Famer's Story-Writing Debate Round #1 Zaradi vs. Drafterman

I couldn't tell you how long I was sitting on the window ledge in my father's ICU room. I was too busy thinking about jumping. Was this a fluke or could I not really see death? Out of all the stupid stunts I pulled, I only did most of them because I figured, if there was a real chance of me dying, I'd know ahead of time, I'd see that timer inside of my head, ticking down to my grave. How many times did I come close without ever realizing it?As much as I thought about jumping, no timer appeared. Would it only work if I actually jumped? Was this some aspect of reality that would remain hidden to me? A voice from behind me broke my train of thought."Please don't, it'd make a hell of a mess and they'd probably make me clean it up."I couldn't help but smile, but I didn't turn around. I didn't want her to see either my tears or my smile. I was brooding and there is nothing worse than when someone successfully cheers you up when you want to be miserable. This didn't stop her from walking up next to me, leaning out of the window."I'm sorry about your father."I looked over at her. You always hear about the stereotypical sexy nurse but no matter how often I visited a hospital, I've never seen one. They were mostly old maids whose appearances no doubt encouraged people to get healthy quicker than normal. She was neither, which is to say that she was pretty, but clearly not the type of girl that would just seduce random strangers. The uniform left a lot to the imagination, but it was her face I was looking at. She had smooth, fair skin, her face framed by shoulder length brown hair. Her eyes were a striking sky blue. She was looking straight ahead, and not at much, of which I was thankful. I'm not sure I could have beared her looking at me, but I'm sure she knew I was looking at her.After a few minutes of silence I was able to muster a reply, "Thanks."I looked back out the window. The hospital parking lot four stories down was rimmed with a single line of trees. Beyond that extended large fields of farmland stretching to the horizon, forming large grid squares separated by roadways. The sun was behind the building at this time of day, giving us a clear view of the landscape before us. We sat there in silence for some time."You shouldn't blame yourself.""Is that what the script says?"She finally looked at me, puzzled. "What script?""The script they teach you to read when dealing with suicidal people.""Are you suicidal?"I gave the question some serious thought. My previously musings had been primarily academic, I'm not sure I had really considered the possibility until she asked just now."No... But it's still my fault.""Why?""Because if I hadn't been stupid and ran out into the street without thinking, he wouldn't have come after me and gotten hit by that car.""Ok, so it's your fault. Now what?"This took me aback; it was my turn to be puzzled - and angry. I glared back at her, meeting her eye-to-eye for the first time, "Excuse me?! Aren't you supposed to be comforting me? You know, talking me down from the ledge?"She turned to face me more fully, "You said you weren't suicidal, so I don't need to coddle you, do I? You said it was your fault. From what you describe, it is your fault. So the question is, 'What are you going to do now?'"I wasn't sure how to process this. This isn't how it happened in the movies or television. People just didn't confront you like this. It took me a while to get past the instinctive indignation and actually process the question she was asking me, but my anger still tainted my words."I don't know. It's not like I'll have to have a chance to not run out in the street and get my father killed. I'm all out of fathers!""Don't be obtuse. Did you learn anything?""Yeah, look both ways before crossing the street.""Don't be sarcastic. If you didn't learn anything then your father's death is meaningless. If you did, then, as tragic as this situation is, you can still come out being a better person than you were going in. What did you learn?"The room was suddenly hot as blood rushed to my face. I couldn't explain why she was making me so furious."I don't know! Think before you act? Consider the effects of your action on others?"She interrupted my tirade, "Were you usually an impulsive, selfish person?""I... what? What kind of question is that?"She merely looked at me. As I looked into her eyes I realized that I was becoming less angry. I couldn't explain why. Maybe some primal guy instinct that said: if I ever wanted to have a chance with her, I'd better be nice. Paradoxically, the less angry I was, the more angry I wanted to be. I wanted to explode and here she was, defusing me.Finally, I sighed, and looked down, "Yeah, I guess I was.""And now?""I don't know.""Good. I you don't know, then that means you have the opportunity to change. You know what you did wrong. So sit here and indulge in some self-pity for a while but, when you're done, you're going to have to keep living your life. Life is all about mistakes. If we don't make mistakes, we don't know what we're doing wrong. This mistake, yeah, it's a pretty big one. So make sure the lesson you learn - and apply - is also big."She placed her hand on my shoulder and smiled softly. She then walked over to the wall opposite the ICU beds and began erasing the whiteboard hanging there."But, don't take too long with that self-pity thing.""Why? Because life will pass me by?""No, because more patients will be coming into this room in a few minutes."She turned and gave me another smile before walking out of the room. I looked up at the whiteboard, it said:Nurse On Call: Ryan