A Guilty Affliction

By Thomas Heerema

Matthew, modestly insightful, and reserved, is a twenty-three-year-old dental student living in Boston. After waking up in a hospital bed to see his parents and sister, he learns that he has survived a car accident, having been hit by a drunk driver. Experiencing symptoms from his concussion, he follows the orders of his doctor and remains out of classes. Quickly, in addition to the physical pain, he discovers that he has no memory of the crash or the time leading up to it. In the following two weeks, the pain in Matthew's stomach and head grows worse. Regarding his lack of memory from before the crash, curiosity turns to frustration, which turns to anger, which turns to obsession. As his condition worsens, Matt regrettably touches his family with his own physical and psychological distress, tainting his relationships with them. Through a series of vivid flashbacks interwoven throughout the ongoing plot, a bizarre picture of Matthew's life becomes slowly uncovered. Throughout his strange journey to physical and mental recovery, Matthew questions the nature of his existence, and the suffering inherent to life, while trying to put the broken pieces of his memory back together. As the story carries on, the reader is dragged down with Matthew into the darkness and confusion of his own damaged mind. The semi-chronological plot advances, and holes in the story become filled, revealing a more complex story than initially portrayed. The narrative of Matthew and his family in the weeks following the crash continues to develop in a confusing way until the final scenes, when all becomes clear regarding Matthew's life and the sentiment of the work as a whole.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643502595

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A Guilty Affliction

Thomas Heerema

Copyright © 2018 Thomas Heerema

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64350-258-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-259-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.

– Carl Jung

A note from the author

There are a few things which every human being can relate to, a set of essential forces that inevitably weigh on all of us. In any life, no matter what the causes may be, an array of experience exists, from elation to misery, love to hate, and euphoria to suffering. These emotions are the universal elements which bind us all to the common human experience, regardless of time or location. Each person is confronted by these core characteristics of life, and each person must make something of them.

This is the story of a young man who is faced with solving the enigma of his own existence. The circumstances of his crisis are unique, but the nature of it is not. If nothing else, I hope that reading this may help to illuminate the value in discerning life’s inherent and sometimes cruel ambiguity, and to make clear the necessity of kindling the light in one’s own existence.

Prologue

Aman is walking slowly down a hallway. He doesn’t recognize his surroundings, and as he goes, a sense of amnesia echoes quietly through his mind. The man doesn’t know why he is here, or what destination he will reach, but he walks with apparent conviction.

The voices of reason and logic have long since gone silent in the man’s mind, yet his mechanical function remains completely uninhibited. He makes no attempt to recall why he is here, where he is going, or what is happening to him. Instead, he embraces the feeling, pacing on without a thought traveling through his mind. What little discomfort he feels resides entirely in his gut, where a faint throbbing sensation comes and goes with each step.

The man reaches a door. He stops and looks at it. He knows he is going to go through it, and only the slightest sensation in the back of his mind urges him to reconsider. He’s lost all trust for the default function of his mind, though, and only addresses this feeling of doubt as an innate formality. He grasps the cool metal handle, and feeling finds restoration in his body. A rush of physical sensation travels through his palm, up his arm, and throughout the nerves in his entire body. The waves of ambient silence in the air translate to a ringing when inside his ears. He opens the door.

The man is in the back of a courtroom, but no trial or discussion is occurring. It is completely silent here, and the room is full of people, all turned away from the man who has just entered looking toward the front. His attention shifts there as well. At the front of the room, three men shrouded in black cloaks stand omnisciently.

Still, no questions arise in his mind as to where he is, or what he may be experiencing. He simply watches the men in fascination. Each wears a draping, long, black robe, with the lips of their hoods casting shadows over their faces. As he watches these men, he feels an obsession with them growing. He feels as if he has been thinking about them his entire life, though he has only just become aware of their existence.

The man knows to respectfully take his seat in the back row, as a new born child knows to breath. As he lowers his weight onto the bench, his mind settles into a deeper level of relaxation. He can finally rest.

Frictionless, his eyes drag across the room as he examines his peers for the first time. Men and women, boys and girls, people wearing suits, and people wearing rags all surround him. He looks to his left, ten feet down the row sits a middle aged woman. She has dark skin, and wears a beautiful white dress. The spotless silky fabric spills over the dark oak wood bench.

She turns her head and looks to the man. Her stare is blank and expressionless. The absence of emotion in her eyes mutates his euphoria into an eerie turbulence, and the once subtle pain in his stomach grows firmer with each throb. Despite this, though, the man is calm. Free of hindrance and thought, he begins waiting patiently.

I

L ook. Look, Bec. He’s waking up, a mother said excitedly as she nudged the shoulder of her daughter.

I see! I’ll go run and get Dad. You tell the nurse, her daughter replied.

Hey, Matt, the mother said to her son. I’m so glad you’re okay. She kissed his head.

Matt was twenty-three years old, somewhat tall, and with thick brown hair. He was a student at Tuft’s dental school, and had survived a severe car accident, apparently unscathed.

Driving through Boston the previous Sunday night, Matt had been t-boned by a truck while he was passing through an intersection. The driver of the truck had run a red light, and was later found out to be drunk. Since that night, for more than two whole days, Matthew had been unconscious. Now, on the morning of the third day, he had finally woken up from his coma.

Mom? I’m in the hospital . . .? Matthew asked, confusedly examining his surroundings.

You are, but it’s all okay, sweetie. The doctor said you’re going to be one hundred percent fine, his mom, Patricia Coughlin, explained.

What . . . happened to me? Matthew asked in a slightly bewildered tone. He could not remember the events leading up to his being placed in a hospital bed.

Well, Matthew’s mother said as she leaned closer to him and squeezed his hand, you were out driving on Sunday night, and you got into an accident – a drunk driver crashed into your car. Even now that he was awake and fine, Matthew could still see the residual effects of his mother’s stress. I’ve never been so worried in my life, she said as she hugged him.

Matthew looked back at her blank faced. Still processing what he had just learned, and unsure what to say, he asked, Am I hurt at all?

No, Sweetie, you’re just fine. The doctors said it was almost a miracle, she explained with a grateful smile. Your doctor is a very nice old Indian man, and he seems to know exactly what to do.

She leaned over the side of Matt’s hospital bed and hugged him again before returning to her chair just a few feet away. She had scarcely left this spot in the two and a half days which Matt had been here, a book in hand always, but to concerned with her son’s health to actually read.

Is the other driver all right? Matthew asked, regaining his mental faculties after a long sleep.

Well, aside from a broken arm, a few stitches, and a serious DUI charge, he’ll be all right. He actually seems like a nice man, Matt’s mother explained. Your father went to talk about the insurance with him. You know your dad.

In her late fifties, Patricia was an extremely smart and kind woman, always full of energy and pleasant to be around. Despite her powerful brain, though, her body was aged and weak. She had arthritis in both hands, an ailment which wasn’t helped by the fact that most of her job involved typing. In her younger years, she was a researcher affiliated with Boston College, but had transitioned to a more administrative roll in recent time.

Only a few minutes had passed when Becca returned to the room with her father following shortly behind.

Matt, I was worried sick about you, his father, David Coughlin, said as he walked over to the bed and hugged his son. A very relieved smile showed through his usually tense demeanor as he did so. He too looked like he had not slept in days. Matt figured his father had likely been working at the hospital the entire time he had been there.

His dad stood alongside Matthew in his bed while his mother and sister stood close together at the foot of it.

Patricia and Becca spoke loudly to Matt, offering food and drinks, or anything to make him feel better. The rush of input was almost too much for Matt so soon after he had woken up, though. After a few minutes of groggy and brief responses to their comments, Matt’s mother and sister picked up on this.

You’re probably exhausted, Patricia said. Now that you’re awake I don’t have to worry anymore.

Matthew manufactured a smile in response.

Let’s go get something to eat, Patricia said, grabbing her daughter’s hand as she followed her husband out the door.

As Matthew watched his sister disappear into the hallway he smiled. She’d always been Matt’s closest friend in life, and he knew she must’ve been worried sick about him, just like his parents had been.

Matt recalled an incident when he had been with her in the hospital. When he was sixteen, one time, Becca had broken her leg skiing in New Hampshire. Their parents were away for their anniversary that weekend, and she had gone up to her friend’s ski house without telling them. She had been a good-natured kid. She didn’t usually break rules. Much like Matthew, though, she was friends with a wide net of people, including those who could have been classified distinctly as rule breakers.

This incident occurred only about a month after Matthew had gotten his license. Despite this and a wave of anxious panic, Matthew took his mother’s car, which his parents had left behind for the weekend, and drove to New Hampshire. He was scared to death on a highway for the first time in a snow storm, but his mind kept jumping back to the sound of Becca’s voice when she had called him a few hours before. She was obviously in a lot of pain, and he knew he had to help her.

Matthew eventually reached the house and brought Becca to a hospital. As he was just a sophomore in high school, he didn’t have much experience at hospitals in the absence of a legal guardian. Despite this, he was able to get Becca into the ER and into the hands of a doctor. He stayed with her overnight and waited for her to get her leg casted before they drove home. During the ride back, Becca cried and thanked Matthew for helping her. Matthew’s response to his sister’s obvious display of gratitude was quiet. He was not proud, only relieved, that he had been able to help sister.

Matthew dozed for twenty or thirty minutes before his mother and sister returned. They told him that his father had left because he had already missed too much work. Matthew didn’t mind. He just wanted to go home.

Shortly after his family had left the room, a doctor came in; it was the same man that his mother had described earlier. Dr. Sharma was his name.

So, Matthew, I am your doctor. You were very lucky to come out of this car accident so uninjured, you know, Dr. Sharma said. He seemed to be a nice man who cared for Matthew’s well being.

Yeah I guess I am. I can’t remember it at all though, and my head hurts, Matthew said with the hope that he would provide the necessary information in a premature manner. He wanted to go home.

You suffered a minor concussion, but you should be better in about a week or two. Just make sure that you rest as much as you can and you don’t overstress yourself, Dr. Sharma explained. And your memory should come back pretty soon. It can be a little overwhelming on your brain, waking up after a long sleep.

The conversation continued for a little while longer. Dr. Sharma asked Matthew the standard questions. Matthew attempted to retrieve the answers, which seemed so obscure through the fog that diluted his thoughts.

Dr. Sharma took Matt through a short concussion assessment to determine the severity of his head injury.

Following their conversation, Dr. Sharma said he was free to leave, and that he expected Matt would be feeling just fine within a week at the most, but to rest a little while longer than that.

Matthew tried to gather his thoughts. He had formed an image in his head of the events leading up to the accident. Still, he couldn’t determine if they were memories or a secondhand recreation of what his family had told him.

Matthew was beginning to become frustrated. It appeared to be very difficult for him to think with his concussion. He was especially worried that it would have an impact on his academic performance.

Matthew was in his second year of dental school. He was bright, and a very hard worker, but he knew missing any amount of class was not good. Like everyone else, he struggled enough with the rigorous curriculum. But there was nothing he could do. He would take ‘at least a week’ off like the doctor had told him, and he would make up his work later.

It was around noon when Matthew had woken up that morning. He had told his parents that he was fine and that they should go to work. Becca would drive him back to his apartment and make sure he was all right before leaving him to rest.

Becca was a student at BU undergrad. It was her senior year, and she was also hoping to become a dentist someday. Becca had always looked up to Matthew. He had been glad to know he was her role model. However, revisiting this idea as he climbed into the car with his sister distressed him slightly. He looked over at her in the driver’s seat of the car as she pulled out of the spot in the dimly lit parking garage. She was smiling; she always seemed so happy.

So how is Eric doing? Matthew asked.

Oh he’s great, you know we’re going to move into an apartment off campus soon, Becca said. She was always excited to talk about her boyfriend. Eric had gone to the same high school as them. He was two years younger than Matt, the same age as Becca, and he had swum on the High school team with Matt. Matt had always liked Eric. He was a good guy, and he made his sister happy.

When they had reached Matt’s apartment Becca parked on the side of the road before getting out of the car with the ease of a healthy person. As Matt pushed the door open and stood up, he quickly became light headed. A prickling sensation momentarily gathered in his forehead before disappearing moments later.

Are you all right? Becca asked, hurrying over to him.

Yeah, Matt responded, rubbing his head and blinking his eyes open. I guess the sun is just a little too bright for me. I haven’t seen it in days.

Walking up the single flight of stairs was tremendously tiring for Matthew. He had been in good shape before his accident, but the feeble energy that his body had conjured up since his wakening was hardly enough for him to function off.

Once they were in the apartment, Becca asked Matthew over and over if he needed anything at all. Matt attempted to convince her that he was fine, and he was. He just wanted to be alone. In his damaged state, he did not desire to do anything at all except sleep. Becca left him to do as he pleased.

***

A cab driver named Paul drove to his destination at the hospital that afternoon. He was a lanky Caucasian man in his early thirties who’d just left his wife and young children at home to begin another long shift.

Paul turned the radio off as he weaved through the side roads and pulled into the drop off loop at Mass General.

Paul had driving taxis for a many years. He’d spent many long hours alone in the car, considering quitting his job and if he could find another that paid well enough to support his family. But as he put the car into park and began to wait, Paul glanced at the picture of his two daughters pinned next to the rear view mirror and smiled.

A few minutes passed before a man dressed in a suit approached Paul’s cab and knocked on the window.

Paul unlocked the door and the man got in. How’re you doing, Paul asked, but the man made no response as if he hadn’t heard.

So, where’ll it be? he asked.

Forty-eight Stern Road, Belmont, the man responded, leaning forward and prying his eyelids open.

Paul proceeded to plug the address into the GPS mounted on his dashboard. Twenty-four minutes.

I’ll get you there in a flash, Paul said pulling out of the drop off loop and back onto the streets of Boston.

The man was quiet as the began to drive, closing his eyes and leaning back in the passenger seat. The man was older than Paul, in his late fifties, and looked exhausted.

A minute or two passed before the man spoke. I’m sorry, the man began, you asked how I was, didn’t you? he paused shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, I’m a bit preoccupied, how about you? he asked.

Oh it’s, Paul replied. Don’t worry about it, I’m doing just fine, he added, not wanting to push the man for an explanation.

My names David, the man said.

Mines Paul, he answered with a nod.

My son was in an accident, a car accident, David explained.

I’m very sorry to hear that, Paul responded thinking about his own kids. Unsure what else to say, and not trying to press this man for information, Paul continued driving in silence for a few moments.

Apart from a concussion, he’s mostly fine, David explained in a deflated tone.

That sounds like good news to me, Paul said.

It is . . ., David responded quietly, It’s was just terrifying.

To see your son in the hospital? Paul asked.

Well, David paused, "to be reminded just how out of our control it can be. That any day in the future I could get