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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/885495-The-Clock-Ticks-By
Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #885495
How points in time are measured only by the ticking of a clock.
Tick tock, tick tock, goes the clock on the wall. But to Valerie, the sound of the second hand is deafening. She sits defeatedly in a Hospital waiting room. Waiting. And waiting.

'Ms. Tralis,' says a crisp nurse.

Valerie stands and follows after the nurse. Valerie is led down hallway after hallway until she is stopped at an office. The nurse opens the door and Valerie steps into the almost stiflingly homey office. The doctor behind the desk looks up, and gestures for her to take a seat. Valerie collapses into the chair and looks the doctor in the eye expectantly.

'You are Ms. Tralis?' the doctor asks.
'Valerie,' she says.
'I am Dr. Lile, but, please, call me Jake.' The doctor tries lightening the mood, to no avail. He sighs. 'You're fiancé is stable, for the time being.'

Valerie starts crying for the first time since seeing her fiancé so mangled. The doctor sits biting his lip until she maintains control once more.

'Valerie,' he says, 'we're not sure if he'll last much longer.'
'Can I see him?' she croaks.

The doctor nods and stands. Valerie follows suit and shuffles after him out the door.

'He hasn't regained consciousness.' The doctor tries warning her. 'We're not sure if he will. Or if, and when, he does, we don't know how comprehensive he'll be.'

Valerie doesn't reply, just keeps walking. She follows the doctor through the swinging doors into the ICU. They stop in front of a coldly steel door with a clipboard labeling it as Matthew Johansen's room. The doctor pauses.

'I feel I must warn you.' He hesitates, 'the only part of him not damaged was his face.'
'I know,' Valerie whispered, 'I saw the truck slam into him. I ran to him in the street. I called the ambulance. I know.'

The doctor grimaces then pushes open the door. Valerie draws a deep breathe and walks in. The first thing to hit her is the massive amount of machinery in the room. She sees him lying there, and bites her lip as she walks over to the chair by his bed.

'Matt,' she whispers to the still body, and crying, holds his bruised hand to her face.

As she recovers herself, she looks down at her own hands. She remembers the blood. Her hands had been covered in the crimson substance. She looks at him. The blood had been cleaned off, or bandaged over. Most of his body is in a cast. But he was breathing on his own, which had given the doctors their only grasp of hope for the young man.

Valerie gazes at the broken body she loves. She gnaws her knuckles for a second the delves into her purse. Her hands instinctively reach for her pad and pencil.

'I love you Matt,' she says, and leans over to kiss his cheek.

She begins to sketch. In her mind flow images of happier times, but she draws him as he is. For she know, she won't ever be able to forget, and if she draws it, she hopes it will take away some of the pain.

The steady beep and hum of the machines lull Valerie into a trance and all she becomes aware of is the image she is drawing. The feel of the pencil on paper, it felt so right. She couldn't remember why she had put it aside.

Valerie is startled out of her trance by a slight movement on the bed. She looks up and sees Matt staring at her. She smiles.

'Hi,' she whispers, he smiles. 'Do you remember what happened?'
'Yes,' he croaks, 'but the sound of you drawing again would bring me back from even the highest peak of heaven.'

Valerie gnaws on her lip trying to control the flood of tears threaten to break their hold.

'Are you in pain?' she asks.
'No,' he smiles. 'Can't feel much of anything.'
'I have new.' Valerie takes his hand.
'I remember,' he says, 'you'd told me as much.'
'I'm pregnant.' She smiles, lightly squeezing his hand.

Matt closes his eyes and smiles. Valerie watches him and knows he will soon slip back into unconsciousness.

'I love you,' she whispers in his ear, as the tears start coming.

Matt squeezes her hand, and falls back to unconsciousness. Valerie picks up her pencil and pad and finishes drawing as she watches his spirit fade faster and faster. She cries as she works.

When she finishes, she takes his hand and watches as the last bit of his spirit leaves. She bends over his body and weeps, as his heart monitor registers that he is dying, and attendants begin flooding in..

She feels herself pulled off of him. A nurse hands her the pad and pencil, and her purse, then shoves her out.
~

Valerie stands, numb, her hand on her stomach, and falls.
~

Matt comes rushing to her rescue, speeding her over to the hospital. The doctors take over from there.
~

Tick tock, tick tock, goes the clock on the wall. But to Matt the sound is deafening. He'd known Valerie had been having troubles recently. The pregnancy was hard on her. But they'd seen doctors and had been assured all was fine.

'Mr. Johanes.' A crisp nurse says.

Matt stands and follows after the nurse. Halfway down the hallway, they are stopped by a doctor.

'I'll take over from here,' he tells the nurse. 'How are you Matthew?'
'Not too good right now Jake,' he says. 'Can you…Can you just take me to my wife?'

Dr. Lile nods and leads Matt down the same route as he had Valerie a little under a year ago. Last time, it had been Matt who was barely clinging to life. He still found it a miracle, this young man walking behind. How is it that he could go from seconds before death to a full recovery in a matter of weeks. But for Valerie, he feared a miracle would not be in order.

Dr. Lile opened the same steely door for Matt to walk through. Matt flew to Valerie's side, ignoring the massive amounts of machines in the room. She was still breathing on her own, though, but just barely. He took her hand and held it to his face, refusing to let her go. Valerie's eyes fluttered open and she shook her head sadly.

'Her name is Jessica, and she's beautiful.' She whispered. 'Take care of her.'

Matt kissed her face and she closed her eyes. He watched as all the pain and worry eased off her face. Matt let the tears flow as he placed her hand gently onto her stomach, ignoring the rush of attendants starting to fly into the room. Even the attendants, as they rushed into the room in response to the machines' call to arms, they knew. This time, there would be no rescue.
~

I never knew my mother. But I have always loved her, this woman who brought me into this world. From the day I was born, my father praised her. The drawing of him in the hospital-she finished it a week before she died-it hangs in my living room. For, though some may think it is depressing, I see in it the love between my parents. My mother saw, even in his mangled state, the man she loved, and drew that into the portrait.

I have a daughter of my own now, named after my mother, Valerie. I love my family, my daughter, my husband, my father and my mother. But I always knew my father lost a part of himself when she died. Which is why, even though I have lost him, I am happy. Now he is with her, and I can only hope for such a bond of love in my lifetime.

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