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It was a rainy day in the small city of West Nuri and it was for this reason that the streets were empty, silent except for the sound of the rain hitting the pavement or the occasional. The rain had been coming down for days, which happened sometimes in West Nuri since the city was situated right on the coast. Its glittering beaches were usually crowded with people, but today the waves are rough and crash violently against the shore. With the threat of a storm looming over the city, almost all of its residents were at home, waiting it out.
Mora Grace was not one of them.
The bus pulled up to the curb, its brakes squealing as the bus came to a stop. The rear doors slid open, and Mora flew out of the bus, running before her feet even hit the pavement. She bolted down the sidewalk, pushing herself to run faster and cursing herself when she couldn’t. Her legs burned with exertion, but she wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop. The memory of this morning’s phone call was seared in her mind, and it was the one thing that would keep her going.
Mora had been sleeping when the phone call came, warm and tucked into her bed. She hadn’t planned on waking up earlier than noon, but the ring of her phone disturbed her. She groaned, then felt for her phone on her nightstand. She answered it, bringing it to her ear with a groggy, “Hello?”
“Is this Mora Grace McLellan?” The female voice answered. The seriousness in her voice woke Mora up, and she rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed.
“Yes, this is she. What is it?”
“Ms. McLellan, Cameron Lynch is at the hospital. West Nuri General Hospital…”
“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed, confusion drawing into her expression. “I-I don’t understand, I thought his chemo appointment wasn’t until Saturday.”
“It’s not for chemo, he’s sick. It’s pneumonia.”
Dread pooled in the bottom of her stomach and its tendrils gripped onto her. “Is it bad?” Her voice came out much softer than she wanted it to, and she could hear the distinct fear in her voice. Her boyfriend, Cameron, has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. He was diagnosed when he was 6, but he’s been in remission for longer than Mora’s known him. A few weeks ago, he found out that the cancer is back, but so far it’s been responding well to treatment. However, he is pretty susceptible to illnesses since his white blood cells are compromised, and she knows that something like pneumonia can be deadly to him.
“It’s not looking good.”
Her breath caught in her throat and tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said, her voice coming out much stronger than she thought it would. She hung up, sitting in silence for a bit before she burst into a flurry of action, throwing clothes and toiletries into a bag, running into the bathroom to put on clothes, gargling mouthwash to clear her morning breath and snatching her glasses just as she sped out of her room. She’d rushed out of the house, skipping breakfast, and barely caught the bus that took her a couple of blocks away from the hospital.
Now, she stood outside the doors to West Nuri General Hospital, the rain pounding down harder against her. The looming doors of the hospital stood in front of her, and it only took her a moment’s hesitation before she pushed through the doors, dripping wet in the hospital’s front lobby. Mora was quite a sight, soaked to the bone and her dark curls a frizzy mane exploding out of her head. Her glasses were fogged up and sporting water droplets, and she knew that it probably looked like she plunged her face into a bowl of water. The blonde, middle-aged receptionist glanced up at her, and even she looked surprised at Mora’s appearance. As Mora rushed up to the desk, the receptionist’s expression smoothed over into a more blank one, and Mora felt somewhat encouraged by this, blurting out words at rapid speed. “I’m–I’m here to see Cameron, my boyfriend, Cameron—he’s got pneumonia and he’s sick and I’ve come to see him and—”
The receptionist put her hands up in a placating gesture, her green eyes wide. “Hey, darling, slow down there. Let’s start over. Deep breaths, hon.” The receptionist mimicked taking a deep breath, and Mora followed her, taking comfort in her calming voice. The receptionist continued speaking, “Better?” As Mora nodded, she said, “Good. Now, what’s your name?”
“My name is Mora Grace. McLellan. Mora Grace McLellan.”
“And you’re here to see—?”
“Cameron, Cameron Lynch.”
A few clicks on the computer, and the receptionist looks up at her again with kind eyes. “He’s right in room 217, that’s upstairs and then to your left. Here,” she passes Mora a disposable mask, “take this mask; his type of pneumonia isn’t that contagious, but it’s best to be precautious.”
She nods, barely holding back the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, before turning and hurrying off to the elevators.
Mere minutes later, Mora stood outside of Cameron’s room, gasping as she took in the sight of him. There were tubes in his nose, and he was connected to a screen that displayed his heartbeat, oxygen saturation and other things that Mora didn’t understand. His hair was matted against his pillow, and his pale cheeks were paler now than they’d ever been. She could also see the sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breaths seemed to be laboured, even with the tubes giving him oxygen through his nose. The side effects of his chemo left him pretty bad off, but he looked worse now than Mora had ever seen him. He coughed, and that broke Mora from her thoughts. Without another moment’s hesitation, she hurried over to his side, pulling a chair right next to his bedside and sitting down.
She placed her hand in his, squeezing it and leaning forward. She felt tears coming to her eyes for the millionth time that day and stubbornly pushed them away. She wanted so badly to hate him—she could feel the resentment simmering in her gut—but seeing him in this state, she couldn’t make herself hate him. Still, she could remember her reasonings as clear as day.
The memory hit fast and suddenly, with all the force of a tractor-trailer. Her thoughts had been veering precariously close to that day, so it shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did to be hit with that memory. One moment she was in Cameron’s hospital room, the next she was right outside his apartment, four days ago.
Mora had been standing outside the door to Cameron’s apartment. She hadn’t called him ahead of time to announce her coming to visit, but she didn’t think she needed to. A week ago, he’d given her a key to his apartment, and she’d given him one to hers. They’d talked about moving in, but Cameron had a roommate, and he wanted to make sure his roommate would be fine if he moved in with Mora. It was a slow process, but Mora had faith that they would live together in the upcoming months.
She was wearing a yellow and blue floral dress that accentuated her figure, and a gold necklace that Cameron had given her. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, and she was wearing her fancy glasses, the ones with a gold rim. She stared at the door for a few moments, fidgeting with her fingers, before knocking. When no answer came, Mora took out the spare key from her pocket and unlocked the door, pushing through it. It opened into Cameron’s living room, and she didn’t see his roommate around. Mora assumed she was at work, and that was the last that she thought of it.
She called out for Cameron, but when he didn’t respond, she figured he must’ve been in the bathroom, so she decided to wait for him outside, in his living room. However, she started hearing sounds coming from the bedroom—Cameron’s bedroom. It sounded like moaning, and then when she heard a female voice calling out her boyfriend’s name, she hesitated no more and burst into the bedroom. She saw her boyfriend topless and making out with a topless girl, the two of them so close together it was as if they’ve never been separated before.
The next things happened in slow motion, Cameron and the girl turn around—oh hey, wait, that girl is Savannah, Cameron’s roommate—and Mora yells at the two of them, ripping her necklace off and hurling it at him. She gets out of there fast, blocks his number, and spends the next couple of days crying.
The memory ends as abruptly as it began, and Mora finds that tears are coming down her cheeks. She wipes them away furiously and pushes down the surge of anger that rose within her. She recognizes that this hospital room with its tubes and the beep of Cameron’s heartbeat was not the time or place for any hostile emotions. She would deal with all of it later when Cameron got better. Not if, when. She reassured herself in her mind.
Suddenly, as if to confirm Mora’s thoughts, Cameron groaned, his eyes fluttering open.
“Mora?” He croaked.
“Shh,” she said, up by his side, stroking his brown hair. “Rest. You need all your strength, Cam.”
“What…” He coughed, deep and wracking. “What are you…doing here, Mora G?”
“What do you mean? Of course, I’m here,” she cooed. “I’ll always be here.”
“But—don’t you… hate me?”
“No, Cam,” she gulped back the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall. “I love you.”
“I’m… I’m sorry… Mora G.” This cough was more prolonged than the last one.
“It’s okay, Cam, it’s okay.” She was downright blubbering now, tears streaming down her face and snot coming out of her nose. “I forgive you, I forgive you.”
“Mora G…” he reaches up towards her face, smiling up with his blue-green eyes. “I love you… more than… anything in… this world.”
“I know, Cam,” she places his hand against the part of her cheek not covered by the mask.
“I’ll always… be with you… Mora G… remember… that.”
“No,” Mora starts shaking, her grip tightening on his hand. “You’re going to be fine Cam. We’re going to move in and get married and have kids and grow old together. Right, Cam?”
He simply smiled at her—a knowing smile, as if he knew something that she didn’t—and turned away from her. A coughing fit erupted from his lips, and after it ended, he started gasping for air, his mouth wide and gaping, before his eyes closed, and his lips developing a bluish tinge to them. There was an alarm blaring from the machine monitoring Cameron’s stats, and as Mora looked to it, panic rising in her, she took note that his oxygen saturation was dropping. She screamed for help and a nurse ran in, pushing a button on the wall of the room, before rushing to Cameron’s side. “Code blue, room 217. Cold blue, room 217,” a robotic voice repeated through the PA system in the halls. A whole team rushed into the room, and suddenly Mora was being pushed out, and she struggled against the nurses shoving her away, saying she had to be there with him, but they ignored her, removing her from the room, where she was helpless to watch as Cameron’s life slipped away.
Weeks later, Mora stood in Cameron’s apartment after the funeral, sorting through boxes of stuff that his family had organized. Savannah, his roommate, was nowhere to be found, but she wasn’t complaining. She was afraid that if she did see her, it would only end in a fight. It was late, Cameron’s relatives had left earlier in the night and Mora found herself alone, sitting by herself on Cameron’s bed. She had the box designated to her on her lap, and she was sifting through it. Her hand caught onto something, and she pulled it out, smiling as she realized that it was the gold necklace that Cameron had given her. She put it on, resting the gold dove pendant against the light brown skin of her chest.
Her hands rested on her belly, as she was beginning to do when she sought comfort. Mora looked skyward, tears streaming from her eyes as the weight of the loss of her boyfriend fully hit her. His last words to her, “I’ll always… be with you… Mora G… remember… that,” replayed in her mind and she knew it was true, he would always be with her, in her memories and in his child that she carried. She wouldn’t have him, but she would have his kid, and that would have to be enough for her.
And something else, from now on @Rainbow will be hosting the writing competitions together with me!
Maybe I’ll be able to come up with something by then.
Congrats!