In Perspective by Jaded Fae
Short Story by Jaded Fae
A little bit of corn, not my best work, but it's all good! I wrote this like...a year...two years ago? I'm not sure, I just wanted to post this shiznit!

Review!!!

In Perspective

My hands twisted the bottom of my shirt in a manner I thought I had long dropped. I could feel the material thinning in my hands as I stretched it in a vicious fashion. The stale smell of the hospital offered no comfort on my part, but instead made me more nervous. My fingers twitched.

The uncomfortable bucket seats were worse. After not moving for three hours, my bottom was numb and my back ached. The throbbing in my head increased as next to me Nick's foot tapped the floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He switched legs and started tapping more furiously. I could almost see the tiled floor grimace in pain each time his foot hit it.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

On the other side of me, Howie was mindlessly flipping through one of the outdated magazines the hospital provided. I couldn't help but wonder how many people had flipped aimlessly through that same magazine. Albeit to keep them distracted or to keep them from facing reality. Maybe they hid their faces into these magazines and cried silently when a doctor told them that their loved one had just died--griping the pages until their fingers turned white and the edges of papers crumpled over. Or perhaps the crinkles are from a man clenching it joyfully after the discovery that he was now the proud grandfather of a baby girl. Or maybe the wrinkles were from rolling the magazine up and squashing a fly.

Or perhaps, the wrinkles occurred after someone was just told that one of their best friends was in a coma from a car accident with an eighteen-wheeler.

Perhaps there was no significance. Perhaps I was just trying to keep my mind off of why I was there in the first place.

Next to Howie was Brian. He had one of his legs up on the chair; his fingers toying with the ripped fringes of his worn jeans and next to him was Kristin.

Asleep, she looked peaceful, her head laying on the shoulder of her husband's cousin, Nick's jacket strewn across her body. Her hair looked as though she had been running her fingers through it all day and her cheeks were puffy from tears.

Yet somehow--she still looked peaceful.

I figured that in her dreams, she and Kevin were happy and safe. His car was in once piece and he was far away from the highway. Maybe in her dreams, him being in a coma didn't exist. Instead she lived with her love in a nice suburban home with a white picket fence, a dog, and a swimming pool. In her dreams she didn't have to see the faces of our fans when they gathered around the totaled car and realized that the limp body inside was Kevin Richardson. Maybe he wasn't even famous. Because if he wasn't famous, he wouldn't have been on the highway in the first place. He wouldn't have needed to go to a stupid teen magazine interview. Instead he would be in their perfect home; cooking at their perfect grill; petting their perfect dog; and picking out names for the child they planned to have someday.

But what was maybe? It was a word I had grown to despise in the past three hours. Maybe meant nothing but false promises. It was right up there with 'if' and 'Perhaps.'

Perhaps what? If only what? Maybe what? Maybe if we weren't famous... Perhaps if it weren't raining... If only he drove a little slower?

I could hear Brian begin to pray. Next to me, Nick's head lifted and he stared at the Kentuckian. Recently, the two had not been getting along. Often there were fights and snide, nasty remarks about the other. However they still shared a secret bond that would never be broken between them. Brian's eyes turned towards Nick and in a silent exchange of words, Nick nodded and began to pray aloud also.

Howie, who seemed to have long ago giving up on the magazine joined in. Under my breath, I too began my prayers. We each said different words, but they held the same meaning–Let Kevin live.

The secretary--the only other person in the room aside from us--barely looked up. It seemed outbursts of prayer were common.

There was a ripple of 'Amens' as we finished and it was quiet once again.

I picked up the same magazine that Howie had looked at and started to flip through it, hoping to occupy my mind. Toward the middle there was an article on men's health. One of the pictures showed a father with his son on his shoulders.

I had never had a real father. Just a man who used to live with my mother and I. That's how I thought of him now. He wasn't my dad, he was just a passer by–no one important. When he abandoned my mother and I, I was barely fazed by it. He was never really there in the first place.

I knew I grew up a messed up child–despite my mom's intentions of raising me well. There were many things she got right but...she was only a mother. What I needed was a father to talk to me about growing up as a male.

When I was fifteen and met Kevin I resented him at first. He set rules down for us and was hard on me; he was trying to calm my wild instinctive urges. When he learned about my father though, he backed off.

I remembered that there was a two month period in which I wasn't reprimanded for anything. Though Kevin finally sat me down and spoke with me.

It was in Nebraska, after we had finished a high school concert and were walking around. We sat at one of the outside benches in the back of the school. It was spring and the air was comfortable. Flowers had just begun to sprout through the soil; the last snow had melted.

We were quiet for several moments. Then Kevin sighed and spoke.

"You know...Nick's parents did a pretty good job with him. At least on the side of manners. But his attention cravings shows that they weren't ever really there. That's their fault–leaving their child to care for younger siblings at what? Nine years old he started? He grew up in a sense of serious responsibility, but never fully aged since nine. But at least he had a father to explain things."

"What are you getting at, Richardson?" My face was twisted in confusion. We all knew how screwed up Nick's childhood was, why was he explaining it to me?

"You see, Alex..." He paused, "Rules were laid down for Nick and he followed them. One set from his mother, one from his father. Each set different, but important to the development of a young man. You however... are missing one set." I bit my lip forcing myself not to respond. "It isn't your fault that your father ran out on you. It isn't your mother's either, but that's not the case here, the case is that you lacked a paternal source of supervision."

I licked my lips, "Kev?"

He sighed, "Alex, you need supervision. I'm not just saying this to be mean and over bearing, I'm saying this as a friend. Let me help you. If you need advice, someone to talk to, I'm here for you. You know I'll always listen. If you have a question, or a complaint, come to me. You're fifteen–soon to be sixteen– and this is a hard time in your life. Let me help you through it. I may not be your father, but I can try to give you the things he should have."

From that moment on, I saw Kevin in a whole new light. He became a father figure to me. Guiding me through things and doing what he could. So when I got the call that he had been in an accident it hurt like it was my actual father. I guess I never really appreciated what he gave to me. And now I was on the brink of losing him.

My eyes watered over, blurring my vision. I felt Howie's hand on my shoulder. "He's going to be okay. I know it." Forcing a smile back at him, I covered his hand with my own.

And the hours passed.

It was nearly two in the morning before we heard anything.

The doctor came towards us in long strides. His black shoes tapping on the floor and the white medical coat flapping behind him. His face was expressionless–as if he wore a mask. It was like he was hiding his emotions behind a stethoscope.

"Are you here for Mr. Richardson?" My breath caught in my throat. This was it. In the next few moments I could lose the only father I had ever known. My hands gripped Howie's and Nick's. I felt their blood pulsing through their veins just as fast as mine. My heart leaped into my throat and I swallowed hard the lump in my throat.

'Please God! Please don't take him from me. He means too much, I never noticed how much until now but...Please! Let Kevin live! He's like my dad! The only dad that matters! Please Lord...'

The doctor put on one of his doctor smiles. A tiny smirk that formed at the corners of his mouth and seemed not to go anywhere else.

Howie spoke the words I wanted to, but couldn't. "Is he...is he alive?"

My hand tightened around Howie’s and Nick’s. Their knuckles were whitening with the pressure and I felt their fast heart beats along with my own.

The corners of the doctor's mouth lifted a little more. "He's going to be fine."

END


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