hospital beds {remington leith short story}

eight

I wake up to the smell of flowers, fluttering my eyelids open to unveil a truly beautiful scene. Multiple vases of flowers decorate the room. Tulips, sunflowers, roses, amaryllis, irises, carnations. I cannot keep up....the array of colors and scents is something truly beautiful. I almost do not notice the nurses and aides bustling around my room, but they notice me. I also recognize the lack of presence at my side, my dear is gone. 

"Uh...what's going on?" I peep up, grabbing the attention of a few of the women in my room.

"Your boyfriend is taking you out for a very fancy lunch." Francesca says, her Italian accent ringing thick in her voice. "He wanted dinnah' but feared you'd be too tired. Very nice man you have there."

"And the flowers?" I ask, sitting myself up. Normally, Remington would help me with the action, and his vacancy in the seemingly basic task causes pain to shoot through my lower back. 

"From him. Beautiful, I know." Francesca speaks, rushing to my side. "C'mon, darling! We've got to get you ready...it is already 11 o'clock!"

Francesca, two other nurses, and three aides help me to my feet, immediately dropping me into a wheelchair. My strength is not what it once was. My IV is transferred to my side, and I'm wheeled out of my room in what's simply a blur of colors. I find myself erupting with giggles as I'm wheeled around the halls I have not seen outside of transport to and from operating rooms and radiology centers. For the first time, I am viewing these white and light blue walls in a positive light. 

My journey comes to an end in a large lounge. All the nurses and aides surrounding me giggle like children, and I feel like a normal teenage girl hanging out with her friends for once. For the first time since my admission, I don't feel like I'm in an oncology ward. I'm having so much fun it does not even feel like a hospital at all. 

I recognize the dresses hanging on racks close to the walls to be mine....my parents must have brought them in from home. I know instantly which one I want to wear, and Francesca follows my eyes. We are both rendered speechless by its beauty. It is the darkest shade of black, with vibrant red roses littered throughout the design. It reaches mid-thigh, and it is beautiful. I have never had a chance to wear it. 

The fateful rose dress is the one we bought for my funeral when I was first diagnosed. By this point, I should be six feet under in that dress. How I've made it this far is practically a miracle. I decide this is the dress I want to wear today. The article of clothing deserves to be painted in a positive light, and I expect lunch today to be absolutely amazing. Remington and I don't really have the opportunity to do "dates". Dating the dying kid isn't easy. 

I'm  helped to my feet, two nurses holding my arms by the elbows as my legs shake wildly. I feel ready to collapse, as Francesca quickly works around the tubes and lines leaving and entering my body to get the dress on. She's my normal nurse, so there's no shame in her seeing me in my undergarments when she's touched my whole tit before to insert a PICC line into my chest. 

"Oh, sweetheart!" She exclaims, clasping her hands together. "You look so very beautiful; oh my."

I smile as I rake my hands down my body. I can feel the tubes beneath the dress fabric, but having them out of sight is nice for once. Giggles leave my lips once more as I bring my hands to the sides of my face. My cheeks are full of color.

For the first time since diagnosis, I feel beautiful. Remington has always told me he wishes I would describe myself in the same beautiful way I describe nature to him. It was always a hard task, describing myself. I view myself as an ugly creature, not worth much with little value. Today, I feel like a princess, a queen. I feel stunning, confident. I feel the strange emotion of okay combined with the even stranger pretty. I have hardly looked at my own self in a positive light....that seems to change in this very moment.

Francesca grabs hold of my wheelchair and pushes me toward the elevator. Prior to the doors opening, a surgical mask covers my mouth and nose. My immune system is pretty much nonexistent at this point....so precautions must be taken to insure I don't fall ill. It's part of the reason I hardly leave this ward....I cannot risk the bacteria floating about this hospital. The most I ever see is from my gurney to various treatments....radiation, screening, large scale picturing like MRIs and CAT scans, operating rooms, and much more. My world is very small, but I value the people I have the privilege of sharing it with.

Once off the elevator, I find myself in the cafeteria, though it lacks its normal appearance. More flowers decorate the space, but the overall color scheme is blacks and dark reds, much like my dress. Soft music plays in the background, and it looks nothing like the place I once knew.

Remington steps into light, and I immediately smile. He looks dashing. My love is dressed in a black dress shirt accompanied by a white tie, black slacks, and just simple white sneakers. His spiked black hair blends in with the surroundings we're enveloped in, making it hard for me to see. However, Remington's smile shines bright in the dim atmosphere. His teeth seem to sparkle as he steps toward me.

Francesca pushes me to meet him halfway, where he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing my middle knuckle. "You look so beautiful, baby." He compliments. The emotions in his eyes speak more than words ever could. His eyes hold the definition of love.

Remington places a beautiful bouquet of flowers in my hand. They're yellow roses, vibrant and radiating their color. "Pretty, just like you." His lips meet my cheek only moments after the words escape them. I feel myself blush, all heat running to my face. Remington smiles against my skin before pulling back.

He thanks Francesca before taking my wheelchair himself and moving me toward the back of the cafeteria. I'm aware of the sound of plates and silverware clinking away. It feels as though we have our own private sanctuary....one place to exist, and yet we did not go far.

The plates are vacant when we arrive at the table, and will stay that way. That's not usual for a restaurant, but I cannot swallow, and Remington would never eat without me having a feed going into my stomach. Currently, I am without feed....due to having chemo just 16 hours before.

We hold hands across the table, and my heart flutters as it did when I first fell in love with this boy what seems like ages ago. It has only been a few years, but very eventful at that. I trace his knuckles and the tendons sticking up from the back of his hand....and I smile. I smile in a way never before. I am happy in a way I cannot describe. This happiness makes my stomach churn and my heart trap in my throat. I enjoy this happiness, and I wish I felt it more often.

"So, baby," Remington says, squeezing my hand as he speaks. "I bet you're wondering why I've turned a dingy hospital cafeteria into what appears to be a five-star resturant."

"I don't mind paradise." I smirk. "It's beautiful, I can't believe you did all this."

"Only the best for you," He tells me, lifting a small glass of champagne to my lips. He pours only a sip down my throat, testing to see rather it will make it down without me choking. The liquid succeeds past my lymph nodes, and he smiles, leaving the glass in front of me. "I'm sure you don't mind the view." With a cocky smirk he gestures down his own body. I roll my eyes. "All joking aside, you look beautiful. Seriously....holy fuck." The blush of mine returns, and I find my smile return.

"Thank you, handsome. Why did you do all this tho?" I tighten my hold on his hand. He is my lifeline, now and always.

"Well....you see something's been eating at me. I've got a pressing question I'm just dying to ask!"

"Hey, that's not funny!"

"Right," He smiles, mirroring my own.  "Well...uh, this is off to a great start." My Remington takes a deep breath, as if he is trying to bring life back into his lungs.

"Kayla, my beautiful girlfriend." Remington exhales rather aggressively as he speaks. "I'm not sure how to say....ask this so I'm just going to do it." He takes another breath of life.

"Kayla Coleman, would you like to be my beautiful wife?"