White Roses, Sketches and Lines

The room is plain white. In the middle of the room is a bed with a body lying atop. A woman lies motionless, seemingly lifeless. On her bedside table is a bouquet of fresh white roses probably bought from the flower shop, four blocks away from the hospital, and a sketchpad that has been left untouched, since her admission to the hospital.

No one is present in the room. Therefore, no other sound is heard other than the soft drops of the fluid on her IV and the machine that acts as a life support. The young woman wears an oxygen mask that aids in breathing, a light blue hospital gown that fits her fragile body loosely and a plastic bracelet that serves as her identification and that says she is a patient.

A nurse, with her white crisp uniform, her dark brown hair and streaks of white and grey tied on a bun and whose eyes seem to glimmer as she sees a glimpse of the young woman, walks in the room carrying the patient's record on one hand and on the other, the patient's prescribed medical fluid. She is on her daily rounds and the woman lying on the bed is one of her favorite patients. Why? The nurse does not know either, a few weeks ago she asked herself that question but she has no answer. Maybe it's because of the friendly air the patient has, yes, maybe that's it. Or maybe it's because of the angelic features her patient possesses or maybe not.

The nurse checks the woman's heart monitor, the beat is slightly slower in comparison to the normal beating of the heart but it still is better than nothing. She makes sure to write it on her record because it is protocol and the doctors would ask for the values later when they check on the patient. She also checks the rate on how fast the liquid drops; she makes certain adjustments using the roller clamp, making sure that her adjustments are precise and accurate as to what the doctor advised, before injecting the fluid through the injection port, prescribed by the consulting doctor. She takes note of the other vital signs of the patient and the progress the patient makes today.

The nurse observes the patient once more before heading out and before making her way to the patient she is assigned to next.

It had been exactly 12 months since her last treatment, 6 months since her visit to the hospital where her doctor said she was getting better and the oral pills were the only ones left needed for her to take on a daily basis and 2 months since her transition to becoming normal.

Sleep was supposed to be a loveable past time, but in her case, it was a nightmare. Because whenever she would sleep, she wouldn’t know whether she would be able to wake up, she might wake up maybe the day after or the day after next or maybe, or worse she probably would never wake up. The doctor said, it was a rare condition, a mystery as dubbed by her parents, for her it was nuisance, proper medication and treatment would be the best way to fight it. Although she did not want any of the treatment advised by her doctor, she still complied, knowing that someone would want her to, someone would want her to get better, and so she did. She never missed her treatment; she never forgot to take her medicine, until now.

She looked around for inspiration, breathing in and out, waiting for something to act as her muse. She was sitting on a bench at a children’s park on a Saturday morning. The sun was shining brightly over her, yet kids were starting to head home since it was almost lunch time, a couple was sitting on the other bench, holding each other’s hand, and just a few steps away was an old lady carrying a bouquet of white roses.

A smile lit up on her face as a memory resurfaced.

White roses, she thought. Someone reminded her of white roses.

She immediately opened her sketchpad filled with random sketches and drawings; she flipped the pages one by one staring at the drawings for a couple of seconds before turning to another page. She did it a couple of times until she reached a blank page. Her hands caressed the blank page before taking her pencil out from her bag. 

She pressed her pencil onto the paper, enough to make a dot, contemplating on the kind of approach or method she’d use for her next piece of art, soon, her hands moved smoothly as she drew long of lead onto her canvass. It’s as if her hands already knew what to do, they were gracefully dancing to a silent music. Her hands transitioned from a quick pace to a slow one and vice versa using different amounts of pressure with each , like a musical piece nearing its but taking a rest for a dramatic effect. She added details to her sketch, making circular motions and using her fingers to blend the black color scheme used.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember every minute detail she could as she continued to imprint the picture from her consciousness. She was so into the drawing that she did not bother to check on the time; it was already thirty minutes after 12 and she needed to take her daily dose of medicine, but the thought escaped from her mind. Even though she was healthier, she had to take her medicine as a precaution and prevention.

It seems that the sun contrasts the gloomy feeling he has in his heart since the sun shines brighter than any other day. Rays of the morning sun reflects on the room despite the efforts of the thin curtains to block the light.

This is her favourite time of the day, he thinks. His gaze shifts to the two things on her bedside table- her sketchpad and white roses. Ever since they started dating, she has never allowed him to look into her sketchpad. She is very secretive. She even tried to break up with him years ago, saying she cheated on him when she found out that she had a very rare case of disease that is likely incurable. She said she did not want to bother him anymore or be a burden to him.

He opens the sketchpad and looks at each drawing carefully. On the first page is a drawing of a white rose, the next is a high school, on the next page is a sunrise and on the next is a basketball. Random. It seems that whenever she finds an inspiration, she draws immediately.

He continues to scan the drawings and on the last page, he sees something that surprises him.

It is a sketch of a young man that is beautifully drawn. On the bottom corner is the date and the signature of the young woman. And on the top left corner is the word “KAI”, his nickname. He traces the outline of the sketch and smiles sadly. She drew this on the day she forgot to take her medicine. It was also the day she was again admitted to the hospital. It was also the day he planned to surprise her and the day he was supposed to ask her to marry him. It was supposed to be a happy day for the both of them.

He planned everything two weeks prior, from the tux he was supposed to wear, to the place he planned. He asked for his friends’ help to set things in motion. He asked permission from the young woman’s parents and they gladly gave their blessing to Jongin. All that was left was, for the woman to say the word “Yes”. Jongin was at the apartment around 10 in the morning, decorating the apartment with white roses, with the help of his friends. He patiently arranged some of the white to a form of a heart. He thought it would be a cute place to stand and pop the question. Yes, it was quite corny but he knew she would appreciate his gesture. He even wore a tux he bought specially for this even and on his left pocket was a small red box, with a 5-karat diamond ring inside it.

He walked around the room, checking everything, making sure things were in place. When things were in order, he thanked his friends and pushed them out the door. By noon, he was all set; he waited for the young woman to come home, since it had always been a routine for her to come home at around twelve. He walked back and forth with his heart pounding wildly inside his chest. He was nervous for sure, but something was different. Thirty minutes passed one, his phone rang. He answered it almost immediately when he saw the young woman’s caller ID. But to his dismay, it was from a nurse who worked at the hospital, where the young woman was rushed to, a few minutes ago.

He did not think twice and left the apartment. He drove like a madman heading towards the hospital. He was in shock, he was not focused at all. He called the young woman’s parents and asked them to come to the hospital immediately, to which they responded with a depressing okay.

The doctors told them that she was alright but they did not know when she’d wake up or if she would ever wake up. They were advised that she should stay until she wakes up. This happened two months ago but until now, the woman showed no signs of waking up.

He remembers their memories together, the smiles she showed, the laughs and cries and the times they shared.

He holds on to her hands and feels the warmth it has. He savours the moment, he surely misses it.

~~~~~

A few minutes ago, he has called the woman's parents and informed them about her status. They immediately left their work and are on their way to the hospital.

Her condition seems to have gotten worse, her breathing is heightened and her blood pressure has elevated.

Jongin impatiently waits for them as he knows there’s not enough time. Then, the door pushes open revealing the woman’s parents. Although their age is considerably higher, they manage to look healthy and strong. They look rather strict and uptight especially since they are wearing formal attires proper for their work, but their eyes are full of worry as they take long strides towards the young woman’s bedside.

The young woman’s father moves closer to Jongin and pats his shoulder.

“You’re doing good son. And I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He says to Jongin and offers a sympathetic smile but his eyes say the opposite. He is probably assuring himself more than Jongin.

The young woman’s mother, who ran towards her daughter a while ago, lets go of her daughter’s hand and makes way for her husband to come. They kiss her forehead and hug her.

They both stay at one side of the young woman’s bed and Jongin on the other. The attending doctor and the nurse, who always takes care of the woman, walk in side by side they check on the patient and talk among themselves for a bit before facing the parents and Jongin.

“I’m sorry to say this but I think she is not doing well. If she does go into cardiac arrest, we’ll do our best to bring her back, but it is all up to you.” The doctor slowly explains.

The young woman’s parent look at each other eye to eye, mentally talking. The father, who is the stronger of the two, speaks up, “We think our daughter has suffered enough, we don’t want her to feel more pain. It’s already painful to see her everyday in this state.”

“If that is what you want, we’ll let it be.” The doctor replies.

Both parents hug their daughter one more time and kiss her. They both said their I Love you’s and goodbyes.

Jongin kisses her forehead before he whispers, “I love you. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of your parents.” HE almost chokes on his words as his tears are threatening to fall. He kisses her cheeks once more as he allows his tears to fall from his eyes.

As if on cue, the young woman takes one last deep breath before the line on the monitor goes straight. Only the beep of the monitor is heard throughout the room and no one dares to make a sound. 

Jongin and the young woman’s parents seem to have held their breath for a couple of seconds because when the doctor has deemed the young woman lifeless at 11:43, that is when they let out loud sighs and cries.

Jongin has never cried that much.

~~~~~

It has been three months and the young woman’s parents have tried to move on. And it has been three months since they left the country to try and find peace.

It has been a three months since she left. It has been three months and Jongin is not getting any better. He sleeps day and night, he never goes out, he never sees his friends, although his friends come and force him to go out, he still refuses and decides to stay back. Thrice a week, his parents visit him and bring him food and ask him to move on, but there is no response from Jongin. They patiently wait for him to recover when time will pass, hopeful that Jongin will indeed move on and live for the better. Bags under his eyes are evident, he has gotten thinner and paler, he still has not gotten over her yet.

She is Jongin’s life source, she is his oxygen, without her, Jongin is lifeless.

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