A Tea Filled Summer

Alexander Wills taught me a lot. He taught me about love, fitting in, having a social life. He also taught me about heartbreak and sensitivity. He never failed to amaze me with his patience, and his stunning features. He's someone you would swear could only exist in a movie. No one else can endlessly talk about serious debatable matters and have no one offended when he was done talking. No one else could ever love me as much, and I promise you, Alexander, they won't.

Cover credit to BoysInBooksAreBetter


10. 9

It's very strange to not be able to see someone as you had always imagined them. I learned this when I moved away from Michael and then saw him the next year. He looked much different, talked much different, and acted much different. This is harder. Alexander, to put it simply, is someone who I had always thought was too good to be true. The first day that I had met him, he looked physically perfect. And when I got to know him, he seemed mentally perfect. Intelligent, loving, and charming. Now, he lays with tubes going into various parts of his body, a missing leg, and bruises all over.

Someone enters the room, and as always, I don't care to look who it is. The stranger pets my hair and starts to speak. I instantly realize that my mother has come. "I brought you some school work. I really think you should go back. And go to work. I know Harold isn't making you come in, but still."

I vigorously shake my head, "No, mom. I have to be here when he wakes up."

Her face drops, "Sweetie," she starts and follows up with the words I don't want to hear, "He's not going to wake up."

"No, mom! No, you're wrong," I start to cry once again. I place my hands on his upper arms. "Alexander, stay with me," I plead. "I can't lose you. I love you."

Though my words are so compact, it is hard for anyone else to hear what I'm saying, but I hope that Alexander can. And I hope he will stay with me.


I stare at him, as I do all day. The same red-headed nurse comes back into the room multiple times and forces me to drink and eat. Mel and Max come in and out of the room, crying with me. Bringing drinks and desserts that others from the community have prepared for them and asking me to eat. I refuse.


There's a certain feeling you get when you think you are about to lose someone. Your throat tightens, you feel nauseous, and your head is spinning. The memories you have with that person play in your mind over and over again. You wonder what happened? Why can't they be the same as they were? You blame others, and then yourself, and you continue to look for somewhere to place the blame until you've run out of spaces. You cry a lot. This is how I feel.

There's no way of knowing when he will be better. Doctors come in and discuss the likelihood of him waking up. And it is not favorable. I beg them to try something else. I tell them that there has to be a way for Alexander to wake up. They just look at me with pity. They apologize and tell me that there is nothing they can do. The conversations from them are always bad. But the worst came thirteen days after the accident.

"They can't afford this," a blonde doctor states.

The red-headed nurse is the one to reply, "There's nothing else you can do?"

He sighs, looking over toward me, "The family is going to have to decide whether or not they should continue to keep him on life support or to pull the plug. Their insurance can only cover so much."

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