Joel

(An idea for a story beginning)

It was late June when I got word about my brother and his condition. It was serious, they’d said. They were scrambling to find the cause of his sudden illness. Searching for an infection of some sort.

He was admitted to the hospital when my dad and I were out with him at his favorite restaurant in town. It was his birthday, and pizza was that nut head’s absolute favorite. We were chatting it up, laughing at the stupidest things, and having a grand ‘ole time. All was going well until my brother’s eyes went wide as if in a panic and his hands went still as stone… and he collapsed face first into his pizza. The spectacle may have been humorous if it weren’t for the fact that my only brother was having a stroke.

He was unresponsive for an entire day. I was beginning to think the worst until the nurse came into the waiting room where my dad and I had made our new dwelling place to tell us he was conscious. A wave of relief washed over me. But then she continued.

“He is conscious… but not well. Certainly not well enough to be released.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“He’s going to have to stay here a while until we finish running tests. We’ll let you know the diagnosis as soon as we can spot what exactly is going on.” She shifted her feet. “You can come see him, but he’s still asleep.”

Without a word, I rose up to my feet and followed the nurse, my dad in tow, until we came to the room.

“Right in here,” she said before politely exiting.

I walked into that room… and took in the sight of Eli’s pale face and his ragged breathing. And a breath I didn’t know I was holding rushed out. Eli…

It was a week later that we got the call, telling us that Eli was in fact, seriously ill. I clawed and clawed at them when they said they were unsure what he was ill with. I practically yelled at them over the phone, demanding that they weren’t trying hard enough. My brother was a healthy guy, how could he just have a stroke and get sick? How?

So we waited. We waited for them to figure it out as they kept running tests on him like a guinea pig. We visited him every single day they weren’t running tests. He was actually looking better as the days went by, and hope began to rise in my chest that I would not lose my brother. I could not lose my brother. Eli would live.

A week into August, I was heading home from work when my phone went off. It was the hospital calling to let me know that Eli had passed away that afternoon.

I stopped dead in my tracks, along with my heart. Eli. Gone. I didn’t even give the nurse a response as I shut off my phone and blankly stared down at my feet on the asphalt.

I never went near pizza again.