featherlight ✅

smile again

"All of my friends say I should move on
She's just another girl, don't let her stick it to your heart so hard
And of all my friends say it wasn't meant to be
And it's a great big world, she's just another girl"

Stepping into the hospital is at once all-familiar and completely alien. I've watched enough TV shows to recognize the masses of people- people smiling and talking and crying. Tears of happiness and tears of grief. This is a place where lives enter the world and others depart it. It smells of disinfectant and I'm reminded of the time I broke my leg cycling down a hill when I was six and my dad drove me over to the hospital. 

I bend down and touch my calf, briefly, as though there is still a cast around my leg. A receptionist looks up at me as I enter the lobby and approach her. Visitor Information, the sign above the desk reads. 

"What would you like help with, young man?" She's all smiles. 

"I was wondering if I could visit someone who's in the hospital."

She taps away at the keyboard in front of her. Her nails are painted a pale purple and they click against the keys. "What's their name?" she asks. 

"Katherine. Katherine Greene." Even saying her name is painful, but I want to say it over and over even if it cuts me open and makes me bleed: Katherine Katherine Katherine.

The lady types in Kat's name and looks at the screen through her black-rimmed glasses. "Katherine Greene, did you say?"

"Yeah. She was hospitalised here a day ago because she overdosed on diet pills."

"Are you immediate family?" I shake my head and she sighs. "I'm so sorry-" she pauses and looks questioningly at me. 

"Ashton McCoy," I say, my heart already sinking. 

I know what's coming next, so it doesn't surprise me when she says, "I'm sorry, Ashton. She's only allowed to see her immediate family right now. Maybe come back in a few days and check again?"

"Please," I say, looking beseechingly at her. "Please can I go in? I just want to talk. I won't be long. I need to leave soon to go to baseball training anyway. Only a few minutes." 

"I'm sorry, Ashton, but rules are rules."

I look at her, pleadingly, but all she does is apologize again. There is a man behind me who gives me an impatient glance as I walk away from the receptionist. I hear part of the conversation as I leave: Hi, I'd like to visit my daughter who just gave birth, which floor will she be on?  

And I know he'll be allowed to see her. 

A week later, I'm sitting on an Ikea beanbag in Steve's basement eating a bag of quinoa chips. Steve's mom loves watching those how to be healthy videos on YouTube, so Steve often has to spend months drinking almond milk or eating coconut yogurt and couscous. And quinoa chips. 

My mind wanders to where it always does these days, like how a man will find his feet leading him back to his old home time and time again. Even if it burned down a long time ago. Her parents have said that she's better now, regaining the weight she lost, but it's best if people don't visit her yet. Polly handed Kat's mom the card a few days ago, and I know how obvious it will be that I didn't sign it. I should've written my name on it at the very least. 

Why do I keep making all these stupid mistakes? I wish I could erase everything I've done wrong and write my whole life over again. 

I realize that somebody's asked me a question when I look up from my quinoa-chip covered fingers and my friends are all looking expectantly at me. 

I smile at them. "Sorry, I zoned out for a minute. What did you guys say?"

Steve raises his eyebrows and leans forward, his green eyes boring into mine. "A minute? God, Ashton, I think you're zoned out all the time now. When was the last time you were properly focused?" The concern in his voice takes away the harshness of his words.

I think back to my coach yelling at me yesterday afternoon for not concentrating properly during the training session and flinch. "I have no idea."

"She hurt you real bad, didn't she?" Kyle says quietly.

"That doesn't matter. What did you guys ask me before when I'd zoned out?"

"Bullshit. It clearly matters, Curly," Mat mutters. "And it's not your fault, whatever happened."

"It doesn't matter," I repeat, louder, crushing a fragment of a chip between my fingers. "I'm not the one in hospital right now. I'm not the one who's probably hooked up to drips and lying in bed. I'm not- "

"You ever gonna smile again, Curly?" Chase says. His voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it is enough to cut me off. 

I look at him, stunned. Then I let out a long breath. It comes out staggered, as though it's marked with staccato signs. I take another chip out of the bag, subconsciously, and crumble it as I speak. "Just tell me what you guys were talking about." It sounds almost like a plea.

"The English assignment," Kyle says. "Which is not important. Because you've been missing way too much school this week to go to the hospital even though you fucking know that you're not allowed see her yet. I would say that's kinda important."

"Ditto," Chase says quietly, tapping his shoe against Kyle's calf. 

"I haven't skipped that many classes," I mumble. Mat turns down the volume of the music that he'd been playing from his phone and my voice immediately sounds too loud for the room. "And I didn't get in that much trouble for it."

"Because we've been explaining stuff to the teachers for you," Chase replies. "We've been telling the teachers of every class you've missed that you had to go see Katherine, and how upset you are about the whole thing. We've said that we're saving notes for you and you go over them each night and you're even doing some reading ahead so that you don't fall behind."

"Oh." I look at my Converse and rub my nose. "I didn't know that."

"So have you been reading ahead and going over our notes?" Kyle asks. 

"No-" I look at their faces and feel remorse fill my veins. "But I will. I promise."

A long silence permeates the room. 

Mat turns the volume of the music back up after a while and fiddles with a Rubik's cube that he finds behind the cushion of his armchair. The silence seems to dissipate: Chase rummages through Steve's board game collection, finds a chess set, and sits down opposite Kyle. I watch them play; Kyle imitates Ron's voice every now and again from the wizard's chess scene in the first Harry Potter film. 

"Castle to E4," he says, poking his piece. "Why don't these idiots move, huh?"

Chase reaches across the table and musses up Kyle's hair. "Concentrate on the game, my boy. You're losing."

"Don't touch my fucking hair, Collins." 

In reply, Chase pushes down a chunk of Kyle's hair so it covers his eyes, and Kyle lets out a sound like a cat that's been stepped on. 

Steve looks at me after a while. "You just wasted a few good quality chips, Curly," he says. 

I look down at the floor and see a small pile of crumbs from where I've been absent-mindedly crushing the chips in my hands. "Shit. I'm so sorry. I'll buy you a pack."

He snorts. "If you're gonna buy me a pack, Ashton, then for God's sake please buy me regular chips. I can't stand another pack of quinoa." He gets up from the carpet he was sitting on. "I'll go get a broom and sweep it up." I begin standing up, but he points a finger at me. "You stay here. And don't make any more of a mess." 

Kyle glances at the crumbs as Steve leaves and grins. "What a waste. Should I eat those?"

Chase raises an eyebrow as he kills one of Kyle's knights. "And what are you, Rivera, a vacuum cleaner?"