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They each gave me a hug and left. I sighed and sank into the bed. I found myself touching my face. I recalled that day, the look on his face. What had driven him mad? What had he seen?
Mrs. Sanchesterand Nana came to see me the next day. I felt sad when she broke down, apologizing for what had happened. Nana made me watch a comedy show with her. It was nice to have a good laugh in the midst of the darkness. They stayed the whole day and left when it was starting to get late.
The next threedays in the hospital were boring. I was tired of watching the news, but I got a little addicted to the soap opera that made me so emotional that I cried.
I asked Mrs. Sanchester if I could speak to Tristan, but I was told he didn’t want to talk to me. Adrian agreed it was better for him not to contact me since he was still being treated.
I was so happy when I was informed I was getting discharged the next day. Vina visited me on my last day in the hospital. She arrived with my favorite milkshake and a bag of Cheetos.
“You look like Frankenstein,” she said, looking at my face.
“Come on. It’s not that bad.” I frowned, touching my face.
“Just kidding. So, have you heard from Tristan?” she asked, lying next to me.
“No, he doesn’t wanna speak to me. I have tried, but everyone thinks it’s better not to keep in contact with him.”
“But do you blame him for what happened?”
“Not at all. Something pissed him off, and he lost control. He wasn’t himself when I entered the room. It was like I was staring at a possessed Tristan. I tried to reach out to him, but this happened,” I said and sighed.
“I hope he receives enough help and gets better,” she whispered, stroking my hair as I rested my head on her shoulder.
“Me too. I wish I could speak to him.” I blinked my tears away.
“Are you drinking that milkshake or not? I won’t hesitate to take it back,” Vina said, and I put a protective hand around my drink.
She joined me to watch my favorite soap opera, and we drooled over the hot main lead.
Morris tookme home after I got discharged. He kept looking at me with pity, and I had to smile at him to convince him I was okay.
“If you need anything, Miss Simpson, I’m here,” he told me when we entered the house.
The house felt so empty as I climbed the stairs. I wondered how long Tristan was going to be at rehab. I entered my room and took a proper bath. After, I wore yoga pants and a white hoodie. I sat on the floor in front of the glass wall. I stared at the pool, recalling the night I had shown him the scar on my back. What I had with him was different, and I didn’t want that with anybody else. I wished he’d speak to me. Had he listened to any of my voice mails?
Maybe we brought out the worst in each other. We were perfectly imperfect, but what was beautiful about what we had was that when it got difficult between us, we found our way back to each other. No matter how many times I messed up, he still accepted me. I didn’t care how broken he was. I was willing to fight through this with him. If only he’d let me.
I missed him.
I left my room after a few hours and found myself in his room. His furniture had been replaced, and the room looked new. I lay on his bed and closed my eyes.
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, pulling the pillow to my chest.
There was a knock on the door.
“What?” I sighed, wanting to be alone.
The door opened, and Adrian walked in with a small smile. I sat up as he approached the bed.
“How are you?”
“Good,” I mumbled.
“Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space next to me.
“Sure.”
He sat down and brought out something from his pocket. “This is for you.” He extended it for me to take.
