I watch as he goes silent; I know he is waiting for me to ask the question. By the expression on his face, I see that there is a lot that he wishes he does not want to tell me. Do I dread what is about to come? I wish that none of my parents found themselves in this situation. I will merely die if he has to give me the worst news about my dad.

“How is my father?”

“He sustained a severe head injury.”

I stop him before he can say another single word, “What do you mean by severe? How severe?”

Just then, Gibbs enters the room with what a wish was rather a glass of whiskey; as he hands me the coffee, I nearly down half of it in an instant, then I turn to the Doctor once again, “How severe are you talking about?”

“Son, I am afraid that your father is in a coma.”

I drop the coffee cup to the floor, and the contents crash all over my feet. There is an incredible sting that shoots to every corner of my body. My legs start to give in underneath me, but Gibbs is there to catch me. I grab onto my chest; the air has grown thick, it feels as if I cannot breathe. The room has grown so small, and all I can hear is my screams that travel down the corridors.

As Gibbs helps me to sit down, I turn to the Doctor once again, “How long? How long is he going to be in this coma?”

“Son, I can not tell you that. It might be a day or even a couple of months.”

There is a fit of deep anger that starts boiling from deep in my core, and I immediately snap, “what do you fucking know? What can you tell me?”

“Sorry, there is nothing more I can tell you. But he is stable.”

My world crashes down like a meteorite that hits the surface with full force splitting my heart open. I did not think that when I came here, the news would have been this bad, perhaps, even maybe there was a part, for a short while that thought that my father would not have made it. But I had faith that both of them would be all right.

After composing myself, I look at the Doctor with what can only be described as a stare of death, “I want to see him.”

“Son, I can allow visitors just yet.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you can allow. I want to see my father.” Then I turn to Gibbs, “Will you go check if the old lady is okay?”

He only but squeezes my shoulder and heads off in the direction the Doctor points him. Then the Doctor leads me to the room where my dad is in. It is intimidation and foreboding. There is only one light above his head, with his bed being right in the center. He is hooked up to all these machines that make that same godawful beep. There are tubes coming from his mouth, but apart from all of this, with his eyes closed, he seems to be so peaceful.

As the Doctor turns around to leave the room, I pull a chair closer and sit by his side, “Fuck, old man. You better fight this.”

I lay my head against his chest; his heart is still beating strong, but is it the machine that is helping? Yet again, I realize that as long as that machine is beeping that his heart is still alive and that he is going nowhere.

And nowhere is where I am going until this old man opens his eyes; they will have to throw me out of the building to get me to leave his side.

Then I take my phone out of my pocket and send a quick message, “Boo, it does not look good.”