In Perspective
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My hands twisted the bottom of my shirt in a manor I thought I had
long dropped. I could feel the material thinning in my hands as I stretched it
in a vicious fashion. The stale smell of the hospital offered no comfort on my
part, but instead made me more nervous. My fingers twitched.
The uncomfortable bucket seats were worse. After not moving for three hours, my
bottom was numb and my back ached. The throbbing in my head increased as next to
me, Nick's foot tapped the floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
He switched legs and started tapping more furiously. I could almost see the
tiled floor grimace in pain each time his foot hit it.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
On the other side of me, Howie was mindlessly flipping through one of the
outdated magazines the hospital provided. I couldn't help but wonder how many
people had flipped aimlessly through the same magazine, to keep them distracted,
to keep them from facing the reality. Maybe they hid their faces into these
magazines and cried silently when a doctor told them that their loved one had
just died, griping the pages until their fingers turned white and the edges of
papers crumpled over. Or perhaps the crinkles are from a man clenching it
joyfully after the discovery that he was now the proud grandfather of a baby
girl. Or maybe the wrinkles are from rolling the magazine up, and squashing a
fly. Or perhaps, the wrinkles occurred after someone was just told that one of
their best friends was in a coma from a car accident with an eighteen-wheeler.
Perhaps there was no significance. Perhaps I was just trying to keep my mind off
of why I was there in the first place.
Next to Howie was Brian. He had one of his legs up on the chair, his fingers
toying with the ripped fringes of his worn jeans, and next to him was Kristin.
Asleep, she looked peaceful, her head laying on the shoulder of her husband's
cousin, Nick's jacket strewn across her body. Her hair looked as though she had
been running her fingers through it all day, and her cheeks were puffy from
tears. Yet somehow, she still looked peaceful.
I figured that in her dreams, she and Kevin were happy and safe. His car was in
once piece and he was far away from the highway. Maybe in her dreams, him being
in a coma didn't exist. Instead she lived with her love in a nice suburban home,
with a white picket fence, a dog, and a swimming pool. In her dreams she didn't
have to see the faces of our fans when they gathered around the totaled car and
realized that the limp body inside was Kevin Richardson. Maybe he wasn't even
famous. Because if he wasn't famous, he wouldn't have been on the highway in the
first place. He wouldn't have needed to go to a teen magazine interview. Instead
he would be in their perfect home, cooking at their grill, petting their dog,
picking out names for the child they planned to have someday.
But what was maybe? It was a word I had grown to despise in the past three
hours. Maybe meant nothing but false promises. It was right up there with 'if'
and 'Perhaps.'
Perhaps what? If only what? Maybe what? Maybe if we weren't famous... Perhaps if
it weren't raining... If only he drove a little slower?
I could hear Brian begin to pray. Next to me, Nick's head lifted and he stared
at the Kentuckian. Recently, the two had not been getting along. Often there
were fights and snide, nasty remarks about the other. However they still shared
a secret bond that would never be broken between them. Brian's eyes turned
towards Nick and in a silent exchange of words, Nick nodded and began to pray
aloud also.
Howie, who seemed to have long ago giving up on the magazine joined in. Under my
breath, I too began my prayers. We each said different words, but they held the
same meaning- Let Kevin live.
Adjacent to me, Nick grew louder.
"Lord God, I ask of you, bless Kevin and let him live!" His voice was
steady, and he continued, praising the Lord and asking for Him not to take Kevin
just yet.
The secretary, the only other person in the room aside from us, barely looked
up. It seemed outbursts of prayer were common.
Several minutes later there was a ripple of 'Amens' as we finished. It was quiet
once again.
I picked up the same magazine that Howie had looked at and started to flip
through it, hoping to occupy my mind once again. Towards the middle there was an
article on men's health. One of the pictures showed a father with his son on his
shoulders.
I had never had a real father. Just a man who used to live with my mother and I.
That's how I thought of him now. He wasn't my dad, he was just a passer by- no
one important. When he abandoned my mother and I, I was barely fazed by it. He
was never really there in the first place.
I knew I grew up a messed up child- despite my mom's intentions of raising me
well. There were many things she got right but- she was only a mother. What I
needed was a father to talk to me about growing up as a male.
When I was fifteen and met Kevin, I resented him at first. He set rules down for
us and was hard on me- trying to calm my wild urges. When he learned about my
father, he backed off.
I remembered that there was a two month period in which I wasn't reprimanded for
anything. Though Kevin finally sat me down and spoke with me.
It was in Nebraska, after we had finished a high school concert and were walking
around. We sat at one of the outside benches in the back of the school. It was
spring and the air was comfortable. Flowers had just begun to sprout through the
soil, the last snow melted.
We were quiet for several moments. Then Kevin sighed, and spoke.
"You know- Nick's parents did a pretty good job with him. At least on the
side of manners. But his attention cravings shows that they weren't ever really
there. That's their fault- leaving their child to care for younger siblings at
what? Nine years old he started? He grew up in a sense of serious
responsibility, but never fully aged since nine. But at least he had a father to
explain things."
"What are you getting at, Richardson?" My face twisted in confusion.
We all knew how screwed up Nick's childhood was, why was he explaining it to me?
"You see, Alex..." He paused, "Rules were laid down for Nick and
he followed them. One set from his mother, one from his father. Each set
different, but important to the development of a young man. You however... are
missing one set." I bit my lip, forcing myself not to respond. "It
isn't your fault that your father ran out on you. It isn't your mother's either,
but that's not the case here, the case is that you lacked a paternal source of
supervision."
I licked my lips, "Kev?"
He sighed, "Alex, you need supervision. I'm not just saying this to be mean
and over bearing, I'm saying this as a friend. Let me help you. If you need
advice, someone to talk to, I'm here for you. You know I'll always listen. If
you have a question, or a complaint, come to me. You're fifteen, soon to be
sixteen, this is a hard time in your life, let me help you through it. I may not
be your father, but I can try to give you the things he should have."
From that moment on, I saw Kevin in a whole new light. He became a father figure
to me. Guiding me through things and doing what he could. So when I got the call
that he had been in an accident, it hurt like it was my actual father. I guess I
never really appreciated what he gave to me. And now, I was on the brink of
losing him.
My eyes watered over, blurring my vision. I felt Howie's hand on my shoulder.
"He's going to be okay, I know it." Forcing a smile back at him, I
covered his hand with my own.
And the hours passed.
It was nearly two in the morning before we heard anything.
The doctor came towards us in long strides. His black shoes tapping on the floor
and the white medical coat flapping behind him. His face was expressionless, as
if he wore a mask, hiding his emotions behind a stethoscope.
"Are you here for Mr. Richardson?" My breath caught in my throat. This
was it. In the next few moments I could lose the only father I had ever known.
My hands gripped Howie's and Nick's. I felt their blood pulsing through their
veins, just as fast as mine. My heart leaped into my throat, I held my breath.
'Please God, please don't take him from me. He means to much, I never noticed
how much until now but...Please! Let my father live! He's my dad! The only dad
that matters! Please Lord...'
The doctor put on one of his doctor smiles. A tiny smirk that formed at the
corners of his mouth and seemed not to go anywhere else.
Howie spoke the words I wanted to, but couldn't. "Is he...is he
alive?"
Oh God, this was it...I didn't want to lose him...
The corners of the doctor's mouth lifted a little more. "He's going to be
fine."
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