The heart monitor beeped quietly in the corner of the room. It was midday and Jonathan watched the waves of his father’s heart beat pass the screen, after all, it was now the only proof he had left that his father was still alive. It had been one and a half years since Johnathan had spoken to his father. In fact, it had been one and a half years since his father even looked at him. The last time he had any type of communication with him was before his father had fallen into a coma.
Johnathan pushed his chair forward and placed a lean hand onto his father’s. The feel of his father’s soft skin still felt familiar beneath his palm but his face had completely changed. Grey hair had begun to protrude from his head and he now held a medium sized beard upon his face. John thought it looked strange, and sometimes, he felt as if his father appeared much more like a stranger than his dad.
“The doctors are saying visiting hours are over.” He turned to find his mother sitting at the end of his father’s bed. If anything, Johnathan would say that his mother had definitely become a complete stranger. The glee and optimism that once used to fill her face, were stolen, to be replaced with dark, heavy bags that severely weighed down her grey eyes. Sadness had eaten away at her and the bony remnants were visible under her fitting blouse. Johnathan paused in his thoughts for a moment and chuckled. Frankly, he could say the same about himself.
John bent and placed quick kiss on his father’s forehead, “Bye dad, have a good sleep. See you tomorrow.”
The drive home for Johnathan was short and both, himself and his mother, walked into the flat in silence. The rooms were dark as John walked through them so he headed towards the living room windows and pushed open the heavy curtains.
“Close them,” his mother’s voice was stern behind him as she reclined on the sofa and puffed on a cigarette.
“Why?” Annoyance crossed John’s face as he turned to see her.
“Hang over. My head hurts.”
“Then don’t drink so much alcohol.” John crossed his arms defiantly but his mother just sighed and turned her face away from the light.
The smoking and alcohol addiction had begun a year ago after his dad fell ill. Johnathan had to multiple times, drag his mother out of bars, vomiting, because of her alcohol intake. He took it upon himself to take his mother to the GP and, now, she had been prescribed anti-depressants and sleeping pills.
John felt sorry for her sometimes. He had college to go to, to distract himself from his father’s absence, but his mother was completely alone. She had no work so she spent her time opening her heart out to alcohol and smoking.
John popped out two blue pills and filled a mug with water. He walked back to his mother who was vacantly staring into the distance.
“Here mum. Your meds.” She refused to register his presence. “Mum you should take them, you’ll feel better.” Gently, he touched his mother’s bony shoulders. She quickly glanced up at him but did not reply. “Ok, fine. I’ll leave them on the side. If you need anything, give me a shout. I’ll be in my room, working.”
He placed the mug and pills on a vintage coffee table beside the sofa and turned to leave the room.
“Why do you bother?” His mother finally spoke.
“Bother doing what?” John’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Your work.” His mother avoided his eyes as she spoke. “There’s no point, really. You’re always so busy with me and your dad anyway. You hardly get the time to work. You’ll probably fail your exams and you won’t get into your universities. Then you’ll just be… sad. Even if you did get in, what’d be the point? Your father’s not alive to hear it…”
She gulped down her pills without water and held the white mug in her hands.
“W-well… maybe I’m doing it for myself” John briskly paced into his bedroom and slammed the door, hard. Exhaling sharply, John kicked large textbooks sitting on the floor to the side. He didn’t need them anymore; his exams were finished. All that mattered now, was one last interview he was to attend tomorrow. It was John’s father’s dream for his son to study Physics at a credited university. Since then, John had adopted this dream as his own, pouring all he had into it.
John sat on his bed and sorted through his giant piles of interview books. He had memorised all the techniques possible, now, it was a case of revising them all before tomorrow. The interview had to be perfect. Truth be told, his mother was right, he yearned to make his father proud. Hours ticked by and the typical silence occupied the halls. Johnathan swayed in a backwards forwards motion repetitively and his eyes were possessed with intense concentration.
Suddenly, loud wailing pierced the quiet house and Johnathan jumped, astonished.
“Mum? Mum!” he sprinted through the corridor. “What’s wrong?” His mother held her head in her hands as if her neck was too weak to hold it up. Her body shook with sobs and, instantly, John brought his mother into his arms. “Mum, stop it. It’ll be ok. What’s wrong?” His mother continued to sob and the hairs on Jonathan’s arms stood up.
He held his mother as arm’s length. “Mum. Stop crying. Please tell me what the problem is.” She took a second to sit apart from her son. Fresh tears welled up once again in her eyes.
“Johnathan… It’s your father. The doctor’s called us to see him tomorrow… They didn’t say… John, I think he m-might not survive for much longer”
Jonathan felt young again. All he wanted to do was curl up into his mother’s arms but he stood to leave the room. He didn’t look at his mother.
“I…” he paused, “I have an interview tomorrow.”
***
The dark blue tie felt tight against his neck. John straightened out his collar and smoothed out his blazer. Yesterday evening after his short meeting with his mother, the nervousness about the interview had left him; he felt nothing. He felt numb.
“Jonathon Elliot.”
“Hi.” He shook hands with a young man.
“Please have a seat” The man fiddled with paper. “So Johnathan… Why have you chosen Imperial?”
A lump formed in John’s throat, “Well… from a young age Imperial had been the university I had wanted to study in.” John opened his mouth hoping for more to come, but his mind was blank. The interviewer’s eye brows rose as he briskly took notes on a blank page. More and more question followed and Johnathan’s heart dropped. Words immediately flew from his mouth but Johnathan did not register even a single sentence
The interviewer blinked twice and his pen turned vigorously on the paper. “That’s all for now. Thank you Johnathan, you’ll know the results in the next two days.”
Cold sweat covered Johnathan’s neck. He had probably ruined it all. He gulped twice and calmly walked through the corridor, turning right then left. Where was he going?
His pace fastened and soon he came before a lift. Panic surged into his body. What had he done? Johnathan jabbed the lift buttons and stepped inside. Moisture crept into eyes and he leant back into the edge of the lift, against the level buttons. The lift flowed upwards but Johnathan began to feel suffocated. He paced briskly, thoughts whirling in his brain. What had he done?
Air rushed into John’s face as the doors flew open. The roof. Chills ran down Johnathan’s spine as he stepped out. He was a disappointment to everyone. Himself, his mother and his father.
“No!” Johnathan’s scream echoed into the air. He had wanted to make his father proud. He had wanted to study Physics at this University. He wanted to make his mother smile. And he, for once, wanted to feel happy. “I’m s-sorry! D-d-dad… I’m sorry…” Tears poured from his eyes. John bent his head back and screamed once again.
Agony stabbed his gut. Johnathan stumbled, drunk with tears, to the edge of the rooftop. “I hate you! Why do you have to die? Why do you have to leave me to deal with mum? I’m sick and tired of this…” Hi phone rung in his pocket. It was his mother. In one movement, he hurled the mobile into the air and it dropped to its imminent death.
“I can’t… what’s the point?” He held the edge of the rooftop for support. Emotions swirled through him. “Mum’s right, if dad’s not alive… what’s the point?” The pain was excruciating as it ripped through his every fibre. Pressure built on his back and he bent forwards and groaned.
“Dad… I can’t… I’m s-orry.” Suddenly, John’s breathing calmed. His anger left him and he slowly stood, gazing at the streets fourteen floors below him.
John heaved his weight onto the ledge. The pleasant heat of the sun felt warm on his back. Beneath him, the roads were calm and the beautiful twittering of birds filled the air around him. It had now become Johnathan’s favourite place.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. The moments after were peaceful. The birds continued to twitter as John’s fragile frame fell silently through the air.
***
Mrs Elliot sat beside her husband smiling. “I’m so proud of him Stephen, he got in. The results came through today. I didn’t think he would get in but he did! Do you believe it?”
Mr Elliot grinned widely and hugged his wife, tight, “I knew he’d be able to do it. I can’t wait to see him. Do you know where he is?”

“I’ve been calling him since you woke up yesterday afternoon but he’s not picking up. He’s probably out partying with his friends. Don’t worry, he’ll come to see you. He’ll be back soon.”