Sunset

My mother always taught me to help others. Even if you hate their guts, they still deserve a second chance. I still can't see why on earth you would try and help someone who would rather beat the crap out of you then say hello as you walk past. But of course, I have to. It's what my mother wanted me to do, so I always have to. Sigh. The things we promise as our mothers lay on their death beds.

After my mother died, and my father started drinking to drive away the grief, I graduated from the University of Medical Science with a Bachelor of Nursing degree. That was 2 years ago. I now work at a hospital in the ICU wing. After my 8 to 10 hour shifts, I come back to an apartment 5 blocks away from the hospital, where I then check up on my alcoholic father, do some cleaning, and then cook some dinners to give to the Homeless foundation.

It's just coming out of winter, and I breathe in the sun and the breeze as I step out of the hospital from an 8 hour shift. Adjusting my handbag over my shoulders, I start along the path to home. Cars roar around me, honking their horns for going too slow, or because some tourist was driving on the wrong side of the road. I press the button at the traffic lights to cross the road and I realise, that an elderly lady on a wheelchair is crossing from the the other side of the street without the signal to walk had gone off. I quickly notice that a car blasting music is going at least 10 ks over the speed limit and is going to crash the lady if he doesn't stop. I look at the lights. They're green! This car is about to crash the lady! I spring into action, running across the street, and I push the lady backwards out of the way a split second before the speedy car slams into my left side and there's nothing but blackness.

I hear shouting, so I try and force my eyes open. I manage to partially open them, and I am met by faces looking at me and pushing my bed. I see streaks of white walls and white doors, but I fall back into sleep before I can quite place where I am.

I blink my eyes open, and turn my head onto the side. My whole body throbs, and I can see a tube stuck fast on my arm, feeding me what I am assuming is some sort of anaesthetic. I blink again, and I see white walls, and a white curtain blocking the view on the left side of my bed. I'm in bed. I look down at myself, and see myself dressed in a white hospital gown lying propped up on pillows in a hospital bed. My left leg is in a cast, and pain surges through my ribs when I try and sit myself up more. I feel my head, checking for injuries, and I feel a small bandage, and I instantly recognise it as a bandage to cover stitches. I must have split my head open when I got hit by that car. And then I remember. The old woman! What happened to her?!

I must have fallen back to sleep, cause the next thing I know I'm blinking my eyes open as a nurse approaches. "Hello Jackie," she says as she checks the medicine in my tube. I manage a small smile. "How you feeling?" She asks, turning her head to face me. "I'm fine," I mumble, not really believing the words that come out of my mouth. By the looks of it, the nurse doesn't believe me either. But before she can ask me any more questions, I blurt, "The old woman, how is she?"

The nurse hesitates, and straightens her scrubs before answering. "The old lady," she sighs, "passed away an hour after you got hit." I freeze. What now? The nurse reads my face and explains. "When you pushed her back, one of her back wheels hit the curb of the path and she fell backwards and hit her head. She was knocked out and then passed away." I turn my face away, and stare at my hands in my lap. She's dead. And I killed her. The tears start, slowly at first, and then they come more freely and sobs shake my body. The pain is excruciating, but it's nothing compared to the fact that an old lady is dead because of me.

I am watching the sunset out my hospital room window when I hear footsteps enter. I turn my head, and an unfamiliar man is walking towards my bed. "May I help you?" I ask, my mind numb. He shoves his left hand towards me. "I'm Chris, may I have a seat?" I cautiously take his hand, shake it, and gesture for him to sit down in the seat beside my bed. "I'm Jackie," I say. "I'm the son of the old woman you pushed out of the way of the car." I catch my breath. "Oh," is all I can say. He smiles at me. "I want to thank you. She may be dead now, but you risked your life to try and save hers. It was a stroke of bad luck that killed her, not you. I came to visit because I want you to know you hold no blame for my mother's death. Instead, I thank you that you were willing to give your life for hers. Not just anyone would do that." He stands and smiles at me. "I wish you good health, Jackie," he says, before he walks calmly out of the room. I remind myself to breathe. I can feel the tears coming on again. But not because I'm sad and bitter, but because maybe, just maybe, if the lady's son can forgive me, I can forgive me too. I hope. I turn my face towards the window again and watch the last of the sunset.