Page 140 of Through My Window
“Hey, that’s cheating.”
He ignores me and keeps running, and I have no choice but to chase him.
A squeeze on my shoulders wakes me up, ending that pleasant dream, full of games and innocence. My mother rubs my arm and offers me a coffee with her other hand.
Caramel macchiato, my favorite.
It reminds me of Ares and our first date at the hospital. I haven’t dared to call him, to say anything to him, because I know he’ll come running, and I don’t want to ruin his New Year. I know that’s the least of it right now, but I don’t want to involve anyone else in this painful situation.
“He’s awake; his parents have just been to see him. Do you want to go in?”
My heart clenches, and my chest burns.
“Yes.”
“You can do it, Raquel.”
My hand shakes on the door handle, but I turn it, and step inside. My eyes are fixed on the floor as I close the door behind me. When I look up, I cover my mouth to stifle my sobs.
Joshua is lying on white sheets, an IV hooked up to his right arm. He looks so pale and fragile, like he could break at any moment. His honey-colored eyes meet mine and immediately fill with tears. With big steps, I approach him and hug him gently.
“You idiot! I love you very, very much.” I bury my face in his neck. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”
When we separate, Joshua averts his gaze, wiping away his tears.
“I have nothing to forgive you for.”
“Joshua, I . . .”
“I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be by my side just because this happened.”
“What are you . . . ?”
“It was my decision. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else.”
I step back, staring at him, but he doesn’t look at me.
“No, you’re not going to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Push me away,” I state. “I’m not here out of obligation. I’m here because I love you, and yes, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before to try to fix things, but I had already decided to look for you before this happened, I swear.”
“I am not asking for anything from you.”
“But I want to explain, I want you to know how much I’ve missed you. How much I care about you.”
“So I won’t attempt suicide again?”
Where had that bitterness in his voice come from? That disinterest in life? Had it always been there? I remember my mother’s words:asking for help makes no sense because life has lost meaning. Maybe nothing mattered to him anymore.
I approach him.
“Yoshi.” I pause, noticing how he tenses at his nickname. “Look at me.”
He shakes his head, and I take his face in my hands. “Look at me!”
His eyes meet mine, and the emotions I see in them break my heart: despair, pain, loneliness, sadness, fear . . . lots of fear. Tears come to my eyes again.
