They kept me in the hospital a total of four days. One day for stitching me up, and then the other three were some mandatory watch period to make sure I didn’t fuck up again. I had this nurse coming in every fifteen minutes or so all day every day asking me questions like, “On a scale from one to ten, one being the worst you’ve ever felt and ten feeling like you want to go outside and do cartwheels all day, how do you feel right now?” Though I wanted to answer “ten,” so maybe she’d let me out early or something, she’d know I was covering up and maybe I’d have to stay even longer. I always said “seven.”
Another time she came in and asked me if I liked to be touched. “Touched how?” I asked her. Like hugs and hand-holding and things like that, she responded. I nodded and she put her arms around my shoulders and pulled me close into her chest while I felt her chin come down on the top of my head with a warm breath that ruffled my hair. Wrapping her fingers around my hand she asked me if this made me feel good. I nodded again, bumping her head up and down. She let go of me and grabbed the uncomfortable-looking chair from the corner and scooted it really close to my bed. “What do you like to do for fun?” she asked, grabbing my hand again. I told her I didn’t really have any hobbies, which she thought was pretty sad and grabbed my hand even tighter. She asked me if I wanted to play a game of cards, to which I replied I didn’t know any card games. She gave me a really forlorn look and then left me alone until the next day to ask me about cartwheels.
Upon leaving the hospital on the fourth day, in a wheelchair of course, I started coughing and told the nurse we needed to go to the store in the hospital to get some cough medicine. I got a bottle of Vicks and a bottle of Nyquil because “I’m not sure which one I normally use.” The nurse pulled some strings and got me them for free. They wouldn’t let me leave alone, so I had to call up my friend Elise who lived about five miles from the hospital. I watched her pull up in her little black sedan and both she and the nurse helped me into the passenger’s seat, despite my cries of “really, I’m okay.” The nurse waved goodbye sadly before walking back through the automatic doors.
Neither of us said anything on the car ride home. I think Elise was one of the first people who found out; they told me she came and visited me right after it happened but I was too weak from blood loss and kept passing out. Speaking of blood, I wondered if anyone had cleaned up my bathroom while I was gone. About halfway to my apartment, Elise began crying so uncontrollably, completely spontaneously, that she had to pull the car over on the side of the road. The sounds of the cars whizzing by, Elise sobbing, and her hazard lights gently clicking formed a soothing yet discomforting lullaby. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I didn’t say anything and eventually she composed herself enough to continue driving, only emitting mild shudders followed by heavy sighs or sometimes heavy sighs followed by mild shudders intermittently for the rest of the trip.
She dropped me off outside my apartment. I said, “Thanks” and she nodded. I entered my apartment and noticed that everything remained as I left it. Someone did clean the bathroom. I felt as though I had all of the energy sapped out of me in the hospital, mostly because I did, so I lay down in my bed. After about an hour of tossing and turning, I grabbed the bottle of Nyquil and took a quick chug. It put me out instantly.
I woke up an indeterminate amount of time later to the phone ringing. It was Elise. She asked if I was okay; I told her that she woke me up. She apologized and I hung up without saying goodbye. What I guess was three hours later, I woke up just in time to hear a knock at the door. I opened it to find Sam, an old friend. We hadn’t hung out in a while, probably at least six months.
“What’s up man?” he asked, barging his way into my apartment. The tone in his voice implied that he didn’t know what happened, even though I was sure he did. He looked around my apartment, seeing that nothing had changed since the last time he’d been here, except maybe that the pile of dishes on the coffee table had grown exponentially as had the loose CDs floating around my stereo. He plopped down on the ratty old couch.
“Not a whole lot,” I responded. “I just got out of the hospital today; I guess you heard about that.”
“Yeah man,” he said, with a worried tone in his voice. He whipped a cigarette out of the breast pocket of his worn-out thrift store blazer and lit it up, letting that first puff of smoke billow out of his mouth as he spoke. “I’m, uh, sorry to hear about that.”
“Yeah.” I sat down on the ratty old recliner across from the couch. Sam pointed at his cigarette and popped up his eyebrows. I told him no thanks. He nodded and coughed out another burst of smoke.
“So are you down for doing anything tonight? Everyone really wants to see you. Elise told me you’re doing all right and she thinks it’d be good for you to come hang out tonight. I think we’re all going over to Rory’s place to chill; you know, knock back a few beers, watch some movies, I don’t know, smoke a few bowls or something. You know, like old times.”
“No thanks,” I replied, turning away from him.
“What’s wrong man? You know everyone cares about you, right? They just want to see you again. They want the old Alan back…you know? They just want to—“
Something inside of me cracked. This overwhelming wave of apathy and despair that had suffocated me for the past few weeks finally broke open and let forth all of these strange emotions that just slipped out of me as if I had no control over them. And in a way, I didn’t.
“It’s too late, Sam, it’s too fucking late. You had the old Alan, and now the new Alan doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with you, or Elise, or anyone else. I don’t need your fucking pity. I did what I did because I felt like it was the right thing to do, and I don’t have any regrets. The last thing I need is the pity party coming in here trying to cheer me up and pretend that we can just suddenly be back to normal. So really, you can leave if that’s all you want to do. In fact, you should probably just leave anyway.”
We sat in an inundating silence, the air so thickly steeped in utter hatred and bitterness that I don’t think Sam could have left even if he wanted. I couldn’t bear to look at him, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye stare at me for a while, and then dart his attention to the front wall, easing into this thousand-mile-stare. He let out an exasperated sigh.
“I had this dream,” I began, much calmer than before, “while I was in the hospital, the second night I think. We were at Rory’s, all of us: you, me, Elise, Rick, Jackie, Micah, Caroline, and even a few people I didn’t know. You guys were all sitting around smoking, talking about god knows what. I tried to say something, I don’t remember what, but I tried to talk to you guys and every time I opened my mouth, I just got a lungful of smoke. Eventually the whole room filled with smoke and I got down on my hands and knees and started crawling for the door, hacking and coughing and spewing up blood. But you guys just kept talking. I never did find the door; it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. You guys just kept talking and talking and I was crawling around on my hands and knees trying to scream but all I could do was watch you all get smothered in the smoke.”
“I’m sorry man. Really sorry,” Sam said as he stood up, heading for the door. You know where Rory’s is, come over if you feel like it. If not, have a good life. Sorry I couldn’t help make it any better.”
With that he slammed the door. I felt the rush of air sweep over my body and then equalize, leaving this unbearable emptiness in the room. I sat for a while, not looking at or thinking of anything in particular, and got up when I figured I’d go look at nothing and think about nothing somewhere else. I chugged the Vicks, that bottle of five-dollar freedom, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Elise called me a little bit later, wondering what I’d said to Sam to make him so upset. I told her I didn’t know. She asked me if I was coming to Rory’s, said they were all having a great time over there and really wanted to see me. I told her no and hung up. I unplugged my phone and threw away the cord.
After puking up the majority of the Vicks, there was another knock at the door. I didn’t answer but I stumbled over and looked through the peephole. It was Jackie, Elise, and Micah. I hadn’t seen Jackie or Micah in a month or so at least; they were old buddies from back in high school. I saw that Jackie had flowers in her hands. Quickly, I wrote a note on a scrap of paper I found on the coffee table.
Can’t come to the door right now. Leave the flowers here and I’ll get them later. Also tell everyone to stop calling. –Alan
I slipped it under the door and watched them pick it up, confused, watched them
turn it over to the back and back to the front several times, watched them re-read it and re-read it. Finally, I just got so frustrated, I opened the door, ready to shout at them to leave. Elise had the note in hand and held it up in a sort of shrug as if to say “what the hell?” I shrugged right back and slammed the door in their faces.
No one else came to the door that night.