Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Memories ❯ Chapter 1
[ A - All Readers ]
By: MidnightsKeeper 
Sometimes it takes the worst times in life to remember the things that matter the most.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.05.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 402 | Status: Completed
Sometimes it takes the worst times in life to remember the things that matter the most.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.05.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 402 | Status: Completed
The sunlight shone upon his face and bled red into his dreams. It was the wake-up call he anticipated every day. His consciousness swam as he entered that in-between state of dreaming and waking. It was a hazy state where everything felt fuzzy and warm and safe. He reached over to put an arm around his wife as he had done nearly every morning for the last forty-seven years, but he was alone and her side was cold from disuse.
Nathan had known the bed would be empty, just as it had been every day for the last six months. He had known, but in that in-between state of dreaming and waking he always hoped that perhaps the last five years really had been just a dream and Lois would be there beside him, probably awake already, but pretending to still be sleeping because he enjoyed being the one to wake her. Then she would say "Wonderful morning, love," because it was her joke that his mornings should be wonderful not just good, since he had the good luck of marrying her. She wasn't there, though, to let him know how lucky he was. She was never there anymore and it hurt every time.
In that in-between state it was easy to believe he could still smell the shampoo she liked to use coming from her hair laying on the pillow next to his, or that he could hear her breathing steadily next to him. That she was still able to make him laugh at the silliest of things and make him feel better when he had a lousy day. He could believe that she would still scold him for making mud tracks in the kitchen, then smile when he suprised her by mopping the entire floor without being asked to make up for it. He wished he could live in that time between dreaming and waking because then he could at least trick himself into believing that she was okay, and he was okay, and everything was okay because she was still beside him.
He consoled himself everyday by remembering that she hadn't died yet, that he still had her with him, but it was working less and less. It was getting harder every day to keep the depression at bay. Everyone was well aware that they wouldn't see their fiftieth wedding anniversary together and Nathan didn't try to fool himself. If he did it would only be harder in the end. Even though part of him wanted to keep her forever, another part knew that death was the only cure her illness offered.
It was a cruel illness, not only because it was killing her, but because it hurt him too. They couldn't spend their last days together reminiscing about the good times, or with visits from all their relatives and friends. It wasn't for a lack of friends and family, and he would be with her of course, but she was hardly herself anymore. She didn't remember any of the times or the friends. Soon she probably wouldn't even remember him. That hurt the most.
He realized he was depressing himself by lying in bed and brooding. For a moment he considered letting the depression take hold. What did it really matter? At least he wouldn't have to fight it anymore. But no, he wouldn't do that. Lois wouldn't have let it come to that and she would probably be giving him that "look" of hers if she knew he was thinking of giving up. She was nothing if not stubborn even now. She drove the nurses crazy with her willfulness and it made him smile to think that she could still put up a fight even if it was only with words.
He sat up and flipped off the covers. Even though it was summer, the floor seemed very cold to his bed-warm feet and he quickly stepped to a patch of sun-warmed floor. You got colder as well as older apparently. He crossed his arms and looked out the window. It was a beautiful day. It would have been a wonderful morning today.
The streets were still and serene. Most people were still in bed or enjoying breakfast and even the kids hadn't come out to play yet. He liked to see the kids playing because it reminded him of their own children. They had grown up long ago and had moved, though not very far, away. He would probably see them today when he went to visit Lois. They knew it was close to the end-time.
Across the street a husband walked out the door and turned to kiss his wife and children before making his way to the car. The wife held a baby in one arm and at her side a little girl smiled up at her daddy. It was the picture perfect family and Nathan wished he could go back to those times. he remembered having done the very same thing and was reminded of how his wife would sometimes whisper something into his ear that made him want to hurry home. He wondered what it must be like for Lois; to not have the simple luxury of being reminded, of remembering.
He dressed quickly and made a small breakfast of toast and coffee. He sat at the table and thought of how the day would go while he ate. He wouldn't leave for the nursing home for at least an hour, so he had some time to kill. It was a funny saying, having some time to kill. Why did it have to be killed? Why couldn't he save it and give it to his wife? Maybe they could use it to go back to when everything was normal and they still had years left instead of just weeks or days. Surely he could save enough to do that for her.
But no, it wouldn't happen because you can't save time and you can't cure an incurable disease and you can't get rid of that hollow feeling when you remember that so many of the things experienced by two are only remembered by one now. You can't stop hurting when you realize that your dearest memories are just that. They're yours because they only belong to you now. No sharing anymore. She won't remember the dates, or the first time he said he loved her, or the proposal, or the wedding, or the pregnancies, or the special times they shared. She won't remember their life.
Nathan got up and went out on the porch. He thought he might cry and he wanted to go somewhere that seemed less lonely. If he wasn't so alone maybe he could stop the tears. The porch would be better because he heard kids outside now and he could get his mind back in order if other people were around. It seemed less hopeless that way.
He sat down in a chair and looked at the empty one next to him. Lois should have been there. This time she wasn't getting the iced tea or double-checking that he had closed the kitchen window before she joined him to watch the summer thunderstorm. This time she was sleeping in a hospital bed seven miles away memory-less and alone. She might not remember that their wedding reception had been rained out and that she had only laughed when her mother scolded her for playing in the rain and in a wedding dress no less. She might not remember that she had threatened to maim him during the birth of their first child. She might not even remember that when she wished him a wonderful morning she often said hers was more wonderful, but she did remember that she loved him. She did still remember that.
He decided that he would leave now instead of later. He could wait for her to wake up. He could be there so she wouldn't have to be the one to wake up alone. Because he remembered that he loved her too and it was something they could remember together still. Even if it hurt that she had forgotten so much, he would remember that it wasn't by choice. He would remember for the both of them and that would be enough. Then when they met again he could remind her if she didn't remember already. He would tell their whole life story and everything would be good again. He only hoped that he remembered it all the right way. Ironically enough, she had always had the better memory.
Nathan had known the bed would be empty, just as it had been every day for the last six months. He had known, but in that in-between state of dreaming and waking he always hoped that perhaps the last five years really had been just a dream and Lois would be there beside him, probably awake already, but pretending to still be sleeping because he enjoyed being the one to wake her. Then she would say "Wonderful morning, love," because it was her joke that his mornings should be wonderful not just good, since he had the good luck of marrying her. She wasn't there, though, to let him know how lucky he was. She was never there anymore and it hurt every time.
In that in-between state it was easy to believe he could still smell the shampoo she liked to use coming from her hair laying on the pillow next to his, or that he could hear her breathing steadily next to him. That she was still able to make him laugh at the silliest of things and make him feel better when he had a lousy day. He could believe that she would still scold him for making mud tracks in the kitchen, then smile when he suprised her by mopping the entire floor without being asked to make up for it. He wished he could live in that time between dreaming and waking because then he could at least trick himself into believing that she was okay, and he was okay, and everything was okay because she was still beside him.
He consoled himself everyday by remembering that she hadn't died yet, that he still had her with him, but it was working less and less. It was getting harder every day to keep the depression at bay. Everyone was well aware that they wouldn't see their fiftieth wedding anniversary together and Nathan didn't try to fool himself. If he did it would only be harder in the end. Even though part of him wanted to keep her forever, another part knew that death was the only cure her illness offered.
It was a cruel illness, not only because it was killing her, but because it hurt him too. They couldn't spend their last days together reminiscing about the good times, or with visits from all their relatives and friends. It wasn't for a lack of friends and family, and he would be with her of course, but she was hardly herself anymore. She didn't remember any of the times or the friends. Soon she probably wouldn't even remember him. That hurt the most.
He realized he was depressing himself by lying in bed and brooding. For a moment he considered letting the depression take hold. What did it really matter? At least he wouldn't have to fight it anymore. But no, he wouldn't do that. Lois wouldn't have let it come to that and she would probably be giving him that "look" of hers if she knew he was thinking of giving up. She was nothing if not stubborn even now. She drove the nurses crazy with her willfulness and it made him smile to think that she could still put up a fight even if it was only with words.
He sat up and flipped off the covers. Even though it was summer, the floor seemed very cold to his bed-warm feet and he quickly stepped to a patch of sun-warmed floor. You got colder as well as older apparently. He crossed his arms and looked out the window. It was a beautiful day. It would have been a wonderful morning today.
The streets were still and serene. Most people were still in bed or enjoying breakfast and even the kids hadn't come out to play yet. He liked to see the kids playing because it reminded him of their own children. They had grown up long ago and had moved, though not very far, away. He would probably see them today when he went to visit Lois. They knew it was close to the end-time.
Across the street a husband walked out the door and turned to kiss his wife and children before making his way to the car. The wife held a baby in one arm and at her side a little girl smiled up at her daddy. It was the picture perfect family and Nathan wished he could go back to those times. he remembered having done the very same thing and was reminded of how his wife would sometimes whisper something into his ear that made him want to hurry home. He wondered what it must be like for Lois; to not have the simple luxury of being reminded, of remembering.
He dressed quickly and made a small breakfast of toast and coffee. He sat at the table and thought of how the day would go while he ate. He wouldn't leave for the nursing home for at least an hour, so he had some time to kill. It was a funny saying, having some time to kill. Why did it have to be killed? Why couldn't he save it and give it to his wife? Maybe they could use it to go back to when everything was normal and they still had years left instead of just weeks or days. Surely he could save enough to do that for her.
But no, it wouldn't happen because you can't save time and you can't cure an incurable disease and you can't get rid of that hollow feeling when you remember that so many of the things experienced by two are only remembered by one now. You can't stop hurting when you realize that your dearest memories are just that. They're yours because they only belong to you now. No sharing anymore. She won't remember the dates, or the first time he said he loved her, or the proposal, or the wedding, or the pregnancies, or the special times they shared. She won't remember their life.
Nathan got up and went out on the porch. He thought he might cry and he wanted to go somewhere that seemed less lonely. If he wasn't so alone maybe he could stop the tears. The porch would be better because he heard kids outside now and he could get his mind back in order if other people were around. It seemed less hopeless that way.
He sat down in a chair and looked at the empty one next to him. Lois should have been there. This time she wasn't getting the iced tea or double-checking that he had closed the kitchen window before she joined him to watch the summer thunderstorm. This time she was sleeping in a hospital bed seven miles away memory-less and alone. She might not remember that their wedding reception had been rained out and that she had only laughed when her mother scolded her for playing in the rain and in a wedding dress no less. She might not remember that she had threatened to maim him during the birth of their first child. She might not even remember that when she wished him a wonderful morning she often said hers was more wonderful, but she did remember that she loved him. She did still remember that.
He decided that he would leave now instead of later. He could wait for her to wake up. He could be there so she wouldn't have to be the one to wake up alone. Because he remembered that he loved her too and it was something they could remember together still. Even if it hurt that she had forgotten so much, he would remember that it wasn't by choice. He would remember for the both of them and that would be enough. Then when they met again he could remind her if she didn't remember already. He would tell their whole life story and everything would be good again. He only hoped that he remembered it all the right way. Ironically enough, she had always had the better memory.