This is a pretty late response, but I just unlocked your review. :x Thanks for the response; it’s very helpful. But you said that one character seems on the brink of suicide? It’s not really what I was going for, though self destructive is certainly part of his character. Thanks for pointing that out.
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Short Story / Post-Crisis, short version (Analysis)
1.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the first thing he hears when he wakes and the only thing existing for far too long. His eyelids are too heavy to open and he cannot feel a thing. The distinct smell of latex gloves and hospital make its way past the plastic tube in his nostrils, turning his stomach inside out. He never has liked hospitals, not since he was young and spending more time in a sick bed than his own.
He has no idea why he’s here now, too drugged to even lift a finger. As he becomes more aware of his condition, he starts to hear everything—the way the heart monitor sounds every time his heart beats, the person at his bedside breathing, and the respirator breathing for him. “Christian,” the smoke scratched tenor breathes beside his ear. “It’s Jamie. Can you hear me?” Christian wants to say yes, yes he can, just don’t say another word—but his mouth doesn’t move.
Maybe the drugs are making Christian hallucinate; in the five years they’ve been friends, to use the word lightly, Jamie has never visited. Jamie constantly makes caustic remarks and blows smoke into Christian’s sallow face; he’s always distant and uncaring and cold—so why is he here? Christian almost thinks Jamie is a dream, except that there are fingers clutching his hand, fingerprints searing into his palm as if Christian will open his eyes if Jamie just holds tight enough.
“I just wanted to say. . .” Jamie pauses. Christian doesn’t want to hear this, not coming from Jamie. “I’m sorry.” He squeezes Christian’s hand and lets it go. Christian can’t stand to hear his footsteps walk away and the door close behind them. The visitation should be comforting, except that this is Jamie. Maybe the drugs are causing Christian nightmares because in the five years he has known him, Jamie has never apologized.
2.
Christian opens his eyes to see his father’s graying head lying on the scratchy white bedding by his thigh. He reaches out and touches the peppered strands. The pulse monitor clipped to his finger taps the man’s head gently. “Dad,” Christian croaks around the tube in his throat. “Dad,” he whispers hoarsely, his hand falling onto his father’s shoulder.
The older man stirs groggily and turns his head and looks up at his son. Christian smiles weakly, but doesn’t do much else before his father lunges forward and pulls his body into a death grip. “Christian, thank God,” his father chokes, “I was so scared. I thought you were about to sleep forever and my last words would have been out of anger. I’m so sorry, Chris.” Christian is too tired to respond, but he has other things on his mind. Everyone around him is apologizing profusely, only. . .
He has no idea what they are apologizing for.
3.
The last thing Christian recalls is partnering with Katelyn Sanders for the Chemistry lab. His fingers fumble with the knot of his lab apron and he sits across the lab table from the prettiest girl in his class. Katelyn flashes him a smile while she sets up the Bunsen burner. “Thanks for being my lab partner,” she tells him, brushing strands of honey blonde hair away from her safety goggles.
“No problem,” Christian replies with a shrug, his eyes averted. “Jamie’s not here, so I don’t have a partner anyway…” Christian trails off as he picks up the matchbook.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about him,” Katelyn declares. Christian’s hand with the match shakes as he strikes it. “I mean, you’re close to him, right? How does a sweet guy like you become best friends with a delinquent like Jamie?”
Christian sighs, tired of defending Jamie to others, and insists, “He’s not so bad when you get to know him.”
“Really? I don’t know who would take the abuse you do. Jamie smokes like a chimney and uses you to get out of class,” Katelyn points out. Christian is about to retort, but he then he realizes that Katelyn is right; everyone knows that he’s sick and that Jamie doesn’t really need to accompany him to get his meds. “I mean, what is he to you? What’s your relationship, exactly?”
The first thing Christian doesn’t remember is his reply.
4.
Christian lies awake in bed as Jamie flips the pages of a magazine. He peaks at Jamie’s unshaven face and studies him silently. Jamie’s blond hair is longer than usual, but still shorter than Christian’s thin brunet strands. His left hand toys with his lighter and his tired eyes dart towards Christian every so often, but he doesn’t say a thing.
Just when Christian begins to think the silence is unbearable, a soft knock sounds on the doorway. “May I come in?” a girl’s voice asks tentatively, though the door is wide open. Christian nearly gets whiplash turning his head to look at Katelyn. She grins nervously with a glance at Jamie, who prefers to ignore her presence. Christian is incredibly glad that he is no longer feeding from a tube or breathing with assistance.
“Of course! Come in, Kate,” Christian smiles as he struggles to sit up in bed. Jamie reaches across him, gently pushing him back and adjusting the bed into an upright position with the remote control. Without a word, he pushes past Katelyn to loiter in the hallway, casting dark glances over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” Christian admits.
“Maybe I should go,” Katelyn worries with a glance out the doorway.
“Stay,” Christian pleads. “Jamie doesn’t control my life.”
Katelyn smiles gently. She asks, “Do you remember what you told me?”
I know Jamie isn’t the nicest person. “No.” But he’s my best friend, my only friend. “I don’t.” Actually, he’s more than that. “What did I say?” To me, Jamie is freedom.
“You said lots of things,” Katelyn assures him quietly. “‘Jamie doesn’t control my life’ wasn’t one of them.”
5.
Because Jamie missed the lab that day, Chris brings the homework to Jamie’s house and completes it there while Jamie sits on the kitchen counter, lighting a fresh Lucky Strikes. “What’s that?” he questions idly, breathing out smoke.
“Chemistry homework,” Chris mutters as he checks his calculations.
“Oh yeah. That lab was today, huh. Sorry.”
“No problem,” Chris replies. He scribbles a conclusion on the worksheet and continues, “I should be thanking you. Katelyn was my partner.”
“Really now,” Jamie drawls.
“Yeah. It was nice, talking to someone else for a change. I like her.” Jamie’s shadow falls over Chris. He doesn’t have the chance to turn around before Jamie snubs his barely-smoke cigarette on the page. “What the hell!” Chris exclaims, dropping his pen. He glares daggers at his so-called best friend.
“Whoops,” Jamie deadpans, though he wears a satisfied grin. “I hope that wasn’t worth too many points.” Chris huffs and turns his attention to his burnt notebook.
There isn’t a fire, thank God, but there is a large spot burnt through pages and pages in Chris’s notebook. He gives up and shoves everything back into his backpack. He scolds himself silently; he smells like smoke now, and his homework for the past three months is ruined. This is what he gets for being Jamie’s best friend. Chris isn’t sure why he puts up with it. Jamie doesn’t care about anything. But because of that, Jamie is the only person who doesn’t treat him like glass, and he gives Chris a taste of freedom that only he has.
6.
The kitchen light is on when Chris comes home. He groans and attempts to sneak past his dad, but he’s only just past the kitchen doorway when his dad calls out to him to stop. He does so with a heavy sigh. “Where were you?” the man asks, looking his son in the eye.
“Jamie’s,” Chris grits.
“I don’t want you associating with that boy anymore,” his dad orders, voice tight.
“I’m seventeen! I might be sick, but I can do what I want!” Chris exclaims.
His dad’s eyes flash angrily. “Don’t raise your voice at me,” he warns.
Chris glares at him. “I’m going to my room,” he declares. He does just that, slamming the door behind him. He tosses his smoke-perfumed backpack across the room and bangs open a desk drawer. Chris pulls out a half empty carton snatched from Jamie’s garage and lights up. He exhales, but it’s not relieving the knot in his chest. Everything that has happened recently, the worsening of his condition, the week just spent at the hospital, Jamie landing detention this morning, and then burning his Chemistry notebook. . . On top of it all, no matter how much Chris likes Katelyn, her prodding earlier was really irritating.
“What is he to you?” she asked. Like he’s supposed to know what that means. Chris exhales again, impatiently playing with the cigarette in his fingers. He’s stressed, he’s guilty, he’s a dying man. Why can’t something take it all away?
7.
Chris is at his desk redoing his lab notebook when Jamie climbs into the room and perches on the open windowsill. Chris panics and hits his head on the desk lamp when Jamie says hello. “What are you doing here?” Chris hisses as he turns around to face Jamie.
“Naomi kicked me out. I was wondering if I could stay here,” Jamie says, calling his mother by her name, as usual. He looks everywhere but at Chris.
“No way!” Chris shrieks. He’s facing Jamie with his back to his desk, fingers gripping the ledge so tightly he can feel the knuckles turn white. Then he lowers his voice. “My dad hates you!”
“Then what do you suggest I do?” Jamie meets Chris’s eyes. Chris finds himself lost for words. Jamie sighs deeply, raking his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I’m thinking of just taking off. I mean, I am of legal age.” For some reason, Chris can’t imagine life without Jamie. He isn’t sure if he even wants to. “So, come with me.”
“Huh?” It’s the only intelligent response Chris can think of.
Jamie holds his hand out. “I mean, you can stay if you want, hold down the fort and all that, but. . .” He trails off, trying not to sound hopeful. “I’d really like you to come.” Chris has never seen him so vulnerable. There’s no other reason that prompts him to accept Jamie’s hand.
8.
“Jameson Riley,” Christian hears his dad seethe from around the corner. Christian struggles out of bed and hobbles to the doorway, pulling his IV with him. Halfway down busy the hallway he sees his dad with Jamie, looking similarly tired and gaunt. His dad has never liked Jamie; he constantly refers to Jamie as a heart attack waiting to happen.
“Mr. Hayes,” Jamie greets with cool politeness.
“What are you doing here?” Christian’s dad spits. “You’re the reason he’s here in the first place!”
“You seem to forget that your son is a leukemia patient, Mr. Hayes. He would be in here either way, wouldn’t he? Chris told me he was getting worse, that you were looking for a marrow donor,” Jamie retorts spitefully. “You know Chris hates being treated.”
“My son almost died because he left with you!” Christian’s dad throws out. “What were you thinking, dragging Chris along with you when you left your home? I don’t care if you’re eighteen; that doesn’t make you and adult, and it doesn’t mean you can commandeer the life of your so-called friend!”
Christian watches Jamie’s mouth tighten at the implication.
“I want,” Jamie voices shakily, “Whatever’s best for Chris.”
Christian’s dad sets his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and says so softly Christian nearly can’t hear, “I think it would be best if you left him alone.”
9.
“I’m stupid,” Chris coughs violently into his fist. He huddles in his jacket in the passenger seat of Jamie’s car and his entire body aches worse than ever. They are almost at the beach now, and he can see the stars above them. “I’m dying. Didn’t even bring my medication. You’ll bury me on the beach, won’t you? It’s always been my dream, a beachside funeral.”
“Of course,” Jamie tells Chris, dry voice strangely sincere. He drives one handed, elbow resting on the door, smoke turning to wisps in the wind. “Christian, you know you’re my best friend, right?” He brings his cigarette back to his lips and grips it there so he can use a free hand to roll up the windows and canvas top.
“Well, I know I’m your only friend,” Chris teases, sitting up. He wraps his arms tighter around his aching body; the cold makes it worse, and the heater doesn’t work.
“You’re the only reason I stick around, you know,” Jamie grins in Chris’ direction. He notices Chris’ trembling and digs in his pocket, handing him his prescription bottle with only five pills left. Chris pries open the lid and pops a pill, half hoping Jamie’s telling the truth. The other half of him hopes Jamie is lying, because the fact that Jamie actually cares is frightening.
0.
Christian hates the hospital. He hates the waiting, the food, everything. He’s lived half of his life here and doesn’t care anymore for living if all he gets when he is out are classmates who whisper at his back. The psychiatrist explains to his dad it is common for patients to feel despondent, but Christian just wants to scream that they don’t understand anything. Christian hates this hospital most of all because he’s stuck here instead of out there riding shotgun in Jamie’s Mustang, going wherever the wind takes them.
But he’s bedridden and Jamie is sitting at his bedside, saying nothing, fingers drumming relentlessly on his chair’s wooden arm. Christian couldn’t sleep if he wanted, because the sound is so loud, the sound of a caged bird forever rustling its wings.
“Chris,” Jamie says at length. Christian doesn’t say a thing. “I know you’re awake. Listen, I just want to apologize.” His voice wavers. That show of emotion is exactly why Christian refuses to answer. Jamie reaches over and clasps Christian’s hand in his own and squeezes. “I didn’t mean for you to end up here. I just wanted to do something for you before I left. You told me once the last time you went to the beach was with your mom before she died, so I thought… well, it doesn’t matter.
“I was going to take you home in the morning, I swear. I wasn’t about to run away with you. You hadn’t packed, and you were going to change your mind in the morning anyway. For all your rebelliousness, you wouldn’t leave your dad for anything.
“But I didn’t expect it to be so cold. It was just one night, but in the morning your lips were blue, and oh God, I didn’t think I could get you here fast enough. Severe hypothermia by the time you were hospitalized. My fault for taking a leukemic kid to the beach on a winter night.” Jamie gasps wetly, and Christian realizes he is weeping. Jamie, the most difficult, maladjusted man he has ever met is weeping. It’s another reason for hating the hospital; it has turned the Jamie he knows into something else entirely.
Suddenly, Christian knows exactly what Jamie is here to say. “Don’t,” he whispers, as if it will stop Jamie’s tears. Instead Jamie just looks through them into Christian’s wide open eyes. “Please don’t.”
“You’re going to live,” Jamie tells him. “They found a donor who is as close to perfect as you can get. I know you hate chemo, you had it before, but in the long run it will make things better. Just don’t smoke anymore. Promise?”
“Pr-Promise,” Christian stumbles.
“And,” Jamie continues, “You’re going to go back to school. Even though the recovery will take a while, you’ll still be able to graduate. You can have the gown Naomi ordered for me; I’m not going to use it. I already gave it to your dad.”
“Alright,” he murmurs.
“And,” Jamie starts, then stops. He looks ashamed and embarrassed and angrily jealous all at once. “Go to prom. Take Katelyn. I know you like her. I made sure she’d hold out for you, and the student council is waiving your fee.”
“Jamie…” Christian trails off. It’s his turn to choke. Christ, he hates this. Jamie is giving him everything he ever wanted, but only because he’s leaving. Jamie stands and steps away. “Please don’t go,” Christian pleads.
“Make me stay,” Jamie orders.
“How do I do that?” Christian cries out. He can’t stop his own tears and grips Jamie’s hand hard. “Stay, Jamie! You’re the best friend I have, and I need you here!” Jamie visibly hesitates, but he doesn’t change his mind. “What did you mean?” Christian blurts, changing tactics. “When you said I’m the only reason you’re still around?” Christian thinks he knows the answer, but he wants to keep Jamie in his life at least a moment longer.
“Don’t you know,” Jamie quavers, “How Naomi sleeps around on her absent husband? And when Anders comes home on leave, he’s awful. My parents couldn’t care less what I do. You know how many times I could have killed myself? If it weren’t for you, Chris, I think I would have.
“I love you,” Jamie confesses. Something breaks, allowing Christian’s heart to plunge into his stomach and weigh like a thousand bricks. His fingers loosen and fall slack away from Jamie’s. “Yeah, see? I thought as much.”
“It’s not that,” Christian splutters, reaching for Jamie’s fingers again to show he doesn’t care. “I don’t care about that.” Jamie just shakes his head and pulls away.
“I’ve got to go,” he murmurs, swiping at his eyes. “Bye Chris.”
Christian’s heart aches and he wants Jamie to stay because he can’t imagine life without him, he doesn’t even want to. . .
Except that this is the first time in five years—no, his whole life—that Christian has been so happy.
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Foster reviewed Version 2 -
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Perhaps it’s the formatting, but this seems like an awkward read. There are elements of the story that are a little jumbled and disorienting. You could pare it down a little more if it needs to be shorter. This is probably too late in coming, but if the contest is specific to the subject matter I think it was put together well enough to waylay the climactic confession until the end and take your reader by surprise. The conclusion is a little hurried, if not wholly inconclusive, and if you successfully trim a word here or there, perhaps some closure would be a good addition. The time frame of the narrative is the hardest to decipher. Clearer transitions would help, but again, that could be formatting. Good luck.
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mascheriad reviewed Version 2 -
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it wasn’t bad but this much i will say i had a hard time keep up with who was talking to another person and who was just haveing the thoughts with themselfs,other then that it gave me a reason to want to read more.
saveusjeebus reviewed Version 2 -
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This is coming along nicely.
Here are my faults with it: It’s veering melodramatic, particularly with the person dying of leukemia and the other person teetering on suicide. Those two things arent necessarily wrong by themselves, but they make for a slippery slope to melodrama. The last page or so is the perfect example, really easy to slip into that sort of thing at the end. Also, never use italics to emphasize a sentence (using them to offset a voice or separate monologue is fine) because that just reeks of pulp. I think you only did that once.
Here is what I like: Bits of melodrama aside, you have set up a very interesting connection – a dying person who wants to live and another who wants to die, connected in an interesting friendship. The main plotline is just about perfect. I think the characters need to be slightly more fleshed out through their actions, rather than just the narration. Most of the story elements seem well done, and my favorite line was about how Jamie didn’t treat him like glass. That was incredibly effective and said a lot. I won’t waste too many more of your credits, you can always message me if youd like more in depth commentary.
Oh, and thank you for requesting me to review
andersda reviewed Version 1 -
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This 360 word review has not been unlocked.
metaphoricalsimile reviewed Version 1 -
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There should be a comma between ”...when he wakes, and the only…” Also, the second clause of that sentence contradicts the rest of the paragraph. Since he can explore his surroundings by smell, he realizes that other things exist as well.
“brunet” should be “brunette.”
Section 4 could use a clue early in the section to reveal that they are still in a hospital room.
You use italics to show the things which happened in the past, relative to the framework of the story, but I think you should also write those sections in past tense. I think you’re trying to use present tense to give the scenes he is remembering immediacy, so it’s a stylistic choice, but memories don’t often have that sharp immediacy.
You have a typo here: “that doesn’t make you and adult” replace the “and” with “an.”
I like the ending. I really, really like that you didn’t have Jamie be Christian’s marrow donor; I’d been expecting it ever since the word “leukemia” was mentioned in the story, and it would have been too easy.
Fallstar reviewed Version 1 -
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This was a really, really saddening story. I loved it.
You really get the whole illness thing. It’s repeated, but not overly much – just enough to remind you that it’s there. And there’s bits where you repeat key points through several parts, and that really makes them stand out.
I think using someone else to question a relationship between people is great. This gives it this better air, because even the characters are undecided yet. This lets the reader think and guess alot easier.
Admittedly, the ending is a little predictable – not bad predictable, more kind of satisfyingly predictable – but works well as an end to the whole story.
As for what else could be cut, I’m not sure. It works well as a tight little story as it is, and I don’t know if you could cut anything else without ruining the atmosphere and build-up.
Well written. Really plays on your emotions and such well, and you cna really engage with the characters. A little tightening up on grammar is needed, and there are a few repetitive words, but otherwise very well done.
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