When I'm Gone

The room is white—plain white; splashed only with a yellow biohazard bin. And it stinks. My nose is assaulted by sterilized medical equipment and hand sanitizer. The distant squeak of shoes on freshly polished floors is barely audible over the simulated beats of my heart. Small clear tubes extend from a hanging plastic bag down to the floor, curl back up the side of my bed, and enter my protruding blue vein. It is dark; too many objects are crammed into the small room casting unwelcome shadows over the white walls and over me. I am the largest thing in the room yet am helplessly confined to this bed.

I have Evelyn though; she sits on my bed beside my hip. A small shrivelled hand lies gingerly across mine where the tubes disappear under my skin. She is watching my face; her hooded blue eyes dart quickly in their sockets to examine every inch of me.

“I’m fine Evelyn, please stop worrying.” I place my hand on top of hers and squeeze it reassuringly. Her eyes lock mine and she presses her thin lips into a hard line. Slumped shoulders rise and fall more slowly. These are the tell-tale signs of her self-therapy—she is concentrating. I reach my hand toward her face and try to hide the earthquake shakes that seem to have possessed me. I trace the length of her cheek with the back of my fingers and her body immediately responds: Her head tilts pressing slightly into my fingers, her eyes droop sleepily, and her lips part.

“Are you scared George?” She mumbles with her eyes still closed. I pause for a moment to think.

“No.” Death is not what I fear, “Are you?” Her head shifts repeatedly from left to right; it looks as though she is having an internal argument.

“No” She was never good at lying. A single tear falls down her face and I know that it is the first of many. She quickly swipes it away and tries to remain composed. I know that she is trying to be strong for me, she doesn’t like me to see her so vulnerable, but I am scared for her. There is no family for her, and no friends. When I’m gone she will be alone.

She was the elusive blue eyed mystery of my desires. I was just another solider lucky enough to return home in one piece. The town was full of men like me, yet for some unknown reason, even after I had made a complete fool of myself, she had agreed to go out with me. She always wanted a family, she was passionate about it, the way a writer is passionate for books or a painter for art. I wasn’t very committed to the idea but the more she talked about it, the more swayed I became. The way her eyes would light up, and the toothy smile that would spread across her face—it was contagious. I loved seeing her like that, so full of life and love, excited about the future, she rarely got that way about things. It was the only time I ever saw that toothy smile.

The day came when we thought these dreams would become a reality, but instead they slipped through our fingers. Red vines branched from the dark pool where she sat. Her knees were tucked tightly under her chin and held in place by pale arms. She shook silently and stared blankly with bloodshot eyes.  Our unborn child left us that night, and took our dreams for a family with it. The illuminated spark behind her eyes disappeared and I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to find it. I used to see my reflection in her eyes, it was like gazing into a still pond, but now they are dark and hazy, like the deepest ocean water on a stormy night. Even when she smiles, the light does not return to her eyes.

I’ve been in and out of this hospital so many times now, but each time I have managed to get better for her; I can’t leave her, not like this. I lock my eyes on her face and examine every

millimeter of it. Who will take of her when I’m gone? The thought that has been haunting me returns once again. No one my subconscious whispers, there is no one; no friends, no family-no one. Not anyone that could take care of her like I did. I know that I am running out of time, and I can’t fight it anymore. I have no choice.

The mechanical simulation of my heart beat suddenly slows. I feel fine, but this cold calculated piece of machinery knows better than I. It is not so easily deceived by the strength in my voice and the slight smile on my lips. This machine—the traitor—has alerted Evelyn to my deception, and she begins to cry. Her own disguise fades away and the pain from her heart overflows spilling out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Evelyn” Her brows pull down over watery eyes. “For what?”

“For leaving you.” I reach up and stroke her cheek with the back of my fingers.

“Don’t be sorry. You have given me everything George, and I know that if it were up to you that you would choose to stay with me.”

“But I haven’t given you everything.”

“What else could you possibly give me? You have already given me your love and your life.”

“A family.” I mumble. Her face drops and she pretends to examine our still intertwined hands. She doesn’t look up when she speaks next.

“You are my family, and you are all I ever needed.” I pull up on her chin so I can see her face.

“I love you, Evelyn.”

“I love you too George” she whispers and presses her lips together once again. A single tear escapes from her hooded blue eye but is quickly swiped away. I’ve never said goodbye to her, I’ve never needed to. She leans down and presses her lips softly to mine. I take a deep breath and gaze into her eyes—I will miss those eyes. I slowly exhale and the room becomes blurry, the moments of my life blend into one final fading image of Evelyn, her eyes a clear illuminated blue.

Nicole Blain is a first year Kinesiology student, and this is her first publication.