In Every Universe

1

Tragedy.

A singular word whose meaning you think you know but until it arrives at your doorstep will never understand.

Tonight as Bright drives mindlessly to Mount Providence Hospital, he feels nothing but an indescribable heaviness.

Tragedy followed Bright wherever and whenever he went.

It did not surprise him that it was once again knocking at his door, waiting for him to welcome it with open arms.

It did not surprise him that once again his life will be shattered and spat on and destroyed.

His very banal very boring life which he filled with boring and banal choices just for an ounce of peace - that was apparently for nothing.

This was his curse.

He had long accepted it.

He numbly enters the urgent care area, harsh fluorescent lights hurting his eyes.

He feels the gaze of orderlies and patients shift in his direction. It prickles a bit to command this much attention at such a bleak place but he is used to it.

Bright knows he is attractive. This isn't arrogance or vanity - just truth. Big, doe eyes contrasting with thick angry brows, a proud nose, a full heart shaped mouth atop shoulders that were broad and muscular. He could have graced magazines and red carpets if he so chose - but Bright did not want spotlight.

He wanted to disappear into his own quiet corner unbothered.

But life is mean and petty and it would not give the placid anonymity Bright craved.

He walks to the nurse's area where three busy nurses were checking charts and discussing vitals and shifts.

He raises his hand to gain attention and the oldest of the three approaches him. "Do you need a number?"

"I was called about an accident."

Immediately, the nurse's face changes. Pity and sadness etched in the fine lines of her face. Bright blinked. He didn't need pity. It was a wasted emotion on him.

The nurse motions for him to follow and he does.

They pass through corridors of people with bleak faces and red rimmed eyes. Mothers and sisters and lovers awaiting the fates of their loved ones. Bright averts his gaze, not wanting to absorb any more suffering.

Finally, they are outside the surgery suite. A doctor waiting just outside the heavy metal doors like the ferryman of River Styx, waiting for souls to deliver to the after life.

Bright takes a deep steadying breath. He knew what was waiting the moment he got the call.

This was pain he was prepared to endure.

He walks forward, wanting to get this over with.

"Doctor, he is the husband," the nurse says simply but her voice cracks, years of working in the triage has not made her immune to such misfortune.

The surgeon nods and begins to explain in calm words what has happened.

The words bleed into each other.

Accident...

Blood loss...

Immediate surgery...

Complications...

Finally, the words no one wants to hear but were frankly inevitable:

We did all that we could.

Bright closed his eyes bracing for the "but." Instead, what rings across the room is a raw sob - almost an animalistic wail of a deer broken beyond repair.

Bright's eyes fly open and his gaze turns to the person huddled on one of the plastic chairs lining the walls of the hospital floor. The person's pale skin and pale clothing blended into the space, making them almost invisible. But the now manic sobbing drew all the attention his way.

The nurse approaches the person, sits down and comforts them. The person leans into the nurse and continues sobbing.

The doctor's stoic facade breaks for a millisecond. "We did all that we could," he repeats. "But the patient has succumbed to their injuries. We offer our condolences."

Only silence follows the pronouncement.

The doctor continues. "You will be able to see the patients soon. We offer grief counseling and funeral services, you may approach Head Nurse Sarah for more details," he motions to the nurse currently with them. "Or our patient services director Nani Changkham at the 5th floor."

The doctor gives a slight bow and returns inside the suite as was protocol.

Funny isn't it? That death and sorrow had protocol, rules, schedules. As if human emotion could be controlled like a marketing project or a public event.

Bright stands there for a silent moment before deciding it was time to head home.

In that exact moment the once sobbing person disentangles themselves from the nurse and stands up.

Their eyes meet.

Bright recognized the misery in those eyes.

The waves of pain crashing relentlessly upon that person's heart so clear to see.

The pink rimmed nose, the dried tears on skin too pale and too dry. The cracked dehydrated lips, the disheveled hair and clothes.

Anyone can recognize a person half dead with grief.

But Bright recognized him beyond that.

And this was pain he could not handle.

Yes, his wife lay lifeless on a table right now. His wife of five years, his friend for ten - dead and gone. That was painful. Miserable. Tragic.

But this moment of recognition was cataclysmic.

Bright could feel his knees buckle. "You," he says, clutching his own chest.

The man looks at him alarmed. "Are you okay?"

How could it be? How could he be in front of him. Bright took so many precautions to avoid him. To avoid this. "Why are you here?," he demands as his vision blurred.

"Me? My brother was in the other car..."

"Get away from me Metawin!"

"It's not my brother's fault. The police said -" The person stops mid sentence. "How do you know my name?"

Tragedy.

A singular word whose meaning you think you know but until it arrives at your doorstep will never understand.

Bright's tears fall without warning. Fuck the universe. Fuck the gods. "Metawin," he says before he falls to the floor and the world goes black.

- - -

Author's Note

Yes I deleted Found In The Stars. It was going nowhere. And I think deep inside of me, this is really what I wanted to write. I don't like angst but I guess that's my headspace at the moment and this is what my characters want.

If I have time after work today I will finish and upload Chapter 2.

I am sorry if you followed Found In The Stars but I do hope you enjoy this story instead.

Happy Wednesday!