Merical | Teen Ink

Merical

April 14, 2021
By Arthea, Turner, Maine
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Arthea, Turner, Maine
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Favorite Quote:
"Stone Walls do not a prison make,
Nor Iron bars a Cage;"
~ Richard Lovelace


Author's note:

I wrote this story for two friends of mine. I had hope that they both would understand how much her life mattered. Sometimes we watch the whole pass- thinking we can't amount to much of anything. We constantly keep comparing ourselves to others who are already standing on pedestals. Only to stand on the pedestal; you still have to climb the stairs.
Though these two girls, which I earlier mention, do not know each other personally. I believe if they ever met, they would immediately become friends. To the reader, I hope you understand that sometimes you are the miracle someone has prayed for before.

The author's comments:

Sometimes we need a miracle. Sometimes we think we have to wait for a miracle. Other times we are the miracle God sent for others. My life has never been perfect; it may look like a pile of clay left to sit. All the changes, all the trials, and all the fears I had to overcome made me see things I might have never realized. Life is never easy; change is bound to come in time. For some odd reason, I could never avoid the word: change. It was the meaning of my name and the description of my life. I remember crying to God for a miracle. I remember the fear of what I might become if none came. Only now do I realize miracles are not always in things. Sometimes miracles come from others. Sometimes you are the miracle someone is praying for. Sometimes you just need to begin again. After all, Miracles are needed in the end.

She opened her eyes that morning and realized this was her last week of being alive.

Today is June 28. 

I watched the sunset from my window knowing it might be my last. Any day could be my last, so why not watch the sunset while you can? I saw as the gold melted into the violet light before the navy blue turned to darkness. I listen to my heartbeat on the monitor by my bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Having to listen to that sound for my whole life- I was surprised that I was not deaf. As the stars began to shimmer in the unknown darkness, I stared about my tiny room. It was identical to some hospital rooms, but with the pictures decorating the walls it seemed more like home. 

The dresser by the left wall. The closet next to the door where a wheelchair was parked. I looked at the numerous memories of my life of eleven years. My eleven precious years of what could’ve been more. What could it have been? What would I become if I could live beyond eleven years? 

The picture frames made of sea glass, seashells, and driftwood covered the wall with paintings and pictures. They reminded me that I had a life. Bookshelves filled with books of every kind of adventure known. A life so long ago, it felt as if it had been in another lifetime.

 Those days I got to explore a little bit of the vast world. I had made most of these frames bedridden; only after all the books in my little library were well-read. I had drawn and painted pictures of what the world beyond the bed was. Paintings of mountains and valleys with dragons flying overhead. Campfires and smores with music playing in the background. I painted them with such fine detail that I smelled the campfire smoke and tasted the melting chocolate. Then it all vanished. The memories of the laughter and smiles all but disappeared. My happy smile turned determined and ready for war when I saw the calendar marking the date Monday, July 2nd. Fear gripped my heart as panic swelled from within me. My hands shook and clutched on tight to the blanket on my bed.

“Whatever happens,” I prayed “Lord, if you call me, please take care of them!”

My eyes bore witness of that date, the second of July, two days before my birthday. Two days before a national holiday and two days before people set off fireworks into the night skies. Only July second could be my dying day and I would never turn twelve. If I died two days before my birthday, I would never see the fireworks. July second, the day of the surgery that very well could take my life. I closed my eyes shut and swallowed hard. No, I couldn’t think like that. I had to live. I suddenly understood why people hated Mondays. I forced myself to sleep before tomorrow came. I had hope for pleasant dreams, but instead, I was welcomed by a nightmare. It was the same nightmare for the last four years. It was of a close friend who dreamed of miracles. He claimed they existed, but that was before he died. 

 


“Do you believe in miracles?” he asked me.

I stared at him. Matthew was his name. He was only one year younger than me. His eyes were brown full of wonder and life. He was in his hospital bed reading another spiderman comic. His monitor slowly beeped, as I sat next to him. His skin was pale white and his body was dangerously thin. We were only kids, we didn’t care if we looked dead. We had seen that everywhere in the hospital earlier. 

“Do you believe in miracles?” His voice was lively and young. 

“I don’t know,” I said. Then his heart flatlined and his eyes shut. Suddenly a cold wind broke the window, shattering it. The pages of his comic hit the floor flapping wildly against the wind. I stood there too terrified to move. The wind howled through me, making me feel weak. The world began dissolving in thick, black smoke. It curled like a snake before it attacked straight at me. This was only a dream. It was only a dream that I knew by heart. The smoke would dissolve the memory and me. I would begin to fall into an endless pit of darkness. Then...awake.

 


“Good morning, sweetheart!” she would say before kissing my forehead to awake me. Her voice was always sweet and soft. It reminded me of the feathers of a dove. I would again see her chestnut hair had a few more streaks of white and her face had a few more wrinkles than a woman her age should have. I would feel grateful, yet at the same time a pang of guilt would shoot up through me knowing it was me- who caused so much pain in her life. She reminded me of honey. She was sweet yet strong. She had a scent of cinnamon that followed her everywhere. She was my mother. 

I loved her. She loved me; that single reason is why I kept on living. She would set up my wheelchair before I got out of bed. Since my illness had made me too weak to able to walk. I had a wheelchair for support. I could still walk, but only when the doctors allowed it. They had called me a paradox because no matter what they did nothing changed, but the fact that I was slowly fading away.

 All my friends lived in the hospital when I was younger. Most moved on while others never had that chance. People that came to visit had never found me awake. Many expected me to not live much longer. It hurt, but the fewer people who knew me, the fewer would hurt when I left. 

 I would struggle as my mother would help me climb into the wheelchair in the morning.

  She set my clothes on my lap, for me to get ready for the day, not that it would matter if no one came to visit me. As I said before, I was weak, but I was not infirm. I could still get dressed and ready for the day by myself. Closing the door, I changed with the same difficulty I had every day of my life for the past five years. 

My mother had given me a purple dress which I gave a quizzical look to. I mostly wore dresses; they were much easier to put on and off. This purple dress was my favorite and the most beautiful dress I have ever owned. It was flowy with short shelves. It didn't go low in the front and it might have looked like a simple dress beside the embroidery of purple butterflies that flew about the dress. I felt the embroidered fabric and rough edges of its gemstones. I looked like royalty wearing it. Each butterfly was a new shade of purple and dazzled with dark blue gems that reminded me of stars. They also appeared as fireworks blazing in the sky with dancing butterflies surrounding each blast. I had only seen fireworks once, that was from my hospital window. This year I made it a mission to see them once more. Only I wanted to see them outside my window. I wanted to watch the embers fall onto the ground and kids running about with sparklers. I wanted to be together with my family watching- the colorful display from the outside world.

 


After changing, I headed towards the kitchen, where my mother came and put me in my IV drip ( which I hated). It was painful and exasperating. Every time my mother mixed up the pills and nutrients in the blender, the thought made my insides would curl. The wheezing sound from the blender made my stomach hurl. I needed a feeding tube, but the doctors had claimed it would be too risky with where my tumor was. The tumor they understood, but my other illness was something none of them had ever seen. Something foreign was eating me away from the inside and the worst part was that there was nothing they could do to stop it.

 Another reason I hated the IV drip was the fact that I wanted to throw up during this time. Mother pulled my hair back just in case my insides wanted to vent. I also hated the fact that needles would puncture my skin. Disturbing. Only as time grew on my energy began to diminish. I knew I would be given the IV drips more frequently. The more they gave me the weaker I became. But hey! They are stopping me from dying!

I felt her hands part my hair, carefully she began braiding it into one single beautiful dutch braid. My mother was the best at hair. She worked at a salon until she had me.

“ What was the occasion?” I asked. My mother smiled about to speak but Ryan entered the room before I could receive an answer.

 


Ryan was my only older brother who became my father figure in my life after my father’s unfortunate accident. Ryan played piano and violin. He was almost finished with his fourth year in college for music. Ryan wasn’t a ling-ling, but he sure was a want-to-be. Ling-ling is one of the greatest performers of all time, after all, he practices 40 hours a day.

He had often practiced in my room, but lately, I had never been awake to notice. The sickness was getting worse. 

“Looking good, sis!” he chided with his goofy smile. He was tall and lean with dark blue eyes that seemed to shine like sapphires. He had my mother’s eyes while I had my late father’s emerald eyes. “ Are you coming to see my recital?"

So that was the occasion! How did I not know? The recital at the Grand Chapel! 

“I hope so.” 

He was about to say something, but mom interrupted him by asking if Mia was coming.

Mia Coles, Ryan’s girlfriend, was also in his classes and they were always performing together. She played flute and violin; she was better than Ryan, I’ll say. 

“She’ll be there, but will you be?” Ryan asked. “The fog is heavy on the roads. It’s hard to see the road and-”

I sighed. Ryan had our mother's appearance but not her recklessness. 

 “No worries! We’ll be there after her appointments and I’ll make sure to drive carefully. After all, I made you a promise that I intend to keep.” With a kiss on his cheek, she then hugged him and whispered something in his ear, before he smiled and said something in the same hushed response.

“You’re such a worrywart,” I said as he hugged me.

“And you, my dear sister, need to brush your teeth. The smell is putrid!” he joked. Even though my breath is perfectly alright. Hurrying out the door with his music, leaving words he began to say earlier unsaid. 

My mother laughed, “I guess mint is an acquired scent.”

“Or he has lost his sense of smell,'' I countered. Her phone rang. My mother hurried away and I tried to eat the toast my mother had made, but within minutes I threw it up in the nearest trash bag. This time I saw blood mixed in and quickly turned away. As my mother spoke in the other room I realized it would be a miracle for me to survive the month of June. I had just cleaned myself with a wet rag before my mother came back, throwing it into the trash bin.

“Do you smell something?” she said wrinkling her nose. 

“Really? I don’t smell much of anything?” I closed the lid.

“It smells awful in here! Are you sure that you haven’t lost your sense of smell?”

“Where are we going, Mom?” I asked changing the topic. 

“As I said, to an appointment,” her voice was gentle yet firm. She wasn’t going to tell me.

I didn’t like that she kept saying an appointment. It sounded like sinister planning.

“Yeah, but I don’t dress up for doctor checkups,” I said. 

As she began to undo the needles to the IV drip, she smiled. “Like I said, an appointment, not a doctor visit. It's a surprise that we’ll be late if we don’t hurry along. Come on let's get you in the car. The sooner we leave the better for our senses.”

She was different today; she had a more hopeful attitude and a happier charm. Maybe it was the fact that I might make it through June. Only she hadn’t seen what I had.

As she lumbered me into the car she was singing Michael Buble. She loved his music.

 


We traveled across the hills and mountains of Maine which are everywhere. I fell asleep halfway and was aroused when we reached a log home near a lake. I was covered with a thick blanket though it was late June. I had been sleeping more than usual because I was getting weaker. My body was failing more every day. The treatments at home were not working.

“Where are we?” I questioned. I don’t go out much so this is an adventure for me.

“To your first appointment, “joviality she said. “We’re getting our nails done!” 

I had no idea what she was talking about, but she said it with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t help but laugh and smile. A smile is contagious. 

I entered a whole new world by passing through two wooden doors.

I was suddenly hit with the essence of hair products and nail polish fumes.
“Mom, where-” I started to ask.
“Emily!” A sheer high pitch voice came from a desk. I couldn’t see her behind the tall desk, but I could definitely hear her.
“Emily!” The voice said again in excitement. “I missed you so!”
A woman appeared behind the desk, her hair deep red with gold ends in a ponytail and her heels were black and also gold-tipped. She had full face makeup with noticeable black eyeshadow. She held an iced coffee in her hand and a brush in her other.
“Oh, so this is the famous Emilia!” She spoke with even a higher pitch with excitement. She was getting more excited, and I was only getting more nervous. What did she mean about being famous?
“No worries! I’ll get you both done in time for the music!” She clapped her hands together as if I were her prize possessions. “I’ll have her with Merical.” Her voice was still shrill, but more tolerable. “Oh, you remember June in high school? Merical is her daughter. Remember the time with the pigs, right Emma?”
Emma? Emma who?
My mother laughed and smiled. “How could I forget? We get in trouble for the rest of the year. Oh, Amy, how's life?”
“Oh well, let’s spill the tea while Merical gets her ready, hun.”
They both laughed and I felt awkward watching this woman talk about tea. I did not know this stranger- Amy, nor did I wish to leave my mother's side. Amy didn’t look like a tea girl but more of an ice coffee kinda girl. Maybe it was the small detail that she was holding a Dunkin iced coffee in her hand that made me think that.

“Okay, let's get you to Merical’s station,'' she said while wheeling me by at least a dozen other girls getting their hair and nails worked on. Each one of them was engrossed in conversations.
“I see your mother still hasn’t lost her touch in hair. Yours is beautiful!” Amy complimented.
“Thanks,” I said meekly. That made her smile. Maybe she was okay.
We arrived at an open station where another girl was waiting for us. Blue eyes, blonde highlights, and salon uniform; Merical, I thought. That had to be her. She was much taller than me and looked to be about 18. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t figure it out.
“Okay, you two have fun!” Amy said as she hurried my mom to another station in front of the salon.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly in my chair. Introductions were not my strong point.
“Hello, you must be Emilia!” She gave a smile that made my tense muscles relax.
“What do I do first?” I asked.
“First is the hardest part of this process. Picking a style.” She gave me a book full of pictures of nails. “Now we see what you like the best and we’ll do that!”
“Do you have any favorites?”
She laughed “Plenty of favorites! Would you like to let me show you!”
I nodded.
With that notion, we began flipping through the book with countless styles.
She showed me simple designs to beautiful complex ones. We decided to pick a color that matched my personality. Purple and butterflies. We came down to three choices.
“So which one do you want?” she asked kindly. I started to like this girl.
I chose the violet butterflies in ombre with dark purple to light purple. I loved the color purple and even more butterflies. Butterflies, the symbol for transformation and the living act of miracles. The fact that I was still alive was a miracle in itself. I often thought of myself as a butterfly just in a chrysalis.
As she worked on my nails she began to start a conversation.
“What is your hobby now?” she had asked.
“I am thinking of trying knitting.” I paused for a brief moment before continuing. “I stopped before because I wasn’t good at it, but now I want to try once more.`
“I used to knit when I was your age in school.”
“Really?”
“Yep, it was in third grade and I can still remember how it was done. I just am not that good at it. I never could get over my fear of needles.”
“I don’t blame anyone with a fear of needles. I have to use them every day and it never gets easier.”
“Aww, why so?”
“I am sick and the doctors only know half of it. They use needles to test me and such.”
“That’s not good. Do they know how to make you better though?”
“They can’t. There is no cure.” I said the truth, but it still hurt to acknowledge. “Don’t tell my mother. She says any day a miracle will happen, but I don’t honestly know.”
“Do you believe in miracles?”
I thought for a moment. This was a cursed question it seemed.
“A while back a friend asked me that. I had answered him back then with yes’.”
“That was then? What is your answer now?” she probed.
“I honestly do not know if miracles are real,” I answered honestly. “I hear about them but never really see them. How can they be real if they don’t appear?”
“That is where faith comes in,” she began. “You see this bracelet? It’s a simple remember for me to remember that with faith also comes hope.”
It was a simple royal blue wool band with clear white words saying FAITH written on it.
“How do you know you have faith?”
She smiled, “When you believe in what you cannot see.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“The traffic is bound to be bad today being that it’s a holiday weekend and that this fog still hasn’t cleared,” Amy said across the other side of the store Merical and Emilia.
“I know. I’ll be careful and leave early.”
“I don’t know how you do it, girl. It’s one thing after another.”
“I know, And with Ryan planning on proposing to Mia tonight things might be relaxed for one night.”
“Ohhh! I can’t wait!” Amy squealed with excitement before she softly asked. “Does Emilia know?”
“No, we have kept it secret for tonight. Ryan wants to surprise her. He wants her to be there before tomorrow.”
A silence settled between the two friends.
“Are you okay with her having the surgery?” Amy whispered. “I know you're just trying to be strong and all, but are you sure about this?”
“I can’t just give up on her. I have to be strong and I can’t just fake it. I have to be. If this all ends tomorrow I just want you to know, thank you. I couldn’t have made it without you.”
“I couldn’t have made it without you. I’ll always be there, just give me a call. You know I would give you all I had if I knew it would help.”
“I know. I just don’t want to think about tomorrow.”
“Emily, miracles happen! God is real and He is a master of miracles! I believe it with my whole heart that a miracle is coming your way.”
“Amy, I-” Tears treated, her eyes and a mask of strength began to crumble for a moment.
“No, you said it yourself earlier!” Amy retorted. “You cannot give up! You have a daughter who needs you more than ever and a Ryan who is about to leap into another chapter in life! You have got two amazing children! You have the courage of a dragon and the prowess of a lion! You deserve to say those words, but you also can’t afford to say them. The words ‘I quit’.”
*~*~*~*

“So do you believe miracles do exist?” I asked after she finished.
“I believe with it with all my heart.” Merical said, “With God, anything can happen.”
She gave me her bracelet and put it on my wrist. “Sometimes it’s hard to see the miracle in the hardships, but a good friend of mine had a beautiful saying to hardships.”
“She said, ’A flame of hope glows brightest in the heap of smoke.’
“Did she really say that? What does that mean?”
“Yes, she did.” Merica laughed “ I think it means when all is dark and impossible- God’s light still shines another way.”
“Did she have hardships in her life?”
“Lots of them, but she kept going.”
“Thanks,” I say as my mother begins to come over my way. “I don’t want to give up today.”
My mother didn’t hear me, but as I looked at her I could see she had been crying.
“Emilia you look stunning! I love the purple ombre!”
“Thank you!” I blushed “Merical helped me pick the colors.”
“Thank you so much! They look beautiful!”
‘Oh, it was no problem just come back any time!” Merical said as she began cleaning her area.


Then I wheeled out the door into the car bound to the chapel where Ryan was bound to be. I had been there before and saw the beautiful tapestries and paintings upon the inside walls. The chandlers that hang from the ceiling and the architecture screamed with beauty. The room was enormous and plenty spacious. I felt my heart soar with delight. I hadn’t been able to go to concerts for so long I was enticed, to hear his music again. The smell of sawdust and to feel the heat of the lights and to see the pure determination on the faces of an orchestra in raw concentration. I was scared of the fact, I might fall asleep again because I had been okay in the salon. I should be able to make it through the concert. I long to hear Ryan play the beautiful strings of the violin that sent me back to a time of peace and joy. A time without the fear of dying any day and the dread of what might happen tomorrow.
No, I couldn’t let such thoughts enter my mind and damage my soul. I wanted to hear his music again and more importantly, I wanted to live again. I wanted to not be a burden on my mother and I wanted to go to school again. I just wanted to live.

You truly never realize what you want until you lose it.

We were about two hours away, but we were bound to make it by three. The performance didn’t start till four, and normality would end at about eleven o’clock. 

It would be a long ride, and my mind swarmed with questions that needed answers.

“Mom,” I began. The roads were clear other than the dense fog everything was-. Something was in the middle of the road. It was red? Fire! My mother was talking, but I wasn’t listening to what she was saying. Something had caught my eye in front of us.

"MOM! LOOK OUT!” I cried as the two cars beside us collided head-on. An ugly sound resounded all around as our car didn’t miss it in time. My mother didn’t even have time to react other than stepping on the brakes’ lead foot and all. We crashed, and my world turned upside down.

 

“Do you believe in miracles?'' he asked.

“I think I do, but sometimes I know even miracles are not enough,” I answer truthfully.

 I knew him. His brown eyes question and his tone, young like mine. Tubes and needles riddled our arms as we sat by the hospital window watching the snowfall. 

“I do,” he said. He gave a wide smirk; together we watched the snowfall gently on the winter ground. Then as quickly as it appeared it disappeared, and he began to cough uncontrollably. 

“Matthew,” I called out his name. “Matthew!”

His monitor beeping fast and his coughs turned ragged. Smoke dissolved the scene of my childhood, and a prudent smell of gas overtook my senses. I opened my eyes, only to shut them immediately. The air burned and stung. I was on the ceiling of the car- trapped by a metal beam from a trucker’s load. It was separating my mother and me. It was also on my seatbelt. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming. Pain flooded my senses, conquering fear. 

Mom. I looked towards her but the car roof had caved in the middle dividing us. 

“Mom?” I crooked “Mom? Mom are you there?” 

I waited for a reply. Nothing. 

“Mom!” I cried with my weak voice “Mom are you awake are you alright!”

Nothing. Panicked began to flow. Not my mom no-not mom I couldn’t live with it. 

“Mom” I cried again with desperation “Mom are you there? Mom, say something, please!”

No, God, Please, no, please don’t take my mother! She is all I have. I prayed.

Then she groaned. 

A sudden hope appeared inside my chest. She was alive thank God! 

That was all I got groans of pain, but that was all I needed to know she was still alive. 

“Mom, don’t worry someone will help us just hold on!”

I didn’t know if she could hear me. Serins were blaring from all over. People were screaming but it all seemed so far away. I undid my seatbelt but my legs were caught in it still pinning me upside down. I felt numb and exhausted. I wanted to sleep. 

Bang!

It came from my mother’s side. Someone was there. Someone had heard my cries? 

Bam! BAM! They pounded against my mother’s side door, trying to open it.

My mother’s door opened and a man spoke “Oh my! We Got you! No worries, we got you.”

She was being rescued. 

Only they had been so busy saving her that none of them saw the flames sparking in the oil trunk whose door had landed on the roof of our car. Immediately I saw a liquid begin to flow straight into our car’s engine. Oil. They needed to hurry.

 


I had never admitted before but it was true I was afraid of others dying in front of me. I was told from a young age I didn’t have much time left but that didn’t change my free-spirit life. It wasn’t until Matthew, a boy younger than me, changed my whole view. We often played games in the lobby and ate in the cafeteria that was before the IV drips. I remember him joking and laughing. He had brown eyes that capture light and shone a joy I had almost forgotten. Mischief. 

It was two weeks before Christmas when he began coughing in front of me in the lobby. He coughed all the time and it was fine. This was different. He began to shank uncontrollably. He fell and his eyes were wide. I cried as the nurses came. The doctors had tried, but in the end, I watched as my only friend turned still and cold before my eyes. A dead body and his eyes didn’t give life. It became a fear of mine to watch others pass before me. No, I couldn’t watch it if the mother walked towards the light. No, I wasn’t going to watch another life die before my eyes. That was my fear. It wasn’t dying, it was watching others die before me. It was that fear that made me shout.

 


“SAVE Her! Please save My MoM!” I cried as the man and the girl worked on untying the tangled seatbelt that held my mother to the car. I couldn’t see the rescuers or my mother well but I could see her as they pulled her out. A sigh of relief left my lips. Now my turn. The man began to reach for me from the back seat but it was futile they wouldn’t be able to save me. He couldn’t reach me with the middle being smashed between my mother and me. I couldn’t crawl to him or reach for him. I was pinned and tangled by my seatbelt, unable to move. Someone would have to crawl in and out. That’s when I realized the flames were licking against the outside of my door. The oil was only seconds from catching. 

My rescuers had begun to notice the flames as dark plumes of smoke hid them from my sight.  

 


“Help!” The man called others and came rushing as the flames began to burn with a blue tint. It was engulfing the car and soon it would burn it all.

The fire spread fast throughout the car. It hadn’t hit the oil yet. The smoke was thick and dark. My lungs began to close so I held my breath. The man was still calling but no one was coming. 

So this is how I die. 

I thought. Not to the illness that threatened my life for the last five years. This was how I died, a smile began to form on my face. At least the sickness would lose its war, but the outcome would be the same. I closed my eyes for what I thought would be the last time. There was no one coming I could tell by the man's desperate pleas that were fading away as the flames burned high. The only thing I could think about was fireworks. They will be beautiful this year. Each Bam! Then a slizzed as the sparks fell from the sky. Fireworks flew so far but vanished in moments. That was my life just as quick. Bam, then I’ll sizzle away.

BAM! Glass shattered from the back passenger window and a girl drove in and began to feed my legs and carry me out. My eyes began to blur. A girl in light. An angel? No, I had to see it! But my eyes closed unwilling to open. 

     ~~~~~~*****~~~~~~*****~~~~~~

Coffee? Check. Money? Check. Gas in the car? Check. Merical checked off her list mentally as she took a quick slip of her latte while stopped at a red light. The hectic day she was having was filled with last-minute errands around town. Which she decided to do after working a seven-hour shift. Of course, she just happened to need extra last-minute shopping before heading aboard a plane for India in a few days. To add to her list of errands- she also had to prepare dinner at home. The light turned green, and Merical began onward to finish her goals. The time was 1:40 pm, just getting out of work. She turned onto the highway.

She needed to be back before 5 to begin cooking dinner. She was thinking of pasta salad that she had already made earlier that morning. Also, the chicken just needed to be warmed in the oven before being served. Her mouth water at the thought. Food. She hardly noticed how hungry she was till the thought of food stuck in her mind. 

You hadn’t eaten since breakfast! Her thoughts screamed. You’re hungry why not stop for some fries?

 Shut up. She told herself. 

French Fries. Her mind replied.

 Budget. she reasoned.

 Pretzels.

 Whatever! It was useless, she would just be hungry till she got home. After all, pasta salad was her specialty.

Tacos.

Ugh! Would her mind stop thinking about food!

Suddenly the car in front of her stopped. Odd, she thought on a highway? 

CRASH! 

 Another car smashed head-on into the Toyota in front. The Toyota flipped on its side. Jaded metal and smoke were all that remained of the car in front of her. The windows were cracked; black smoke started coming from all sides. It happened in a second, but the damage would last forever.

 


No! No. no..no.She said to herself memories of friends and family and past friends flooded her thoughts all with a single message that she heard loud and clear. 

Go, Save them.

She leaped out of her car and purged forward into the void of fog and smoke. She had no control over her feet or any idea of what she was doing. No, she knew what she was doing. She was heading towards danger. She was rushing into the fire.

Save Them.

 Running to the car, she saw there was only a driver who just needed to get out. Its airbags were out, but the man appeared perfectly fine. Well sorta fine.

“Come with me, sir.” Merical held out her hand. “It’s all going to be okay, let's just get you out.”

The driver was wide-eyed and shuttering his hands were trembling badly as he held onto hers. His hands were old but strong, which helped him escape his prison. He had a cheeseburger in his hand or what was left of it. It looked as if it was everywhere. Her mouth watered, food.

 Food was going to have to wait.

“Th-Th-Thanks.” That was all he could say as his feet touched solid ground again. 

“You are going to be just fine, sir. Just find a place off the road and call for help.”

The man hobbled away into the dense fog with a shaken look in her eyes.

“Mom!” 

Merical looked about- she heard someone. It was faint with all the screaming chaos and car alarms barling from every direction. Yet, she heard it.

“ Mom!” the voice cried out again.

She heard it again from ahead- it was faint, but she heard it loud and clear. Due to the dense fog, Merical could hardly see anything more than five feet, but she could hear the world around her screaming.

“Mom! Can you hear me? Mom?”

Sometimes people say they care, but in time for a needful action, they disappear.

 

Merical ran and saw a dark blue car flipped upside down with flames surrounding it. There was a truck on top of it, crushing the passenger side of the small car.
“Help!” a man shouted as he pulled a woman out from the wreckage. “There is still a girl inside!”
The flames began to rise. How did they survive this? The roof was caved in the center of the tiny car. Plumes of smoke were coming from the wreckage as a fire climbed on top of it. Those questions would have to wait.
“Which side?” Merical asked
“She’s in the passenger seat. I can't reach her-.” The man began coughing due to the smoke. Smoke was growing. And the car was almost engulfed in flames.
The door was jammed on the driver's side, wouldn’t let her reach the girl. The middle was caving in between the driver and passenger seats. She could go through the passenger’s side due to it being blocked- by another car. Only someone small enough would fit. She was that someone. She just needed a way in.
The window. The back seat driver's side window was cracked. It was all on instinct.
Merical took the nearest rock and smashed it hard against the glass of the back seat window. CracK! Not good enough! Again, she slammed it as hard as she could.
Break the window! Break! She shouted internally. Break!
Shatter! She slammed it again with all she had. Glass shards exploded everywhere. Smoke shimmied out, but Merical hurried in using her shirt to help from the smoke. Merical drove into the wreckage.
The smoke was thick and barely unseeable. But she could still see the girl was dangling from above, and her legs were trapped. She had thankfully gotten her seat belt off and only needed to be set free from the prison. Merical pulled the girl's legs from the estrangement of her seatbelt freeing them for good and quickly she lifted the child out of the car. She didn’t dare speak unto they were both out of the wreckage.
“I got you now, no worries.”
“Mom.” was all the girl said faintly in a dreamlike state.
“How is the woman?” Merical asked, still holding the girl in her arms.
“She’s alive and breathing. But she needs immediate medical attention.” The stranger said. “I heard an ambulance near the back. She needs to get there quickly.” Then he started coughing again. This stranger didn’t give his name. She didn’t get his name, but she would never forget his face.
Merical looked at the girl in her arms. She was covered in blood from her arms to her legs. Then recognition. She knew this girl. This was Emilia the girl from earlier. Her beautiful nails were now black and covered with her blood.
“I’ll take her,” Merical said before running off towards the sirens.
Lifting Emilia made her feel helpless. The girl was almost 11, yet felt light like a baby. There was a pulse, and as far Merical was concerned, that was all that matter. It was a life. No matter how small, it was a life, and life is always worth fighting for.

She ran with Emilia bleeding in her arms. This is so not how she pictured her day going. She turned left, more cars stacked upon each other.
“Just follow the sirens.” She said, trying to calm herself down.
Only sirens were everywhere. People were crying out in the streets. It was the sound of panic and fear, and it was spreading fast. An ambulance was right up ahead. Merical didn’t stop for anyone or anything. Life was literally in her hands, and she wasn’t stopping until she reached the ambulance. As the fog began to lift, for the first time, she saw just how awful this accident really was. Three semi-trucks had flipped and caused more accidents.
“Help! Please, she needs a doctor quickly!” She shouted as she approached the ambulance that had just arrived, but they wouldn’t be staying for long.

“Please,” Merical asked, “Please take her.”
“Hurry bring her in.” one of the EMTs said it was a tall, slender woman with thin glasses. She was motioning for Merical to hand Emilia to a few bigger EMTs; who placed her securely on the table.
Merical did as she was told, and the EMTs began their work. Merical began to walk away, but the woman stopped her.
“Stay here, we will need an identity if this goes south. Plus you might need medical attention also.”

She sat on the bench as the EMTs worked around and hurried to save Emilia. Everything was moving at ultra-speed, but for those brutal five minutes, the whole world went slow. Everything transpired slowly and everything seemed lost. For those five minutes, the sirens rang. Emilia’s pulse changed, every second. They were losing her, but there was nothing Merica could do but watch as the young girl, barely a teenager, was fighting for her life. Her life was so fragile.
“She needs a transfer quickly!” one of them shouted.
“It’s AB positive. We don’t have any left!” one of the younger ones said.
AB. Blood. It was the same as her blood. Merica looked at the pale, small face of Emilia and didn’t hesitate. The conversation with needles earlier came back to her mind.
“Use me, I am AB positive. Hurry, just take as much as you need.”
The woman with glasses and a younger man looked at each other and came with the same understanding.
"Are you certain?" the man asked.
"One-hundred percent."
“Come over here. Let's get you set up.” The lady with glasses said and Merical complied without a word. She hated needles and blood but if it meant saving that girl’s life it would be worth it. “We need to hurry and get to the hospital now!” The young man cried. In seconds the vehicle began to move and so did her blood.

It felt as if hours had passed when they finally reached the hospital. The rush began again, but only faster and more urgent. Emilia’s hands were cold and small and her face looked drained. Merical didn’t let go of Emilia’s hand till the last second when the doors closed. Emilia was sent into immediate surgery. In the waiting room, hours passed but Merical didn’t sleep a wink. Knowing that a girl she just met was now fighting for her life.

The surgery was seven hours and only an hour had passed since then before Merical was allowed to stay in Emilia’s room. She didn’t want to leave the girl’s side till her family arrived. It wasn’t till after a little past three when her brother came in. He looked exhausted and his face was full of worry. He looked to be in his twenties. Dark brown hair was a mess and his appearance was in a suit that appeared wet. She remembered Emilia saying he had a concert tonight. It was a big one she had claimed. He must have come from there in a hurry once he was given the news. He entered slowly and sat on the other side of Emilia. After looking at her sleeping face, relief emerged on his face. His blue eyes had dark lines under them; but with one look at his sister's face, a weight fell from his shoulders.
“Thank you for saving my sister.” He said his voice was weak but calm “I heard from the doctors how you brought her in and then freely gave your blood for her.” He continued upon seeing my dazed face.
“Your welcome, but I just couldn’t leave her.” Merical said, “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
“My sister is no stranger to hospitals. Her room would match this room almost perfectly to tell you the truth. She has always been sick, but you saved her. Thank you.”
A silence followed for a few moments staring at Emilia’s sleeping face. She was alive, but how alive was she? Merical wished the young girl’s eyes would open- any moment now- but they didn’t open.
“ How is your mother?” Merica spoke softly.
“She is doing well. She only had a few burns and a broken arm. She will be fine. I am sure she will see Emilia as soon as she can.” He smiled weakly. “I heard you- have been here a long time- do you need a ride?”
“No,” Merical stated quickly, she didn't want him to leave. “I live in Buckfield; I can call.”
“Oh no, are you sure? It would be a while if someone was coming from Buckfield. It would be much faster and easier if I called a taxi. I have to repay you anyway.” he insisted.
“Oh no, it’s fine! My ride is nearby, I have already called them about my car, and they should be here in an hour or two.” She lied. She had called them but asked them to pick her up until around five.
“If you are certain?” He asked. Dark circles were heavy under his dark eyes.
“Absolutely.”
Silence filled the room again.
“You know,” Ryan spoke softly.”My sister has faced death more than I have. Only she never feared death. She fears the burden that death brings. She fears that everything we did would all be in vain. It’s like a fear of a runner in a race. The runner wears the least he can in fear of too much weight. With that worry of weight, he takes off his shoes but runs slower due to his feet aching. He runs but doesn't run as fast as he can. Because his fear has controlled him just enough for him to lose the most valuable item he had. He finishes the race and asks what place he got. A man sitting at the finish line laughed upon seeing him and said. “You lost the race once you lost your shoes.” My dad used to say the man’s shoes represent faith. Once we take them off, we lose the race in life. The funny thing is she blames that her sickness has stopped her from living. The only problem I have with that. She is more alive than she believes. If only she put on her shoes and started believing again, she would see what we all see.”
“I never heard that story before,” Merical said quietly.
“My father might have made it up a long time ago. He was always good at making stories.”
Merical was about to ask a question, but Ryan cut her off.
“My father passed on a while back after Emilia was born.”
“I want to say sorry, but I know it does nothing,” Merical whispered. “Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Life happens. Some things are just out of your hand.”
For a few moments, they listen to the machine's steady beep and the hospital hum with motors.
“Since you have the time,” he said, breaking the silence, “May I ask what happened?”
Merical took a deep breath before she began. It wasn’t a long story, it was an exhausting one.

It was about 4:30 when her sister came in to bring her home. Emilia still hadn’t woken up, but Ryan, her brother was there. Merical's family had taken the car to the mechanic. Someone had rammed into her back when she stopped. Once they were home, Merical's sister had heard the story; they both collapsed exhausted on their beds. Thank goodness tomorrow was Sunday. All they had tomorrow was church, and that was much better than work. Only she was restless with worries of what might happen with Emilia. There was nothing she could do for her, and it made Merical feel even worse. Yet, a question lurked in her thoughts. Who was the man?

The author's comments:

Thank you for reading!

Every day I awake and open two gifts. They are my eyes. Well, that’s what mom says.

June 30th.

 

I awoke to the mythical beeping again. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I open my eyes to see the sun bathe my room with pale blue walls. Where was I again? I asked myself. Pain stabbed me everywhere. My head pounded as I noticed the needles riddling my burned arms and my legs elevated above my bed- were for sure broken. What happened? Flashes of the night before flooded her thoughts.

The world was bright, yet everything hurt. I looked at my nails. They were still done with purple ombre butterflies with now broken wings with their polish chipped. The whole world was spinning as I fell back into a deep sleep. I awoke later to voices. Voices I didn’t recognize. It was the voices of men and women, and with the sound of names, I listened intently. I didn’t open my eyes, just listen. 

“It’s gone!” a man exclaimed. He sounded middle age with a hit of Scottish delict. 

“How is this possible?” It was a female voice now that sounded much younger “It’s incurable? It deals with the nerves and the injuries she sustains wouldn’t have impacted her in that area?”

“ I even did multiple tests- all negative. ” A man joined. 

“In all my days it’s only happened twice now I can say three times it has happened.” The man said in disbelief.

“What happened?” The female asked. I listen eagerly to hear his next words. 

“A miracle,” he said.

I pretended to sleep as they stood in my room examining my charts over again. I could list all the things wrong about me in alphabetical order. I could write a page of each and make a book but when the man spoke it sounded like another’s charting. The only things wrong were two broken legs and second-degree burns with a concussion. I opened my eyes a little to make sure there wasn’t another patient in the room, but there was only me. They reread my charts, but everything they looked at, they had to question something.

“Are the tests wrong? Or did Sarah write it down wrong? Maybe it’s mixed with someone else's.” The female said in an even voice of concern. 

They questioned everything to the bone, literally.

 When they left, I sat up the best I could. This wasn’t my room, this was a hospital. Though, it didn’t look much different than my room. Panic filled me. Only it wasn’t for me. It was for my mother. I had my fair share of the treatments of doctors and nurses in my life, but my mother was another story. Was she here? More importantly, was she alive? I needed to find her.

I looked at myself, arms wrapped in bandages with needles and legs in casts, elevated. My head swam with thoughts and questions. Just as quickly I had thought of them, answers came into my head. There was an accident. I replayed the scene last night. Mom was hurt, but where was she? There was a fire, but I was tangled- in my seat belt. The buckle had locked me to the seat that was now upside down. Then glass shattered, out of nowhere. Then a girl, it wasn’t a stranger, it was a friend. It was someone I knew. It was a girl I recognized. Who was she? My brain ached, as I tried to identify the girl lifting me out of the burning car. Who was she?

It was only a few hours later when I heard steps in the hall. The doctors walked into the room again and with smiles and bewilderment on their faces. When they saw me awake. I smiled as I saw my mother walking right behind them. She was in tears.

They seemed pleased with themselves, and my mom knew what it was.

 


“Mom?” I said my voice was weak. 

The woman who entered was chestnut hair with a few gray streaks; more wrinkles than women her age should bear. Tears stream down her puffy cheeks. She smelled like cinnamon and reminded me of honey. She had her right arm in a cast and bandages on her left probably- from burns. Her dark blue eyes showed a motherly love that endured more love and pain than I could bear. She wore a light yellow blouse with a medium-length black skirt. This woman with bandages and scars was indeed my mother. She was carrying a bouquet of daffodils, my favorite flowers. Daffodils are the flower of rebirth, the first flower of spring, and a sign of hope. The doctors walked away.

She ran to my side. Even without her right arm, she squeezed me tightly. 

“I missed you.” She whispers in my ear. “We thought we lost you for good.”

“I thought I lost you.” My voice cracked; tears flooded my eyes. For a few moments, I was lost in her embrace. She was alive. The Lord had heard my cry.

‘Good news or the bad news first?” She asked after the embrace.

“Bad news first.”

“Bad news, you got two broken legs and third-degree burns on your arms and legs.” She said, “Good news is you won’t be needing any more IV drips.”

I hugged her even tighter as warm tears fell down our cheeks. “What happened?”

“A Miracle happened!”

I was confused. A miracle? I stared at my mother for a moment; it clicked together like the last piece of a puzzle clicking in place. “It’s-It’s -gone?” I questioned. My voice was one of disbelief. 

She nodded. “It’s gone all of it! Like it was never there, to begin with!”

My sickness was gone. 

What about the tumor?” I asked

She smiled with tears still rolling, “It’s gone. The doctors don’t know what happened. It’s almost as if it had never been there before.”

“Knock, Knock!” Ryan said by the open door with Mia by his side. “May we come in?”

“Come in,” we said laughing, with joy. We were alive, and it felt good. 

 


Never before have I been so grateful to be alive. I had two broken legs after they had been crushed, with a few burns on my arms. Something felt different. It was a feeling of hope. It was as if something that had weighed me down forever was lifted and taken away. It felt so good. I was never worthy of a miracle, but Michael was. He was bright and kind. Michael loved life and was only a child when he died. He didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t deserve to live, but I did. Only I stopped myself from thinking that before the thoughts destroyed my soul. I was given a gift that many had been denied. I was given a miracle, a second chance. I couldn’t dwell on the fact of my unworthiness, but on the fact, I was given a gift. A gift many had died for and others wished for. I could waste it away and dwell on the pains of yesterday. Or I cherish the gift; become worthy of the miracle of life. No. I needed to be worthy of this gift. I had to live not for myself but Matthew also. 

 


“Here’s lunch.” she simply said with a smile. I had expected an IV drip and machine, but she laid a tray of food on my stand. Food. Solid food. I looked at the items quickly, it had been three years since I had these. Applesauce, a salad, and what looked like a sandwich with tomatoes. Tomatoes. I did eat solid foods, but most of the time I would have to throw them up because my stomach was not strong enough. My mouth water, I used to eat my mother’s tomatoes in the garden before all this happened. 

“Can I eat this?” I asked

“I did bring it to you too, so I don’t see why not.” She said sweetly. “I think you can figure this out, but if you have any questions or when you are finished- just give me a ring.” Then she left. I took a bite of the sandwich. The flavors explode in my mouth. I didn’t even realize the tears. Until I saw a puddle on my lap. I was just full of emotions that I couldn’t contain. Emotions, I didn’t understand but felt right.

July 2nd.

I wheeled out of the hospital the next day seeing how my homeroom was fully custom to my past condition. It would be like a hospital anyway. I laughed. because this was the day of the surgery that I might have not come back from. As I wheeled out, I laughed because I was free even if I was in a wheelchair. I felt powerful even if I was in a wheelchair. I was so happy that tears of joy flooded my eyes. 

“Wait a minute!” Mia said with a mischievous grin. “There is something we have to do before we leave.”

Mom and I looked at each other with confusion. As Ryan came between us posing for a picture.

“Okay everyone selfie!” Mia said, holding her phone to take a picture of us four. The three of us together equally hated taking our pictures, but she didn’t know that. We all smiled like idiots for her. 

 

On the walk towards the car. An old memory flared again. I was suddenly back in the past listening to Matthew ask his last question.

“Do you believe in miracles?” He asked 

I stared back at him. His eyes brown full of wonder and life before they shut again. 

“Do you believe in miracles?” he asked again.

I guess now I have no choice but to believe that miracles do exist.

 “Yes,” I said out loud.  

I watched as the boy smiled back at me before he disappeared. 

 


“What is it?” Ryan asked. “Yes to what?”

“Nothing.” I lied “Nothing at all.”

“Are You sure?” he crossed his arms and stared at me. As we got in the car.

“No. I want to find the girl who saved me and thank her personally.” 

 


July 3 rd.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

“I am 100% certain.”

As we drove in a driveway to a stranger’s home. We parked the car and stared at the home for a moment. There weren't any other cars here. My nerves began to raise. 

“What if they aren’t home?”

Ryan seemed unworried. “Then we come back tomorrow.” 

We knocked three times, but no one answered. 

“I guess we just come back tomorrow?” I began and the door opened to a teen girl who had the resemblances of Merical. She looked as if she was about to head out to town. She was smaller than Merical. Her eyes weren’t blue, but hazel. She had a messy bun up and wore a sleeveless shirt with a denim skirt. 

“Oh hi there! Who are you?” 

“Umm .. I-I -my name-” I stammered talking to strangers wasn’t new but talking to them at their door was. It didn’t help that I was in a wheelchair, making me smaller.

“Hi, I am Ryan, and here is my younger sister Emila. Sorry, she isn’t used to talking to strangers.” Ryan stepped in. 

The girl smiled wide. “Oh, no worries! You’re fine! Now, what can I do for you?”

“Well, you see we are looking for a girl, who saved my sister’s life, named Merical?”

“Ohh, my sister? She is not here right now. Actually, she just left an hour or so heading to the airport for India.”

“Oh,” I said that was not what I had expected. “When will she be back?”

The girl thought for a moment before answering. “I think on August 16th?”

“Right, can you give this to her when she comes back?” I handed over the small box to the girl. “There is a letter inside for her and a gift. I wanted to just say, thank you.”

Ryan grinned at me with approval. My voice felt small, but his smile was grand.

“Sure thing! I’ll make sure this gets to her. Oh, and let me get you her new address! Real quick I’ll write it down.” The girl ran inside, and in a few seconds, she came back with a piece of yellow sticky note with an address scribbled in pencil. 

“Thank you very much!” Ryan said, taking the paper. “We will send her a letter.”

With that, we headed back towards the car. Peace filled me knowing tomorrow was my birthday, but I was still alive.

“Hey Sis,” Ryan asked, “Ready to twelve tomorrow?”

“I have waited my whole life for it, why not?” I fell asleep exhausted before he put the car in drive.

 


I didn’t know it then, but only hours later Merical received my gift.

It was a long drive, yet it felt as if it was only a few minutes had passed as Merical had walked into the airport. Her plane was about to embark, but she still had a few minutes before take-off as she sat in her seat exhausted. If her car didn’t break down and if her sister hadn’t had to pick her up from the gas station. She would’ve had more time to find her seat. But also would have never reived Merical's gift. Only she didn’t need to think of what had happened but the fact that she was there. She made it; that was all that mattered. She listened to the flight attendant and finally took out the box. The box had wood-burned carvings of butterflies and flowers. It was beautiful. It was a simple, elegant beauty and now looking at it more carefully, she realized that even the box was handmade. She opened it to find inside a letter neatly folded. As she read the letter, she smiled. It wasn’t just a letter of gratitude, it was the story of Emilia-a story of a miracle. Then underneath the letter was a soft pouch. Curious, she opened it to find earrings. Each made of sea glass and both were held together by a strong wire that made the earrings the appearance of scars. There was also a necklace was made of a single sea glass piece in the shape of a sun on a silver chain. It was homemade but beautiful. She hadn’t expected such gifts.

“Thank you,” she whispered to herself. As her mind replayed the events once more. One thing was true, Emilia had real talent. These gifts were beautiful and unique; she had put so much time and effort into them. Merical understood the truth of what Emilia said about Miracles. Sometimes you are the miracle someone prayed for. She closed her eyes exhausted she would be in India soon.

July 4th

 


BaM! The night sky lit up with blasts of color and booming sounds like canons echo the night. The sparks shimmer and shine against the waters of the lake where my Grandfather had always shot the fireworks off. I didn’t miss them not this year. The gleam against the water reflected against the sky. People cheered and applauded. Kids ran about with sparklers in hand while the adults sat by a campfire nearby. The laughter and life surrounded me in the night. The world was changed in my eyes. It had only been days since the accident and my body wasn’t at its best but watching the fireworks from the a confined in a wheelchair was plenty fine instead of never seeing the fires burst into sparks into the night sky. I couldn’t hide the tears or the smile when the fireworks exploded before my eyes. My mother held me tightly as we watched. It was at that moment when the fireworks burned the night my brother bent his knee and said, “ Mia Coles, will you play a lifelong symphony with me? Will you marry me?” 

She leaped into his arms and said “Yes!”


La Fin



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