A CHANGE
JOSH PRESENT DAY
I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over Luke’s name in my contacts. The thought of skipping practice felt like a betrayal to the team, to everything I’d worked so hard for–but today, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t go through the motions, pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t.
Luke picked up on the second ring.
“Hey man, what’s up?” His voice was casual, but I could hear the background noise of the gym, the faint echo of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the low hum of chatter.
“Hey, man,” I started, already feeling guilty. “I need a favor.”
Luke groaned dramatically. “Look man. I get you are in a tough spot but you need to start getting your shit together. For Asha…”
“It’s not like that,” I interrupted, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just… I need today, okay? Just one day. I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll make it up to you and everyone else.”
The silence on the other end stretched long enough to make me uncomfortable.
“Luke,” I added, my voice dropping lower, “I really need this.”
There was a pause, then a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’ll cover for you. But, Josh-”
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I know. I cut him off. “I need to get my shilt together. That’s what I’m doing, okay? That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.“..
Another pause, then he muttered “You better, man.”
I know. Thanks, Luke.”
The call ended, and I dropped my phone onto the counter with a clatter, exhaling a shaky breath. My chest already felt tight, like the weight of everything was pressing down harder today than usual.
I moved to the dining table where my laptop sat open. The glow of the screen felt harsh against the early morning light filtering through the blinds. My inbox was pulled up, and at the top sat an email I’d been dreading to open.
From: Dr. Harrington
Subject: Update on Progress
My hand trembled slightly as I clicked it open. The words blurred together for a moment before I forced myself to focus, reading each line carefully.
Good day,
I hope this message finds you well, though I understand the circumstances remain challenging.
I wanted to provide you with the latest update regarding Laura’s condition based on her most recent scans and assessments.
Unfortunately, there has been no significant improvement in her overall state. Her brain activity, while still present, has shown a gradual decline over the past few months. I believe it’s
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important to be transparent with you–while we continue to monitor her closely and provide the best care possible, the likelihood of her regaining consciousness is extremely low.
I know this is not easy to hear, and I want to emphasize that we will continue to support Laura and your family in every way we can. However, as her medical team, we feel it’s our
responsibility to prepare you for the possibility that she may not
recover.
That being said, I have seen cases where patients defy the odds, and I do not wish to take away any hope you may hold onto. Miracles can and do happen.
Please don’t hesitate to reach out with any questions, concerns, or if you need someone to talk to during this time.
Sincerely,
Dr. Elizabeth Harrington
My eyes scanned the email again, the words sinking deeper into my chest like knives. “No significant improvement.” “Likelihood of regaining consciousness is extremely low.” I swallowed hard, my throat tightening with every line.
I should’ve been used to this by now–used to the weight of bad news. But no matter how many times I heard the words, it never stopped hurting.
I leaned back in my chair, glancing across the room to where Asha lay on her back in her playpen. Her little feet kicked at the air as she giggled at the rainbow mobile dangling above her.
She had Laura’s laugh.
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My chest ached as I watched her this perfect little girl who had no idea how broken her family really was. She didn’t know that her mom might never come back That her dad was barely holding it together, barely able to function most days.
I closed my laptop and dragged a hand over my face, trying to keep myself together. But the weight of it all–Asha’s innocence, Laura’s absence, the crushing guilt that I couldn’t do anything to fix it–made it almost impossible to breathe.
How did it come to this?
I stood and walked over to Asha, crouching down beside the playpen. She turned her head toward me, her tiny face lighting up in a way that made my heart twist painfully.
“Hey, princess,” I.murmured, reaching through the bars to brush a stray curl from her forehead. She cooed at me, her little hands flailing toward my fingers.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I wish I could make this better. I wish I could fix everything for you. For her.”
Asha just giggled, oblivious to the tears that slipped down my cheeks.
I leaned my forehead against the edge of the playpen, my hands gripping the sides tightly.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I muttered to myself. “Something has to change. I have to change. For her. For you.”
Asha kicked her legs again, babbling happily, and I forced a shaky smile, trying to match her energy.
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One step at a time.
That’s all I could do.
