Goodbye, good luck, i love you

Prologue:

Pain. Extreme pain.Then a light floating through the darkness. The pain doesn't stop, but it recedes into the background as the light slowly approaches. With the light come pictures. At first they mean nothing, just a random shower of images, but slowly order is imposed and a scene opens up.
A man is driving along a narrow road somewhere on a motorbike looking rather distracted. He is talking quietly to himself and looks angry -- flustered and red in the face. He races along, taking his frustration out on the road, whipping round corners without slowing and opening the throttle full up on the long straight stretches.
His mind otherwise occupied, the man does not hear the sound of the truck coming round the corner till it is too late. He slams on the brakes, but he is going too fast. He skids across the road, losing control of the bike and is hit side-ways on by a big four wheel drive Volkswagen. Luckily, he is thrown clear of both the car and the bike and tumbles into a ditch.
The pictures stop, and the pain takes over again, as the light diminishes.


Chapter 1:

Slowly an awakening, eyelids flutter open, then close again, only to reopen for good a moment later. Slowly things come together, a ceiling, tubes, the feel of a bed, light from somewhere off to the side. Memories come surging in. An argument with his best friend, getting onto his bike and leaving, shooting down the road thinking of all the things he should have said. Then he remembered the truck and the Volkswagen. With this came a sudden realisation; he was in a hospital.
He sat up fast, and immediately wished he hadn't, as his head started to spin and pound at his temples. He lay back down, and waited for it too pass, then sat up again, slowly.
Looking around proved his guess. He was in a small room with typical bleak hospital wallpaper, the type that hospitals just have to have, as if they think they shouldn't have anything too happy, in case you die. Nice to know they care, huh? I suppose it has it's uses, though. Hell, you're likely to get better as quickly as possible just so you can escape the wallpaper, never mind the awful food.
He could also see lots of machines, though none, he was pleased to see, were turned on at the moment, hopefully meaning he wasn't too fucked up. There was a stall next to his bed, for visitors he surmised, and some magazines on a small table on the other side.
The stall was predictably empty, as he had been quite a way from his home when he had had the accident. He had been seeing a mate who was staying a few hours away from him, taking part in a three day training course for flying. His friend loved planed, and wanted to be a pilot when he was grown up, so his parents had saved for a long time to come up with the funds to get him onto this course.
The only ID he had had when he crashed was his learner's drivers license for his bike, and his medical card listing his allergies and such, and he wasn't sure if either of them had his phone number on them, but even if they did, it would take hours for anyone to reach him. Suddenly he realised that he might have been unconscious for hours, even days, and that there might have been ample time for them to get here. He looked around for a clock, but couldn't see one. Then he heard footsteps, which came to a halt outside the door to his room.
The door nob slowly turned, and the door was thrust open. Standing there was a woman in a white doctor's uniform, complete with clipboard and stethoscope.
She was fairly young, late twenties, maybe early thirties. She had long black hair, tied back in a composed manner, and had a comforting look about her.
"Good afternoon," she said, closing the door behind her. Her tone was serious and business like, though he could detect some underlying sympathy.
'Must be new' he thought, 'not yet used to dealing with seeing so much injury around her, and unable, as yet, to get that full doctors' impersonality which helps them to live with the things that go on around them, the maiming and the deaths, ect, not to mention all the little things like broken bones, that may heal, but never-the-less cause pain.
He then registered her words. "Afternoon?" he asked. It had been early morning when he had left his friend's place, as he had slept there for the night.
"Afternoon indeed," she replied, "you have been here for over a day now Mr Tomas."
"A day?" He repeated incredulously. He hadn't truly believed that it might be that long that he had spent here. Fleetingly he wandered then at his mother's absence, and as if reading his thoughts, the doctor said, "We have had, as yet, no success in contacting any members of your family, though we have tried a number of times. Do you have any idea where they might be?"
"My sister, Tara, is probably out with her friends, as it's holidays for us at the moment," he said "my father isn't around anymore, and my mother will be at work or visiting her friend, Lila. They are rarely at home during the day, and don't usually get back till fairly late at night."
"I see." She walked around the bed, and carefully sat down on the stall, sitting still for a moment, regarding him. Obviously satisfied with him, she decided to get down to business.
"While you were unconscious Mr Tomas, we --"
"Please, call me Chris," he interrupted, "Mr Tomas is too formal for my tastes."
"Very well. While you were unconscious Chris, we performed a series of test's including x-rays and a CAT scan, to assess whether or not you sustained internal damage. You came away from that crash a very lucky young man, Chris. You got not a single broken bone, and indeed all you did receive are a few bumps and scrapes, and some second degree burns. You were very lucky indeed."
Chris heaved a big sigh of relief, but looking at her, he decided it might have been premature. Her facial expression closed off, and now she was doing a very good rendition of doctor's impersonality. He hoped it was due to other things on her mind, things not involving him, but his hopes were dashed by what came next.
"Unfortunately Chris, you're luck seems to have run out there. I have some very bad news for you. While we were performing the CAT scan, we saw an irregularity. Now, this may not be a hundred percent accurate, but we are afraid that you may have a tumour growing on your brain. I'm very sorry."
It took a while to sink in. "A tumour?" He felt like he'd been hit by the car again. His mind was reeling, he was losing his stream of thought, everything was slipping away, and he could barely take in what the woman was saying.
"Yes, a tumour. As I said, we are not fully sure of it, but it definately looks that way. I am afraid it doesn't stop there. The tumour, if that is what it really is, appears to be in such a developed state, that it is past treatment, and --"
"Past treatment? What do you mean, past treatment?" His voice seemed to belong to someone else, and he still couldn't quite grasp what was going on.
"It means that there is nothing we can do. If it is indeed a tumour, we can't stop it. I am afraid... it is terminal." These last words were said very quickly, and the sympathy he thought he could detect in her voice earlier was coming through more strongly now, and was even showing on her face.
"Terminal." He croaked out, through his suddenly dry throat. Her words had ripped him out of his drifting, and into the present. He was wide awake now.
"You mean i am going to die?" It was only half a question. "How long?" he asked, now completely sober.
"It is hard to be sure, but a rough guess would be no more then a month at most. I'm very, very sorry. I know it must be hard to take in, especially at your age and on your own as you are. We will keep making attempts to contact your family, of course. It might make it more bearable if you had someone to be with you, someone who loves you."
"More bearable?" he laughed, sarcastically. "Somehow i find the prospect of making imminent death more 'bearable', just a bit of a joke." He saw the pained expression on her face, and felt a touch of guilt. "I'm sorry, i shouldn't take my frustration out on you," he apologised, "it's just, as you say, it is rather a shock. It isn't quite what i was expecting to have to deal with when you walked in. A few broken bones perhaps, but a month to live...!" he shook his head.
His mind had now taken in the situation, and his usual sarcastic, pessimistic humour was setting in again. Only now it had even more justification then normal. His life was full of shit, depression, and torn, hidden emotions. His way of dealing with this was to treat it as one big ironic joke, himself being the butt. Now his present situation topped the list, it was the cherry on top of the proverbial cake that was his life. Some might say that 'if his life is that bad, shouldn't he be happy that it is all over?', but though he took to life so badly, he still had his reasons for wanting to keep it.
"As i said, it is a hard thing to cope with," the doctor said, "But it will at least be comforting for you to have some loved ones around."
"No! You must not tell anyone about this. You mustn't!! His outburst shocked her, and he continued in a milder tone, "P{lease don't tell anyone, i don't want the time i have left with everyone to be full of pity and sadness. I will keep it to myself, and so must you, I beg it off you!"
"If you insist, i will do so, but i think it is a mistake. At least you should have someone here to be with you and to give you company, as we still have more tests to look at, and we have to confirm our assessment of the tumour. Also, we think it best to keep you in overnight anyway, in view of your other injuries. So now, 'I' ask you, will you please let someone come to be with you, even if you don't want to tell them about the truth? I'm sure their being here will help ease the pain, if only a little."
"OK, I will." 'But who?' Not his mother or sister he thought, he wouldn't tell them about any of this, not even the crash. 'So Who? John? No, I couldn't take his joviality right now, I'd probably punch him. Billy? No, he'd just laugh at how stupid i was; hit by a Volkswagen, what an idiot! Who? Daniel? No,, if he knew, everyone else would within five minutes. Who could i trust to keep their mouth shut about the accident, so that it won't get back to my family?' Then he knew who. 'Elaine.' Her name filled him with mixed emotions, love, despair, sorrow, all flashed through him, and the doctor could clearly see them run across his face, though she couldn't tell what they signified.
"What's the matter? Are you in pain?" she asked him quickly, worried that it might be his illness that caused such a visual display of his emotions.
"No, i'm fine", he assured her, maybe a little ' too' hurriedly. As fast as they had come, he pushed the emotions back, angry at himself for letting them show. He thought he had been resigned to that particular situation. 'I am' he said to himself, 'we're just friends! Nothing more. She made it clear that there was nothing else, and I told her that I would be able to deal with that. It's my problem if I can't accept it, my problem that it is painful, not hers. It is my problem, and I have to live with it. Or die with it, as the case may be' he couldn't help adding.
"No, i'm fine," he repeated "I was just thinking about something else, that's all. By the way, I have someone that you can call, if you insist. Her name is Elaine." Although much less obvious, he couldn't completely keep the pain off his face at her name, and the doctor, who was watching him very carefully, managed to catch it.
"She might be at home, as she is a more or less solitary person. Otherwise, she will be with Tara, who's her best friend, and whom she spends the rest of her time with. If she is with Tara your guess is as good as mine as to where they are, but if she's at home, well, then you can ask her to come here. Tell her not to worry about transport when she comes, ill pay her back later." He grinned, "It's not like i have to worry about money anymore, is it." He couldn't help laughing at that point, it was too ironic. Normally he saved every penny he had, and was really tight with it, saving it for future use. Now he didn't have a future. It was hilarious. He realised he must be really depressed for his jokes to have reached this level. Only when he was very down did his humour reach its peaks of ultimate irony.
He gave the doctor Elaine's number, and after a few more words, she rose to go. When she was at the door, he called to her "I'm sorry, but i never asked your name. What is it?"
"Dorothy." She replied.
"Thankyou, Dorothy. You have been very nice and polite, and I thank you also for your consideration and your kindness, and your obvious care for people. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Chris." And she was gone, leaving him alone with the knowledge of his bleak and rather short future.



Chapter 2:


"Chris, how are you? Are you OK? I came as soon as they told me that you were hurt, but they told me not to tell anyone else. Why would they do that? What about your family, surely they should know. Tara and your mother think that you are still with Jason. How come you aren't?"
"Slow down Elaine, I'm surprised your brain can work fast enough to shoot out that many questions that fast." He always acted like that to everyone, but his friends all took it in good humour knowing it was only jest, especially as he did it to himself as well. Elaine more than all others knew how false it was, she knew how he really felt for her, and she was in some ways his best and closest friend. In fact, the only things that stopped them being best friends were the fact that they didn't have that many common pursuits, his feelings for her -- which put up a kind of barrier between them, and the fact that she was Tara's best friend. He knew that she had been friends with Tara before him, and he didn't want to get in the way of their friendship, so the only time they spent together was when she wasn't with Tara or doing other personal or work related things. Despite these things though, they were still very close, and spent what time they could with each other.
"How are 'you'? he asked her. She was the most important thing in the world to him, and so he wanted to know that she was alright, before he got around to lying to her about himself.
"I'm fine, you're the one in hospital! So are you OK, or not?"
"I'm peachy!" Normally not a word to pass his lips if you paid him, but she said it all the time, and he liked winding her up by stealing her words.
"Here, sit down. Or are you still standing so your tall enough to see over the bed? Ouch!" He looked at her in mock reproach as he rubbed his bruised shoulder where she had hit him.
"I'm still injured though, you know."
"Oh. Yeah, sorry, I forgot. Did I hurt you?" She looked sufficiently contrite, so he decided that he'd let her off the long, drawn out complaining that he had been about to send forth.
"No, don't worry, I'll just lie here in pain and be quiet. Only joking. The hospital told you not to tell anyone cause i asked them to. They told me i should have someone here to keep me company, and i didn't want my family knowing, as they'd only worry, and your the only person I can trust to keep it to yourself, so I asked for you. As for not being at Jason's still, we had an argument and I left rather abruptly. Hence the fact that i'm here. I must say, I did drive a bit recklessly."
"What was your argument about? Do you want to talk about it?" She looked at him, care and genuine worry for him exuding from her, but as usual, he could not get past the pity he saw in her eyes every-time she looked at him. She had had that pity in her eyes ever since the night when he had told her he loved her. She had given him lots of reasons for why it wouldn't work, but never once had she told him the real reason for not wanting to be with him. She didn't love him. They both knew it, but neither would put it into words, and so he looked at her longingly, she looked at him with pity, and their friendship continued. She knew it hurt him, but not the full extent of that pain. It was far greater then any tumour could ever be!
"It was nothing. Silly, really, now that I look back on it." He stopped for a moment, then looked her in the eyes, and when he next spoke, his voice was full of sadness and regret, though she didn't understand why.
"Why is it that we spend so much of our lives doing pointless things, arguing over small things and making them big, spending so much of out time at odds with those we care about most? Life is short, why do we waste it?" His eyes were pleading with her, begging her for an answer.
She thought for a moment, then answered. "Because there is always tomorrow. We argue today because we know that there is always tomorrow for being friends again. I know that it is stupid, and it means that we spend so much time being angry when there is no need, but life to a human being is a long thing, and so we don't really understand that life isn't forever till it is to late. Then come the regrets, similar to what your having now.
"Why so bleak today? Your young, you've got your whole life ahead of you. Your talking like your eighty and death is at your door. Be like others, argue now, make up later. It's human nature."
'If only you knew' he thought. He laughed. More irony. He could have really enjoyed today, if it wasn't for the fact that someone had just told him that he had at most a month to live.
"I guess your right Elaine, I guess your right."
"By the way, I was sure you'd be worried about your bike, so I checked it out."
The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Normally he was obsessed about his bike, and she knew that well, but he had more important things on his mind today; like death. 'But wait, this was yet more irony' he thought, 'perfect. Well, in a situation like this, you either laugh or you cry. He laughed again.
"Yes, of course I was wondering." He lied in answer to her question.
"Yes, well, anyway, I checked it out. I'm afraid it was totaled in the crash. I'm sorry, Chris, I know how much you liked that bike. It was all you had left from your father." She put her hand on his, and kissed him on the cheek. 'If she's doing that over my bike being totaled, she'd probably sleep with me if I told her the truth' he thought, with a smile.
"Why are you smiling so much," she asked, suspiciously, "I just told you that your favourite thing in the world is recked beyond repair!"
"Second favourite." he said, without thinking. She quickly looked away, and he cursed his big mouth. "Anyway, a bike isn't that important, it's just a thing. Possessions can always be replaced." He told her.
She looked up at him curiously, her sadness forgotten. "Are you sure your not ill? You're in a very strange mood today. Is there something your not telling me?"
"No." He lied again. "Can't a man just be different when he feels like it."
"If you want." She squeezed his hand gently, comfortingly.



Chapter 3:


After he had been released from the hospital, he went home on the bus with Elaine. She had spent the night with him at the hospital, despite him telling her she should go home, where she would be more comfortable. "If you can stay here, so can I." She had said.
"Stubborn woman." He had called her, though really he was pleased that she wanted to stay and be with him.
He wasn't really there on the drive home, and didn't really concentrate on what she was saying, or on his own replies. He was thinking about life; his father who had gone off with another woman a little while ago; his mother and sister who were distraught by this, and constantly arguing with each other; Elaine, whom he loved more then anything, and who felt his pain as if it were her own, but who now he would never be with, and indeed may never see again. 'Why do we spend our lives hurting those we love? Why cannot we spend them helping each other and working together' he asked himself.
When the bus dropped them off, he walked Elaine home, pacing quietly beside her. They always looked funny together, him being tall as he was, her short as she was. He couldn't help mentally measuring people's height. Some of his favourite jokes were about height.
When they arrived at her house, they stood for a moment in silence, contemplating each other. Though they rarely saw each other, their friendship was very intimate, and they could talk about almost anything together, if not quite everything. Chris wasn't very good at displaying emotions, or physical intimacy, but impulsively he hugged her and held her tight. He loved her so much that it hurt, and to know that all the time he had left with her was a month was devastating. He ached to tell her, but he didn't want her to pity him more then she already did, and he knew that it would be extremely hard for her to cope with, if he told her now, when she would have to see him everyday for the next month, while she was with his sister, and know that he was dying. It would be hard enough for her when it happened, but he could do nothing about that. He could spare her the pain now, though, so that her last days with him would be remembered with joy, not with worry and fear.
He finally broke the silence. "Goodnight." he said.
"Night" she replied, turning to go inside, although she looked like she wanted to say more.
Then he could help it no more. He caught her in an embrace, and held her close to him. He was starting to cry.
"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.
"Goodbye," he said, "Goodluck. I love you." Then he kissed her once, turned, and ran home.
When he got home, he wiped his eyes and went through the door.



Chapter 4:


He went inside, and saw his sister in the lounge. "Hello, Tara." He said.
"Oh, hi Chris," she replied, looking over at him. "Mum's in the kitchen making dinner. I wouldn't go too near her if I were you though, she's in a foul mood."
"Thanks for the advice sis, but I think i'll brave it and say hi to her."
"Be it on your head then."
He slowly walked into the kitchen.
"Hello, mum, how are you?"
"I'm fine." She said, in the icy tone she always used when she was pissed off. "Where have you been? Where's your bike, i didn't here it drive up?"
"I was at Johny's, and I left my bike there."
"You left it?!" her tone was incredulous. She also knew how much he loved his bike, and apparently the thought of him leaving it anywhere was enough to bring her out of her mood.
"Yeah, I decided that i should start paying less attention to material things, and more to the important things in life, like people."
"'You' Where did this sudden change of heart come from?"
"Oh, you know, here and there." He looked at her seriously. "You know mum, you and Tara should stop arguing with each other all the time. You both love each other, you're both suffering for the same reasons, and this constant arguing is only hurting you both. Why not put it behind you and move on? Make up, and help each other through it, don't make it worse for each other."
"Oh shut up and don't interfere. Who made you mother Teresa? Now, tell your sister that dinner is ready."
He went to tell Tara, and they set down to eat.
All through dinner he was thinking about all of the things he should have done with his life, all the things he should have said, and the things he shouldn't have, the places he should've been, the things he should have done. When dinner was over, he got up and went to see his friends. As he was leaving, his mother called to him, "Where are you going, you should be doing your homework. The holidays are almost over, and you have a lot of work to do before you go back to collage."
As the door closed behind him, she could hear him laughing, and laughing, and laughing.
His visits to his friends were nothing special. They did what they always did; play on the computer and talk about pointless things, while smoking a few joints. He said goodbye to them one by one, and then went home.
When he got there, everything was dark and his mother and sister were going off to bed. As they were going upstairs, he said to them both, "Goodbye. Goodluck. I love you."
He got ready for bed himself, but just as he was going up, he heard a knock at the door. It was Elaine.
"I couldn't part like that," she said, hugging him.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"It's nothing." he replied evasively. She looked at him in that way she had, with her eyebrows raised slightly, telling him without words that she knew he was lying to her.
"I know I shouldn't ask, but will you come to bed with me? Just as a friend I mean, just to keep me company, just to hold me. I don't feel like being alone, I need comfort tonight, and your the one person in the world who gives it to me. Please? I promise, it's just friendship."
"Of course. I know it is. If you need me, you know i'm here for you. In the name of friendship." She added.
They went upstairs, and climbed into bed. They talked for a while as they lay there, then lapsed into a comfortable silence.
With a clarity that is so rare for humans, but so certain, he saw that there was no month, this was it. This night was all he had. With that in his mind, he turned to Elaine, and said, "I love you. With all my heart, I love you. I love you more then life itself, and not even death will stop me loving you. Remember that. Not even death."
She looked him full in the eyes, and said, "And I you. I love you also Chris. And for now we are together with our love. Speak not of death, speak not of the future, for now we are together." And she pulled him closer to her and held him tight.
He started to shake uncontrollably.
"What's wrong?" she asked him once again.
"Nothing. Nothing at all," he said, drifting into sleep in her arms, "for we are together now and that is all that matters. Nothing. Not even death."