24 11.1: Carotene (2/2)

”I'm trying-” I point out, my voice breaking pathetically. ”I'm trying to understand even though you know how hard it is when I'm barely coping with understanding myself. Besides- besides, I don't expect you to do that. All I want is your presence. I don't want you to make me 'feel better'-”

Tobias shuffles, sighs softly, raggedly. ”Sometimes, there'll be days-” He says. ”-when I can't be myself. Sometimes things just don't-” He squeezes his eyes, blinks abundantly. ”They don't go the way we want them to. I-I want to be with you...too-” He's gulping. ”I want to help you out but maybe sometimes I want to help myself. And I thought you understood that-”

I blink at him, at his slouched shoulders and his clenched fists and wonder what messed him up so much in the little amount of time I left him in.

”Let me in-” I tell him bare, my eyes looking into his. ”Maybe I can help a little-”

”Help yourself Rose-” He says, his eyes taking a skinny dip in the tears that I wish I could talk to and understand their point, their pain.

My lips are slightly parted at his despondency as he starts backtracking away from me with an 'apologetic' look on his face and with a whining Benji at his heels.

I suppose he isn't sorry enough to stay.

And since the dead have no ego (cause what's the bloody point?), I reach out for his arm to stop him. Tobias looks surprised at my audacity and my persistence.

His lips are saying words that I fail to hear because I realize that something is pulling down my navel. My eyes widen and Tobias shuts up, seemingly as surprised as I am.

And together, surprised and messed up, we're taken to another dimension.

---

It takes me some time to open my eyes and I wonder how many flowers bloomed, how many babies were born and how many eggs hatched in the seconds my eyelids took to bid their goodbyes and peel my eyes naked to the world.

And I'm standing in a room. In a room in a hospital, judging by the amounts of dull baby blues and greys used to paint the place and by the antiseptic smell lingering in the air.

My eyes are unfocused and wandering around the ceiling and blinding white LED lights until they fall onto a figure lying on a hospital bed, covered by more baby blue and grey.

Benji struts to the bed's footing and sniffs the squeaky clean white tiles as I blink and furrow my brows, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me. I'm about to approach the bed when Tobias' unsteady voice blocks all my thoughts.

”Roseline, please-” is what he says and I turn quickly to look at his ashen face, his teary golden eyes and his sad, sad lips.

And I suppose his gloomy features are telling the story his mouth failed to put in words. I glance behind my shoulder at the bed that's hugging a person who means nothing to me but seemingly means the world to him.

And now I understand.

I look back at him and know, with immense shock, that I'm in his world. And he's looking at me like he's begging for mercy, and for a moment, my problems seize to exist.

”I'd never hurt you-” I say softly. His eyes flutter close, then open. ”Who's she?” I whisper the question like it's a secret.

Tobias knows he can't escape me or my questions now. He gulps, glances behind my shoulder before muttering something inaudibly.

I catch his eyes and get closer to him as his eyebrows dip down slightly and his lips get pried open to let out a whisper of a word that seemingly weighs down his heart.

”Mum-” His eyes well up.

I lift my eyebrows unamusedly. Because, of course, pain. Pain. Pain is the reason behind this remarkable attitude change. Pain in the human form of his mother who's apparently, who's, you know-

”She's dying-” Tobias says like it's so difficult to even bear its idea. Quite ironic if you ask me.

”I'm sorry-” I say and he shakes his head.

”No- no-” He shakes his head, sniffs and wipes his hand across his nose. ”It's just-” Before he could finish his sentence, a beeping sound bounces off of the corners of the room, taking us by surprise.

Tobias leaves me and in four to five quick, wide strides he reaches his Mom's bed. He looks around, stares at the machines beeping with life around her in confusion before he helplessly stares at the door. He stares at the door like his death depends on it.

I quickly walk to him, my heart in my skull because I feel like my head's pounding, like it's trying to dance away all its pain and utter confusion. And failing. And failing-

”A nurse should be here any time-” I try telling Tobias who's all over the place, checking equipment he most probably doesn't understand and urgently asking himself questions that all seem to have terrible answers. Questions like, 'oh no, what's happening?', like 'mum, can you hear me?' and like, 'can you please hold on?'.

And I watch him and his face got through many phases. I watch him try to focus so hard on the machines, with puckered eyebrows, only to have his face fall when he glances at his mother's unresponsive face (and, oh, have I mentioned that he takes after his mother? That they might as well have the same amount of carotene in their hair?).

I back away so that I won't get in his way of panicking and watch him curiously.

Why would he care so much about someone he chose to leave almost three decades ago?

I watch him as he leaves his mother's side reluctantly to rush to the room's door and yank it open, only to scream words that can't be heard. He's calling a doctor, anyone to come and help him out. He is too serious, too carried away, I wonder if he might have forgotten that he's dead and unheard.

Soon enough a couple of nurses and a doctor make a noisy entrance with their medical jargon, right through Tobias who's wearing the face of a phantom (ironically, yes).

Tobias doesn't leave the doctors but stands by them as they rush about. Tobias knows he can do nothing but wait hopefully and painfully for the doctor's conclusive diagnosis. But things seem to escalate and I can tell by Tobias' face that he knows that that can't be good.

Well, a nurse rips off his mother's hospital gown and another pulls the defibrillator trolly closer as the doctor holds the electrodes and starts counting.

They count 1, 2, 3 a couple of times, but it doesn't help because the golden boy's mother dies.