We met in kindergarten. We were best friends.
She always told me she loved my eyes. I didn't quite know why.
I was in love with her, so of course my face lit up immensely whenever she said it.
She was beautiful, kind, and extremely funny.
We'd be talking about nothing, and she'd turn to me and whisper,
"I like your eyes."
One day, I was playing basketball,
waiting for her to drive over to my house to have a game with me.
Suddenly, I got a phone call.
It was her mom. She was in a panic.
I couldn't quite understand what she was saying. It sounded like,
"Aaron, come quick! Kelsey, accident, Main Street! Blood. Come now!"
I had no clue what happened,
so I ran to Main Street with my basketball shorts and a tee shirt on.
I saw Kelsey's mom helplessly crying, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
I saw a totaled car, blood everywhere.
Then I saw her, Kelsey.
My heart stopped as I frantically ran over to her.
"Kelsey? Kelsey!" She was unconscious. I started crying.
I know it isn't very manly, but I couldn't help it.
Before I could say anymore, the medics took her away,
the main source of blood coming from her head.
I went to the hospital that night,
I went every night.
in fact, the only time I left was to go out to eat, but that's it.
The doctors tried getting me to leave, but I refused.
It was all my fault.
If it wasn't for me, wanting to play basketball with her,
she wouldn't be going through this.
It was already four days, and she hasn't woken up.
On the fifth day, I saw her eyes gently open.
"Kelsey?" I called.
She wasn't quite awake yet.
Suddenly, doctors came rushing in, telling me I had to wait outside.
I did, for a few hours.
One of the doctors finally came out saying,
"I understand that you're Kelsey's friend, Aaron?"
"Yes," I whispered.
He bit his lip.
"She woke up, she's fine,
but I'm afraid she has long term memory loss."
"Are you serious?" I almost shouted.
"I'm afraid so."
I didn't meet his gaze. I couldn't.
I wasn't going to say anything, so he spoke again.
"You can go see her if you want,
but she doesn't remember anything, not even her mom."
I walked in, trembling in horror.
I saw her. She looked helpless as she slept.
I waited a few hours, until I saw her eyes opening gently again.
I expected doctors to run in, rushing me out.
Instead, she looked me straight in the eyes, and whispered,
"I don't know you, but I like your eyes."
Guinevere Rose*
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