Creative Essay: Boy Loses His Parents


"Martin, it\'s Bob. Angela was in a car accident last night..."

"Oh my God! Is it serious?"

"Yes, it\'s pretty serious. She\'s still unconscious. Hey listen, buddy,

I have to go out of town for a while and I was wondering if you could call
the hospital every once in a while because apparently somebody she knows
should be around after she wakes up. It sounds kind of silly to me but..."

"I\'m leaving right now."

"Do what you want, Martin. Why don\'t you get some more sleep; after
all it\'s three in the morning. I\'ve got to go- my plane leaves in an hour.

Thanks so much for bailing me out at such short notice, old pal."

"Hey no problem, buddy, it\'s only your wife; no need to be worried or
anything..." Martin said sarcastically to the dial tone. Martin ran to the
shower and was dressed and in the car in ten minutes.

"Excuse me, could you please tell me what room Mrs. Angela Warner, I
mean Smith, is in?"

"Yes, sir, she\'s in room 23, but you can\'t see her until 6:30. You may
wait in the lounge at the end of the hall if you wish."

"Thank you very much."

Martin looked through the little square window of her door. The
private room was cold and dark with green tile covering the walls halfway.

She had tubes in her nose, her head bandaged heavily, her arms in casts and
her neck in a brace. She had a long cut along her right cheekbone.

"You\'re still beautiful, little Angela," Martin murmured softly
to himself as tears welled up in his eyes. He turned away and walked down
the hall to the private lounge. As he walked in and sat down, he scanned
the people already there. There was a seemingly nice older couple, two
middle-aged women and a young boy.

"I REALLY hope her foot feels better after surgery," one of the women

"No you don\'t, Susie. You\'re the one that didn\'t want to pitch in some
money to help her pay the bill," the other said icilly.

"I wouldn\'t talk, Candyce. You don\'t even want to be here. I loved
those fake tears of concern when they wheeled her in; that was a nice
touch," Susie laughed wickedly.

"She wouldn\'t even need to have surgery if it weren\'t for you dropping
that iron on her foot."

"That was an accident!" Susie\'s voice started to raise.

"Oh yeah, right. It just happened to be after she told you she was
engaged to Brad," Candyce said sarcastically.

"That was over a long time ago! How dare you imply..." Susie
hissed and stood up to slap Candyce when a nurse walked in.

"Miss Lane, Miss Rucher? Emilia has awakened from the anaesthetic. You
may see her now."

"Is she alright?" Susie said with concern oozing from her voice.

"Did they save her foot?" Candyce was near tears.

"Emilia will be just fine. Her foot was saved. Follow me, please."

Candyce and Susie shrieked with apparent joy and smiled so sweetly at the
nurse, syrup dripped from their mouths like the drool of a rabid dog. As
soon as the nurse turned her back to lead them away to their sick friend,
they glowered at each other wickedly.

"With friends like that, who needs enemies!" Martin thought to himself
as he sighed pityingly and reached for a pamphlet. He glanced at his watch:

5:00a.m. He looked over at the little boy who sitting alone in a corner,
silent with a blank stare on his face accompanied with an occasional
heart-felt sniffle.

"How to Deal With Death: The Revised Edition. What an
uplifting topic. I should come here more often," Martin thought
wryly and tossed the pamphlet on a nearby table. He glanced over at
the older couple. Thet were just sitting there, admiring the lovely
chocolate brown, seaweed green and bright orange modern murals.

"This is TOO depressing. I\'ve got to get out of here," Martin thought
to himself. "I\'m going to get some coffee. Could I bring you back

"No thank you, dear," the old woman said politely.

"Well, if you wouldn\'t mind, I\'d really enjoy a ..." the woman nudged
the old man.

"George! Where are your manners?" she hissed and then smiled sweetly
at Martin who pretended not to notice.

"Come to think of it, I don\'t really want anything at the momment,
thanks," the old man quickly corrected himself.

"You sure have him well trained, lady," Martin snickered sarcastically
to himself. "How about you, son?" The little boy just sat there,