Like Father, Like Son

• Jessica Wallis, Grade 10, Queensland Academy For Science, Math & Technology
• Short Story
• 2015

Finalist in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

"I don’t know how much longer I can do this!" my wife of 3 years screamed.
I watched in horror with our very proud mothers as she pushed and pushed, trying to get our son out as quickly as possible.
"It’s okay, keep going honey!" I encouraged.
"Shut the h..."

BLACKNESS

5 minutes later...
I opened my eyes to see nothing but a blurry hospital room. As my eyes began to focus, like a camera lens, I saw the body of a wheezing middle-aged man on the ground in the corner. Nurses and doctors swarmed around the man like bees to a hive.

"He’s having a heart attack!”

“Call the other doctors!"

I heard snippets of frantic conversation between medical staff. In my delusional state it took a moment to work out what was happening.
That weak man lying on the ground was me. I, Jake Marshall, was watching myself have a heart-attack.

From behind a transparent plastic boundary wall I watched chaos breakout. I had no control over my limbs, I was paralysed, and felt confined like a swaddled newborn. I was overwhelmed by the strong scent of disinfectant and various cleaning products. A chill ran down my spine, partly due to my uncertainty of the situation and partly because the thermostat was set in the negatives… at least it felt that way.
I stopped thinking about myself for a moment and gazed at the love of my life lying on the bed. Her perfect, silky brown hair framed her face while beads of sweat lay on her forehead. She opened her ordinarily sparkling green eyes to reveal swollen red eyes, bleeding with pain and tears leaking from the corners.

Next to the bed her mother sat expressionless staring emptily at the corner of the room, holding my wife’s hand. I followed her gaze and saw a gurney being wheeled in. Three muscular paramedics lifted my limp body on to the contraption and gently pulled a sheet over my head with mournful expressions on their face. They hurriedly exited the room, with me in tow. The emotions running through my head were indescribable. I had just witnessed my own death and was now watching what was meant to be a joyful occasion, unravel rapidly into an area filled with grief-stricken faces and the sound of sobbing. More importantly where was my son? Clearly my wife was not in labour… I noticed the multitude of women surrounding my wife staring in my direction.

“Hi there little Harrison,” my wife murmured at me with fondness and sorrow in her eyes. I screamed but nothing but a whimper came out, I had no way to communicate with her, my vocabulary – gone, any way of moving – gone.
My mind buzzed with questions… Is this temporary? Permanent? What was going to happen?

“You know... He looks just like Jake did when he was a baby,” my mother said with a sad smile on her face.