Living in Non-Existence

Ch.9 "smile"

I should have know that as soon as things were going well that everything would go completely wrong. That when the clouds took over, the sun would be virtually obliterated from the sky and my life. Maybe it was a sort of karma for me trying to start over.

That's, at least, what I was thinking to myself as the mascara streamed down my face and my whole entire body rocked itself in the hospital's chair. My slim ringed fingers shook as they covered my sobbing mouth.

My face was probably smeared with black makeup that had taken so long to put on. The hair I had so carefully curled was matted and standing up at odd ends, mixed with my salty tears. My dress, a long knee-length green, hugged closer to my body.

Everything about that night should have been perfect, should have been right. But it was so horribly, horrendously, treacherously wrong.

I jumped to my feet as I saw Marc's family walk in. I had met them numerous times, I was at his house more than my own so we had grown close in this last month.

"Toni," his mom practically screamed as she saw me. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she came toward me to hug me tight. The woman was thin but man, could she hug. "Sweetie, have you been here the whole time?" She smiles sadly, a mere stretch of the lips. I nodded my head, if I tried to talk my voice would crack horribly, not that I could anyway with the way my mouth was shaking from the sobs.

Gina Collins, Marc's mom, handed me a dark high school soccer sweater she had in her hands. A random insignia with a shark or dolphin printed on it clearly. "Here, I thought you would need this, sweetheart," she smiled sadly. Her slim motherly hands ran through my hair soothingly before leading me to a chair again.

The worry in her eyes and the age underneath her youth made me suddenly aware of the cruel mortality we are faced with every day.

No amount of makeup or tight clothing could hide the true reality of age.

My eyes looked at the strong woman next to me. Her hands had raised two boys and one girl. Her eyes had seen every fall and taken every picture. Her body had born a family that was loosely straining.

"Mrs. Collins, where's your husband," I asked. I knew he would never let his wife go somewhere this important alone, especially if it was involving his son.

Gina wiped a tear from her cheek, "he just went to speak or find the doctor." She held my hand, patting it lightly.

The dark sweater smelled too much like Marc, a healthy and alive Marc. I cringed at the memories of his injuries. Blood. So much red blood pouring out of him.

The doctor came in to the waiting room followed by Anthony Collins, Marc's dad. The contrast between the two surprised me to the point of breathlessness. Anthony looked exactly like an older version of Marc, in his sweatpants and baggy sweater, his hair a curly mess on his head.

The doctor looked absolutely calm, perhaps a little worried because he had to deliver news to families constantly.

"Marc Collins?" The doctor called out. Mrs. Collins and I immediately stood up rushing over. My green dress swaying softly against my legs. "The first thing I have to say is that Marc is okay and he will be," he paused momentarily as all three of us clung to each other, gobbling up every word coming out of his mouth. "We had a small surgery to remove the bullet and he is stable, luckily it didn't hit any arteries which is surprising."

The doctor seemed as though he was going to continue but Marc's mother interrupted, "can we see him?" The doctor nodded, "he's sleeping, resting off the medication and all but yes, you can go in for as long as you need," he smiled patting me softly on the shoulder. "You were brave to stay in the ambulance and here the whole time."