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."