Dead Languages (472 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 2 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Steve St. IHOP of Awesome (View user info) at 2006-12-05 03:55:53 EST
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Lucy felt her son slip out of her hand and into the street.
The sensation lingered only a second before she heard the crunch of bone against metal. The screech of tires and the dull thud of a small body being impacted didn't register in that second. But the sight of her son's limp body being tossed through the air singed her mind. Time stopped in that instant, hovering in a second of overwhelming emptiness.
The emotions were still fresh in her mind as she replayed the instant over and over again. She sat in the doctor's office, waiting for him to return. He said he'd be back in a moment, but Lucy had lost all sense of time.
Everything leading up to the bland, sterile office was a jumble. The ambulance and the emergency room smeared together with seconds overlapping into a blur. But her son was awake, his mouth speaking silent prayers to himself. The doctors and the nurses didn't understand why they couldn't hear him. They thought he was having a seizure. He had been broken like a doll and they wanted to run tests on why he couldn't speak.
Lucy gripped the arm of her chair, still feeling the ghostly presence of her son's hand leaving hers.
She hadn't cried yet.
She refused to cry.
She was staring at the plastic plant in the corner when the door finally opened again. Slowly, Lucy lifted her head. Even if she jumped to her feet, what the doctor would say to her wouldn't change.
This was her fault.
Dr. Peterson had a kind face. Pediatricians should, Lucy thought to herself. He wasn't like the last doctor she had brought her son to.
He sat down with a sigh. He swung his chair from side to side. He looked into the white folder he was carrying and frowned.
"How long have you known your son couldn't speak?" he asked with a hint of a taunt in his voice. Lucy could hear it. He was mocking her. You're a bad mother, his eyes burned from his kind face.
Lucy cleared her throat. "He's never spoke."
Dr. Peterson shook his head. "Why didn't you bring him in when you first realized this? He's nearly six. He should be entering grade school and should have been socializing with other children for years."
"I'm home schooling him," Lucy replied sharply. "And I read that Einstein didn't speak until he was nine. Gus doesn't have a problem with speaking. A car hit him. Treat that."
He sat forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Did you ever bring him to a doctor to get him properly examined?"
"Is my son okay?" Lucy asked, ignoring the question.
"Physically, yes. He's got some road rash and his arm is broken, but what we're most concerned about is what we found in his cognitive exams. We want to go ahead with a CAT-scan," he said as he opened up the white folder again. He pulled out a sheet and made a motion to hand it to Lucy, but she ignored him again.
"Just tell me when I can take him home," she shook her head. "I'll deal with his problems myself."
"Mrs. June, when did you husband die?" Dr. Peterson sat back, the sheet still in his hand.
"Paul died when Gus was four," she said, straining to keep her voice level. "He fell off the roof right in front of his son."
"That could be the reason your son's speech has retarded," he said with a small nod. "Or this could be autism. I've still got some more tests to run to confirm it, but..."
"My son does not have autism."
"We're going to go ahead and run some more..."
"My son does not have autism."
Lucy was standing in front of Dr. Peterson's desk. She channeled her anger at herself towards the doctor and his lies. Her son wasn't sick. Her son was all she had left and she wasn't going to let him be taken by some disease.
An uneasy silence shuddered through the office. Lucy clenched her fists before sitting down again.
"Tell me when I can take my son home," she said. She swallowed and firmed her face.
Dr. Peterson sighed. "He can be discharged tomorrow. But I'd still like to keep him for a few more days."
"I'll be taking him home tomorrow," Lucy replied as she stood. "Thank you for taking such good care of my son."
Lucy left, stalking out of the door and towards the elevator. She returned to her son's room, where she had sat before the doctor called her into his office to lie to her. It was the same batch of lies she had heard two years ago, just before her husband died. They had taken their son in for a regular check-up and their deceitful doctor had told them their son had a problem. He didn't give her any solutions, but he still said he had a problem. Why tell them something was wrong if you couldn't fix it?
The day Paul died had finally faded from her mind and this brought it all back. Her husband had been fixing a window while she made supper inside. Gus was outside with him and must have seen the whole thing. He wandered inside and came up to her, mouthing his ghost words.
He watched his father die and didn't make a sound.
He knew words but chose not to say them. That made him unique, not retarded.
Lucy sat next to her son and took his small hand. Both were bandaged, but a small patch of skin showed on his left arm. The other was in a thick, white cast. She rubbed his warm skin and exhaled.
His mouth was still moving, talking but not speaking. He would sleep through the night and she would take him home the next day. They'd put this behind them, just like all the other tragedies in their lives.
"You're going to be okay, Gus," she said softly. "Just like when daddy died. We'll get through this. I promise."
She held Gus' hand and let out a heavy sigh. He was so small. His soft brown hair was the same color as his father's. When his blue eyes were open and exploring the world, they were the same shade as her mother's. She'd lost them both and now their pieces were in her son. He was perfect. The doctors were just liars.
Her mother had died just after Gus was born. Gus was two weeks old when her mother came for a visit. Lucy had handed her mother her grandson and went to the kitchen to make tea. When she returned, her son was opening and closing his mouth serenely while her mother's head was slumped over. Still holding the baby, her mother had died. It was a stroke, they said.
Lucy shut her eyes. Her son had seen two people die. No wonder he didn't speak.
"Mrs. June?" A voice from the doorway shook her awake. She turned to face the nurse.
"Would you like some water or anything?" The nurse spoke again, looking somewhat like an angel in the bright light from the hall. Lucy ignored the feeling and shook her head.
"No, I should be okay," she replied. "Is he going to be okay, though?"
The nurse smiled tightly, readying herself to lie again. "There were no major injuries inside. Just the break and some cuts and bruises. It's a bit of a miracle, actually."
"Yeah," Lucy said. "He's my miracle."
Nodding, the nurse slipped away.
Lucy sat back, wishing she could feel her husband's comforting hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the last thing he said to her. 'I'll watch him,' he'd said. They both loved their son and she nearly let him die.
Her son's hand tightened around hers and she opened her eyes. He gave her a small smile then looked in the corner of the room and started mouthing unknown words again. Lucy grinned to herself. Her son would speak to her soon. He was just waiting to find the right words.
"Mommy's going to go to the bathroom, sweetheart," Lucy said softly. "Will you be okay by yourself?"
Gus just gazed off and silently spoke to nothing.
When Lucy stood, she saw an autism pamphlet sitting on the table near the doorway. She picked it up and studied the cover before dropping it in the trash.
She left her son's room and went looking for the bathrooms. She decided to herself that she needed some time to think so she went looking for the public washrooms. She couldn't find them and settled on grabbing a bottle of water from a vending machine. She took the elevator down to the previous floor, listening to the rhythmic hum of the car as it reached the stop.
Maybe her son was sick.
The doors shuddered open and she stepped out into another white hallway.
The machine dispensed her water. She stood and looked down at it. It sat at the lip of the dispenser, swaying from side to side.
If he was sick, maybe drugs could make it better.
She picked up the bottle and opened it. She took two drinks then tossed it in the trash.
Lucy took the stairs on the way up. The swish of her pants made her mind stop rolling over what may or may not be wrong with her baby.
When she reached the top of the few steps, she heard something fall and rattle at the bottom. The garbage can she had dropped her bottle into had fallen over. Lucy frowned and slumped her head back at her clumsiness. Go down and pick it up, she chided herself.
She took one step forward.
The second she stumbled, she shut her eyes and braced for the fall. She felt each step as she fell. Each was a punch to the stomach or to her side.
She didn't remember hitting the bottom, but knew she fell when she woke up at the bottom of the stairs. Woozily, she stood and braced her hand against the wall. She felt her head and her ribs. Nothing felt broken. Everything felt okay.
"Okay," she mumbled to herself. "I'm okay."
She moved up the stairs and back to her son's room. He had sat up, fiddling with his cast. He turned and gave her a grin when she entered the room.
"Hi Mommy."
Lucy's body shuddered. She laughed nervously as joy rose up in her chest.
He spoke.
"Hi baby."
She grinned. She couldn't stop grinning.
"Can you come sit with me again?" Gus said. "I like it when you hold my hand."
Lucy was halfway out the door. "Just a second, sweetheart. Mommy has something important to tell the doctors."
Lucy sauntered confidently to the nurses' station. She saw Dr. Peterson talking with the nurse that had been to her room earlier. Perfect, Lucy thought to herself. Now they'll know.
"He just spoke," she announced. "Gus spoke to me."
They ignored her, going over a chart.
"Fine. Come see for yourself if you don't believe me."
Again, nothing. A phone rang and they turned their attention to it.
Annoyed, Lucy went back to the room. She sat next to her Gus and smiled at him.
"Can you tell mommy a story, Gus?" she said, taking his small hand. "Tell me a good story."
Gus nodded slowly, then looked to the same corner he had been talking to earlier.
He turned back and cocked his head at Lucy.
"Can daddy help me?"
Lucy froze, her smile fading.
Gus kept staring at the corner and Lucy slowly turned her head.
Her husband and her mother sat in two once empty chairs in the corner.
Lucy met Paul's eyes and he gave her a small smile. He reached over and put his hand on her mother's leg. Her mother was crying, tears slipping silently down her face.
"He just wanted to talk to you," Paul said. "He...he's sorry."
Frozen, Lucy's arms started to shake.
Her eyes were fixed on her dead family as a rapidly talking group of nurses and doctors wheeled past her door with an empty gurney.
"He's been talking to you this...this whole time?" Lucy forced words out her shaking mouth.
Paul nodded. "I'm sorry."
"He pushed me," Lucy said, looking away from Paul back to Gus. He had returned to playing with the material of his cast.
The gurney came wheeling back again, a nurse kneeling on Lucy's chest, compressing it and yelling something at the doctors.
Again, quiet fell over the room of the dead and the living. Lucy sat back, listening to her son cooing to himself. He turned and smiled at her. Lucy smiled back, feeling tears start to well in her eyes.
Her mother's sobs finally broke the silence.
And Lucy cried.
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Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2007-06-07 03:31:25 EDT (#)
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Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-05 12:15:45 EDT (#)
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