Historical+Fiction+Draft+2

Posted on 03.05.2009

Preface:

“I have never been alone in my life. There was always somebody there to hold out a helping hand. Yet now, as I stand before the twin coffins, with the merciless Hong Kong sun aiming its torrid rays at my back, I realize that I could depend my life on no one. It feels like someone is taking me by my shoulders, shaking me, waking me from my sweet, easy dream, and introducing me to the real world. The handrails are gone. I am on my own.”

...

The sharp, high ring of the home phone pierced the late-night atmosphere, stirring Courtney Harrington from sleep. Her eyelids were still half closed over her pink pupils when she gazed at her digital alarm clock beside her bed: 11:53PM, 03-14-2003. Courtney mentally added five minutes to the time, for the clock was inaccurate. Father has yet to fix it for her, when he comes home from his business trip.

“I’ll get it!” Elle—Courtney’s mother—called from the master bedroom across the hall. Her soft footsteps could be heard as she made her way to the living room. A click echoed throughout the New York City apartment as Elle picked up the receiver.

Courtney fell back onto her queen-sized bed, her white-blonde hair spread out like a fan on her pillow. She was able to hear Elle’s voice, but unable to make out the gist of the conversation because Elle’s voice was too low and it seemed to be in another language. Courtney closed her eyes and tried to rest. However, sleep did not answer to her call. A strange feeling kept her from slipping into a coma-like stage. It was a sensation she has never experienced before. Her heart rate quickened, and an uneasy aura fell over the seventeen-year-old albino.

Slipping into her baby-blue Uggs, Courtney headed for the living room, switching on lights as she passed them. She was sweating a bit now, though the First Avenue apartment was at just the right temperature. For the first time, Courtney feared what she felt. Something was not right. I feel like I’m about to lose something. Elle’s conversation seemed to be ending. Something very important. The discomfort followed Courtney like a shadow as she walked. She had not the least idea where the negative feeling was coming from. But she was sure that the sensation was genuine.

The living room lights lit up the ordinary—the periwinkle-blue sofa on the polished floor, the flat screen television on the off-white wall, and the home gym beside the filled bookshelves. Elle was standing in the space between the sofa and the coffee table, starring absently into space.

Courtney’s footsteps brought Elle back to reality. “Oh, Courtney!” Elle addressed her daughter. She replaced the receiver she had been gripping and said without much emotion, “Pack your belongings. I put your suitcase in your closet. We are flying to Hong Kong tomorrow.” She gazed at the clock above the television: 12:02AM. “Well, today.”

Courtney gave her mother a confused look. This was unexpected. It was highly unusual for her family to travel at last notice. Elle and her husband, Richard, preferred to plan ahead of time. This way, they avoided many mistakes. “Why?” Courtney furrowed her eyebrows. “I have my NYU orientation tomorrow night, you know that.”

Elle did not look at her daughter as she dialled the Cathy Pacific Airline number. “You don’t have to go to that. It’s optional.” She paused. “The matter at hand is more critical.”

“What matter at hand?” Courtney demanded.

There was a period of near-silence as Elle gave the person on the other side of the line the required information. Courtney stood at the edge of the area rug, pondering on the last-minute decision. What event of such importance occurred that she must leave so soon? Father is in Hong Kong for a business trip, Courtney realized. But surely nothing terrible has happened to him, right?

Elle turned back to Courtney, having brought two business tickets to Hong Kong, departing at two o’clock in the afternoon. “The matter at hand…” Elle trailed off, hesitating, carefully choosing her next words. Tears were gathering around her eyes, she blinked them away quickly, unwilling to have her daughter witness her crying. There’s no reason to cry now, she told herself. Everything is going to be fine… hopefully. “Your father is ill,” She told Courtney matter-of-factly, hiding the worry in her voice. “He is in a bad medical condition, and he is not doing well. Therefore, we are going to him—to Hong Kong—to visit him and give him the spiritual support he needs.” Elle knew the last line sounded lame, but she knew she could not repeat every world the doctor had said to Courtney. She is still a young adult inside. Even if Courtney knew that Richard was diagnosed with a new and unidentified sickness, she would not know what to do. It’s better to keep her in the shadows, for now.

“Oh,” Courtney let out. Just as Elle thought, she knew not what to do. She saw the sadness and anxiousness in her mother’s exceptionally dark eyes, but she did not know how to comfort her. The only thing she knew she must do was to pack her bags.

...

JFK airport was not especially crowded this time of the year. Elle checked in for Courtney and herself quite quickly. They were ushered to the metal detectors and carry-on bag x-rays. Elle then led Courtney—who hated to be left alone in an airport—to their waiting area. Being thirty minutes early, they sat on the cushioned chairs, warped in their own thoughts.

“Mother,” Courtney said after a while of silence. “What will happen to Father?” The question sounded light, but the meaning behind it brought a heavy atmosphere.

Elle’s breath caught. She didn’t want to think of her husband’s condition. The doctor’s voice over the phone was layered with concern and pity. Elle knew Richard was not moving away from Death’s gate, but rather towards it. And it hurt her deeply. She loved Richard more than she loved anything else combined. “Well,” She began. “I don’t know. That will depend on how the doctors treat him.” She shifted her position on the chair. “But I’m sure your father will be just fine.” She added.

Courtney nodded. There was one question that was bothering her. She wanted to ask it, say it, get it off her chest, but she knew it would only upset Elle further more. She sealed her mouth, trapping in the words that were threatening to escape. However, the question was boiling inside her, way past the containing point. She wanted to know. She needed to know. “What will happen to us if something happens to Father?” Courtney blurted. “Not necessary death, if that’s what you are thinking.” She added quickly, trying to smile, not wanted to open up a wound in Elle. But that was exactly what Courtney was thinking—Richard’s potential death.

Elle hid the emotions bubbling inside her. “Life will have to go on.” She replied simply.

...

It was frigid flying above the artic. Courtney could feel the hairs on her arm stand up, and hugged the given blanket tightly around her. Ten more hours to go, she thought. It was hard to believe that it took nearly sixteen hours to arrive at Hong Kong. Boredom was a dark cloud over Courtney’s head, constantly raining on her. Movies and television shows were provided, but it hurt her eyes to be starring at the screen for so long. Her legs arched and cried out for movement, for blood flow, but it was too cold to be walking up and down the aisle.

Dinner was just served half an hour ago. Courtney could feel the extra weight she now carried. The lights were turned off and the windows were shut, creating a feeling of night in the plane. Elle was asleep with a magazine in her grip. She twisted around in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position which she could sleep in. Though the seat was large, it was discomfort however she sat. It was always a mystery to her how Elle could sleep in any setting. It was a pity that Courtney did not inherit that trait.

Nine hours and forty-five minutes to go, Courtney counted, feeling dark circles being drawn under her eyes. I hope Father is okay…

...

Hong Kong was a busy city. Just like some other financial centres, it did not escape pollution. The air was thick and seemed to be unnatural. Somewhat like Manhattan, its streets were crowded with buses and other vehicles, and its sky was carpeted with buildings and skyscrapers.

After Elle led Courtney through baggage-claim and passport check, they settled at a small restaurant in the Hong Kong airport. Courtney stared at the bowl of noodles in front of her without really seeing it. She could not stop worrying about Richard. Something about the way Elle was acting made her think that her father’s condition was worse than it sounded. And the uneasy feeling she had the night before did nothing to comfort the situation. A Chinese man sitting at the table beside Courtney and Elle had a coughing fit. The noise brought Courtney back to reality. She noticed the untouched food and ate it without tasting.

Courtney walked out of the airport and set foot on her mother’s homeland with little emotion. The only thing on her mind was Richard’s condition. It had been occupying her for nearly the whole flight. Her overactive imagination created multiple worse scenarios. At times, she found herself silently crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Being twelve hours ahead of New York, it was evening in Hong Kong. The stars and moon were barely visible among the tall buildings. Still in New York time, Courtney was wide awake in the dark of dusk. She itched to run to see her father, but visiting hours at Queen Elizabeth Hospital was in the afternoon. She was forced to lay down on bed, haunted by her own imagination.

...

Queen Elizabeth Hospital was located in Hong Kong Island; a mere fifteen minutes on taxi from the hotel Elle and Courtney lived in.

Richard’s doctor—Dr. Lei—was standing in front of his patient’s room when Elle and Courtney arrived. There was an odd expression on Dr. Lei’s face. It looked like a maelstrom of sadness, sympathy, irritation, and confusion, but Courtney was not too sure. A thin curtain and glass separated Courtney and her father. She peeked through the gaps in the curtain. Richard was drained of colour, nearly as white as her. His blonde hair seemed to have more grey in it now. Courtney’s heart pounced at the idea that Richard was already a goner. But there was a small movement when he breathed—with difficulty—and Courtney relaxed a little.

Dr. Lei greeted Richard’s family members with accented English. He looked the same as the other faces Courtney saw on the streets—dark hair, dark eyes, and yellowish skin. Courtney always stood out and attracted more stares than she would have liked. Her albino features did not go very well with almond-shaped eyes. Not here, at least.

“How is he? Is he getting better?” Elle questioned, suddenly frantic. “Did they identify the disease yet?”

Courtney thought she saw the doctor wince. She instantly knew she would not like the answer. “I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs. Harrington, but Mr. Harrington’s condition has not changed,” Dr. Lei informed them, pity layering his tone. “But the World Health Organization has identified the illness.”

“What is it?” Courtney asked, as concerned as Elle was.

Dr. Lei lowered his voice a fraction. “Well, it was identified just yesterday, the fifteenth. They call it the severe acute respiratory syndrome—SARS.” Courtney gave a confused look. She was not familiar with this disease. But again, it was a new sickness. Noting the daughter’s puzzled expression, Dr. Lei explained, “SARS usually spread during close contact. It is also airborne, meaning it could spread by air. It’s a highly infective illness that has symptoms of severe pneumonia. Mr. Harrington must have caught it when someone with SARS coughed and he breathed it in.”

Courtney asked the question that was bubbling in Elle mind. “What is the cure?”

Dr. Lei’s tone reflected genuine sympathy. “Mrs. Harrington, SARS is a new illness, there is no cure yet.”

Elle was awfully quiet. “Mother? What’s wrong?” Courtney asked, but Elle’s troubled expression did not alter into something more pleasant.

Finally she spoke. “Dr. Lei,” Elle said. “I know I’m probably just paranoid, but you said that this… SARS…” She could not bring herself to say the word without thinking about her husband, lying on the hospital bed, suffering from a new, deadly illness. “…could be transmitted by air?” Dr. Lei nodded, beginning to see the point of her question.

Elle touched the tips of her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I might just be worrying about nothing, but…” She looked to her husband’s direction. “There was this man in the restaurant at the airport. Well, he was having a coughing fit. Several of them, in fact. I understand that it might only be from a common cold or something minor, but at a time like this… I’m afraid it is something more serious.”

Courtney’s breath caught. She started to argue, but her next words were stuck in her throat when she realized how much she actually agreed with her mother.

Dr. Lei’s face grew grave and his tone turned frantic. “Mrs. Harrington, I must put you and your daughter in isolation at once.” Courtney suddenly felt fear. “You might not show any symptoms yet, and you might not have SARS, but we need to take precautions. We need to stop this disease from spreading. It is strangling this city as we speak.”

...

On March 27th, to avoid SARS spreading among schoolchildren, the head of the Hong Kong Education and Manpower Bureau cancelled all classes. Courtney found that she was not infected with SARS.

On March 30th, Hong Kong authorities isolated the Amoy Gardens Apartment’s estate E due to a huge outbreak in the building. Elle received the dire news that she, like her husband, was one of the many victims of SARS.

...

Courtney adjusted her baby-blue surgical mask before she entered her mother’s isolated hospital room. She knew she looked ridiculous in the blue surgical gown, goggles, gloves, and this thing that resembled a shower cap sitting on her head. The doctors and nurses had made her wear these protective garments, to prevent someone else getting infected with SARS and spreading to others.

Elle was lying on the hospital bed, her head supported by two pillows. She was surrounded by machines that beeped at regular interval.

“Mother…” Courtney choked. It hurt to see Elle looking so… vulnerable. It hurt even more to know that Richard was in another room, his hourglass glued to the table.

Courtney thought she saw her mother smile. It was difficult to tell because Elle was having a coughing fit. “You shouldn’t be here, sweets,” Elle’s voice was hoarse. Sweets, Elle had only called Courtney that a handful times. Courtney mentally tucked that memory in her heart.

“I wanted to see you… and Father,” Courtney replied.

Elle coughed, mucus rumbling from inside her lungs. “Since you are here… let’s talk. I get bored sleeping all the time.”

Courtney nodded. Her mother’s life was also an hourglass.

“Sweets,” Elle began. “Your birthday is coming soon… eighteen—that’s big. You know how to care for yourself, don’t you? When your father and I are gone, you will be on your own.”

“No!” Courtney responded automatically. “No! You and Father won’t die! Not that soon!” She exclaimed, even though she knew well that a cure has not yet been found. “And I do not want to be on my own. Alone is bad.”

Elle smiled sadly at her dependent daughter. It is funny, she thought, how one must be at Death’s door to realize the wrong she has done. Elle regretted nearly every day Courtney lived. She did not—and never will—be remorseful about giving birth to her, but Elle regretted letting her husband and herself spoil her only child. They did not spoil Courtney with materials, but instead with the feeling of safety. Though we did not know it, we had taught our daughter to depend on others. And now, even as an adult, she cannot see that she is her own responsibility. How can she survive in the real world?

I have failed her.

...

By April 2nd, there were 361 new cases of SARS and 9 new deaths in China’s southern Guangdong province. Elle and Richard’s condition did not seem to change. Instead, it was worsening.

On April 22nd, Hong Kong schools began to reopen in stages. The once lively city was almost eerie, with few people wandering on its streets and all wearing surgical masks as they avoided physical contact.

April 26th, as the death toll continued to raise, Chinese authorities shut down entertainment centres in Beijing. Courtney’s eighteenth birthday. She lived alone in Hong Kong, putting all her expenses on Richard’s credit card. Her parents were still struggling with the life-threatening illness.

...

Elle and Richard perished on a sunny day at the beginning of May. Courtney was left as an orphan with no more guidance in life from her parents.

...

The bank statement came the morning of the funeral. Dressed head to toe in all sorrowful black, Courtney ripped open the envelope, a piece of paper dropped to the table. She picked it up with tear-stained hands and her eyes widened at the figure typed neatly on the bottom of the page. Did I really spend that much?

Courtney sank onto the hotel armchair and wept. She cried for her dead parents and she shed tears for herself. The money she had could cover the large debt, but she’d be left with almost nothing. Elle and Richard had donated most of their fortune to charity and willed only little to Courtney. How am I going to live? A few days ago, she had thought that Richard would get well and pay for all her expenses for the past month. But sweet dreams are over. Richard and Elle were gone. What do I do?! Courtney knew the answer: she’d had to work and support herself. Her insides turned at the idea, she loathed being on her own. And so Courtney wept.

Epilogue:

“They are gone, so quietly, so silently. I wonder if they were in any pain, if they were pleased that the end came for them. I am thinking of that as I stand before the twin coffins, with the merciless Hong Kong sun aiming its torrid rays on my back. I am all alone now. It took one bank statement to wake me from my sweet dream, to see the world as it is, to see how stupid, foolish, and dependent I was. There is no harness—I am freefalling into the unknown depths.

“But I reel myself back in. I don’t have to freefall. No, not at all—I can fly.”

...

September.

Courtney Harrington gazed at the digital clock beside her bed. 07:03AM, it read. She mentally added five minutes to the time, but stopped herself. She picked up the clock and experimented with the tiny buttons set on its sides. The first button made the date change. Courtney pressed the second button five times, and the clock read accurately. That wasn’t so hard. I never had to depend on Father to fix this for me. I never had to and still don’t have to depend on anyone at all.

...

By May of 2003, there have been 1,714 cases of SARS in Hong Kong. 1,213 of them recovered. And 251 infected patients passed away.