Z is for Zero Days Left to Live #atozchallenge #ShortStory

My theme for 2021 is a Young Adult short story. A double-date in the 1990s. An established teen couple sets up their best friends with each other, but it doesn't go well.

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Today's word count is approximately: 660 words

Z is for Zero Days Left to Live

Nothing feels real. Lance practically falls into the chair beside the bed, his legs shaking under him. The quake runs through him, finally breaking the damn at his eyes. He buries his face against me, soaking my shirt. I hold him as best I can. 

Madelyn went straight for the anger phase of grief. She blamed me for letting it happen, her parents for sending him away that night, Lance for suggesting Chinese food, and herself for not planning a date with a sit-down meal built-in. There was screaming, praying, and crying. I don't know which she did more. I tuned out at some point.

I kept replaying Lance driving to the hospital. I was accustomed to his speeding by now, but this was different. From the backseat, Yohann's head in my lap with a cold rag against his face, I swore the car was flying. Red lights and stop signs were all ignored. I half thought the Chevy was going to drive into the hospital instead of stopping at the curb. 

Then there were the questions. So many questions. Was Yohann's family from the Mediterranean? Why couldn't we reach his mother? How did his father die? 

Yohann vomited. Lance screamed at the doctor to quit asking questions and help already. He grabbed the young man by his white jacket and then threw-up all over him. He apologized and sat down, putting his head between his legs and crying. 

I held Yohann's hand while a nurse put an IV in. Lance used the bedside phone to call Yohann's mom, again, and leave yet another frantic message.

"They think he has Glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase. I don't know what the hell that means! Please check your damn messages and call back."

Yohann whispered to me, "business trip," before he passed out.

Lance and I went to Yohann's house this morning. The name of the hotel Yohann's mom was supposed to be at was on the fridge. Lance called, but there was no record of her. After digging through some things, he found an address book with the number for her work. He called and asked where the company sent her. They said she was on a personal vacation with her son.

"He's laid up in the hospital, so I doubt that. If she checks in, tell her that her son is dying and ask her to call Lance." He slammed the phone down on the receiver. Then ripped the whole thing off the wall and smashed it.

I decided not to give him crap about the mess. What kind of irresponsible parent doesn't leave a way to be reached? Anything could have happened! 

Anything did happen.

I used another phone to call the number in the address book that Lance was pretty sure was Yohann's cousin. It turned out that cousin was more of the loose term, as their dads had been best friends, but not actually related. 

"His parents are both siblingless. Unlike my dad, who has six brothers and three sisters. The grandparents got down in their day, you know what I'm saying?"

I laughed uncomfortably and ended the call. The phone rang in my hands.

The woman on the other end said she was calling from the hospital and asked for Yohann's mom.

"We're here looking for her. Has there been a change?" I mouthed to Lance that the hospital was on the line.

"I can't release that information. Please have her call as soon as possible." 

Lance grabbed the phone. "I'm the family he's got right now. Is he okay?"

He dropped the phone.

"We have to go."

I don't remember the ride here. I don't know where we parked. I barely remember being in the elevator, holding on to Lance, feeling water running down my face.

Now there's the smell of bleach and lemon. A motionless lump under a white sheet. A bag with Yohann's name. 

And machines that are too quiet. 

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Did you enjoy this story? It's currently about 10,000 words. It could become longer and turn into a novel. Is there a market for YA fiction set 25 years ago?

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Right now, it looks like he died for the shock value. (Or to teach you about fava beans killing people - Glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase, which was slightly exaggerated in timing during these last two letters.) But the death might be motivation if the story continues. 

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Thank you for reading! 

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My Twitter would be @PenMinion - but I'm suspended right now. I used a quote from a comedian to threaten my self-critical inner voices. I didn't know that voices in my head were protected by Twitter's TOS. But they are. And even though the comedian has a Twitter account, and the quoted joke is available as a gif on Twitter, it was still a violation of the TOS. (And possibly racist?) Feel free to scroll this blog to learn more. I have several posts about it. In the meantime, never threaten inner voices of self-doubt, because you can be kicked off of social media for such an action. 

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Please let me know who you are on the Master List if you're doing a to z-- I'd like to visit you too!

Have a puuuurfect day. 🐈