OCEAN EYES

by Oseke Blessed

            I jerked awake, my body vibrating with a penetrating coldness. I panted as sweat cascaded down my wrinkly skin adorned with scars, scars from my past. My eyes incessantly moving from left to right, my blurry vision doing little justice, all I could see were the white walls of my hospital room.

            Paralyzed, my flaccid body struggled, seeking even the littlest amount of energy. With great difficulty, I noticed my fingers beginning to spasm with newfound jolts of small amounts of energy.

            Determined, my hand moved further, throw after throw, but I wasn't giving up. After an agony filled moment, my hand knocked over the little monitor, sending the death cradled limb to go limp again and falling against my wheelchair's metallic armrest. Now, all I could do was wait.

            Ambling through the double doors, the ambience quickly changed. His charming benevolence and contagious everlasting smile dazzling the atmosphere, producing a more serene aura that now surrounded me.

            "Are you okay?" His dulcet voice was like music to my ears.

            Biting down on his lip, he leaned in. Enchanting, his gentle blue orbs are captivating and depthless.

            "You're sweating," he commented, worry oozing off his sweet lips.

            His baby skin-like hands reach up and gently wiping away the beads of the salty liquid from my face.

            "There." He grinned, his pearly whites, blinding.

            Oh, how I would love to caress those beautifully dimpled cheeks and trace random lines on his lightly freaked face.

            Alas, my condition is a great obstacle. My skin scared by numerous burns and bruises and my body wrinkled with creases.

            My sixty-eight-year-old vision fading day by day, I manage a strangled sigh through my chapped lips, drool seeping slowly out from the side of my lips.

            "Oh, a little saliva," he whispered, now reaching up to wipe away the slightly slimy liquid.

            I blinked twice afterwards, thanking him.

            "You're welcome, Melissa." He smiled.

            I allowed my eyes to wander off to the shelf at a far corner of the almost empty room. His deep blue eyes followed my half-dead pale brown ones.

            "You want me to read it to you?" he asked, my creased lids fluttering twice.

            His face broke out in a warm grin. With the little hardcover clutched in his slightly hairy knuckled fingers, I took a breath, relaxing.

            The moment he was close enough, I was reminded of the reason I had fallen in love with my twenty-three-year-old male nurse.

            His gentle orbs, the shade of blue too familiar, were a serene calmness penetrating my haggard form.

            My lips formed a small smile as he read out, incoherent to my poor hearing. He had always had a habit of reading in hushed tones, but I was not complaining. The magnificent portal to his soul held an unnerving deepness I wouldn't mind falling into.

            His eyes remind me of the environment I call home today. Marvellous was the deep, the gentle Waters of the ocean, the rising and falling tides.

            My eyes begin to water, unnoticeable by him. My time and mind shifting to the days of yesterday, the days when my feet danced around on the shores, my dainty fingers played with shells and sand. A tear slipped.

            "Don't go too close!" mama yelled out to us, her voice raspy from a bad smoking habit.

            "Sorry, mama," we both yelled out in unison, moving away from the blue waves of cold, refreshing ocean water.

            "I learned a new word today," he said, perking up in giggles.

            "Wow, what is it?" I asked, my eyes glimmering with curiosity.

            "Pyromaniac." He struggled to properly pronounce the word.

            "Wow, it's a big word! What does it mean?" I asked, my eyes widening in awe.

            "I heard it from mama's doctor, it has something to do with fires," he said, grinning sheepishly.

            "It's a cool word." We both grinned, repeating the word like a mantra.

            My grin faded once I saw the smoke.

            "Mama is burning something again." My twin brother's head whisked around so fast I thought he'd get whiplash.

            Within a nanosecond, we ran quickly toward our little home, situated not too far from the beachhead where we were playing.

            "Mama!" We called out to her, running toward the kitchen where the fumes were being emitted from.

            "Don't come here, go outside?" she yelled out to us, crying, evident in her tone.

            "Let's go," I whispered to my brother, trying to pull him away.

            "No," he yelled, struggling out of my grip and running toward the visible flames.

            "Andrew!" I yelled, running toward the kitchen, too.

            "Andrew!" I called out, practically blind, trying to find my way through the burning room.

            "Melly!" I heard him call out.

            "The gas!" And with one final explosion, I felt myself hurling to the floor, hitting my head on the way.

            "And done. Oh, you're crying." His concerned tone brought me back to reality.

            With his pointer finger, he wiped away the stray tear. Oh, how I would love to fall into those ocean blues, but it's not fair life. Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to adore this man and his beautiful ocean eyes.