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I try to slowly breathe in and out but I can’t. The blood drains from my face. I’m about to throw up. Frantically, I scan the corridor, looking for an emergency exit. Anything to get me away from her room, this floor, this hospital. Spotting an exit sign, I make a run for it. I slam the door open and grab the railing of the stairs leading to the parking lot.
A warm breeze heats my cold arms. Slumping against the fence, I start to hyperventilate, and bury my face in my hands. My head starts to spin; I don’t know what to do. Leaning forward, I put my head between my knees, swallowing back the bile rising in the back of my throat.
Pinching my eyes shut, I try to forget what happened. Why did I leave her alone in her room? Why did I yell at her? Why? Why? I slam my hand into the iron bar. It hurts like hell.
“Fuck,” I huff, flexing my fingers. I let the tears spill over. I don’t care. My inked hands shake. Everything hurts. I am going to lose her. The thought echoes through my head. I am going to lose her. I lean my temple against the balustrade, staring out over the packed parking lot.
A couple of nurses pass me; I don’t say hello. I want to be alone. Remembering what my sponsor said, I try to calm myself. Never let anger be the solution when love is the answer. I hate my NA sponsor’s hippie Yoda quotes.
The door opens again.
“There you are,” Jay murmurs, carrying two cups of coffee.
I turn my gaze, pulling my hoodie over my head. I don’t want him to see my tears. “Here I fucking am.”
“Scoot over, will ya?” he asks, taking his seat next to me. He hands me a coffee. “What a fucked up week, kid.” He clears his throat.
“I was so scared,” I confess. I’m nauseous as hell. I haven’t slept much these last days. I feel like roadkill and probably look even worse.
He nods. Jay’s eyes are as red as mine.
He sips from the coffee not saying anything for a while.
“Can I bum a smoke?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Sure.” I pull out my Lucky Strikes from my back pocket and hand him the pack.
Jay takes the Zippo lighter from me and lights one up. He inhales deep, and blows out through his nose. “Man, I haven’t had one of these in years.”
“Makes one of us.” My fingers are shaking like hell as I light my cigarette.
“How are you holding up, son?”
“What kind of question is that?” I ask. “It is what it is.” I’m still holding the cigarette between my teeth. “Why does it hurt like this?” I ask, mostly to myself.
“Because we both love her.”
“Jay—”
“No, son. It’s okay.” His voice is strained and sad. “Sounds sappy as fuck.” The side of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile, instead he puts the cigarette between his lips with trembling fingers. “The doctor told me they’re afraid of her getting pneumonia, she can’t really breathe, or swallow like she used to. She should stay in the hospital so they can monitor her, and put her on antibiotics.”
I look at him, and the tears barreling down his cheeks. “She’s not going to do that, is she?”
He shakes his head, “No.”
I grunt, shaking my head, fuck Shorty. “I should have noticed something was wrong with her. The way she slurred her words, the way her voice changed. Damn, and all the times I caught her when she almost fell.”
“She didn’t want you to know,” Jay says.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything between us,” I mutter. I flick my Zippo open and light another cigarette, then drag a restless hand over my stubble. “I can’t feel anything.”
Jay puts his arm around my shoulder.
“Why did it happen to her? I fucked up so bad. Why can’t it be me?” I ask.
He stares out to the parking lot. “I don’t know the answer. Sometimes things don’t make sense. You can’t blame yourself for something you have no part in.” He shakes his head, letting his arm drop from my shoulder. “But I’ve been asking myself the same question.” His brows descend, and he looks ten years older. “Why couldn’t it be me?” Jay says slowly. “God knows, I deserved it. But you need to have faith.”
“Faith,” I say angrily, blowing out the smoke through my nose. “Fuck faith.”
