The darkness subsides, and I finally come to my senses. When I open my eyes, it takes me a few minutes to realize I’m not lying in my bed. This room looks awfully white. And there are machines beeping next to me. My hand is stuck under someone’s head. What the heck?
I pull my hand and the head moves.
“John?!?!” I shout. He stares at me with sleepy eyes.
“Hey,” he says and smiles. “You’re awake.” He sits up and stretches his back. “I should call your nurse.”
“Hold on. What are you doing here? And what am I doing here?”
He rubs his eyes with his palms. The sheets left a mark on the skin of his cheek. I suppress a smile. With his disheveled hair and the shadow of a stubble on his face, he looks so precious. I almost want to snuzzle him and reassure him everything’s going to be alright. Yet, wait. I’m the one lying in a hospital bed.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” he answers.
“Well, where did you find me? And what happened exactly?” I ask.
He looks at me like a sorry puppy with droopy eyes.
“You were lying unconscious on your bathroom floor. I called several times to check on you, but you didn’t pick up, so I got worried and decided to come get you. I had to ask the doorman to unlock the door once I realized you wouldn’t answer. I screamed your name several times. It was quite a rough spectacle. I still feel shaken just thinking about it.”
I hold my breath. I don’t remember falling on my bathroom floor, or going to the bathroom for that matter. Did I experience a blackout? Shit. I never blackout.
John witnesses my change of facial expression, because he comes back to the bed and grabs my hand.
“You’re going to be fine, I promise.”
I scowl. “What do you know about me being fine?”
He gives me a long hard look, like he knows exactly what I’m going through. I shudder. Can the kid read inside my soul?
“I may be younger but I ain’t stupid,” he says. “You’re hurting. It’s obvious.”
I glance away. His stare makes me uncomfortable.
“How long was I asleep for?” I ask with a shaky voice.
“I found you yesterday at seven pm. It’s four thirty two days later. Do the math.”
I sigh. “I fucked up big time.”
“Yep, you did. But you’re okay now. Let me tell the nurse you’re back with us, okay?”
I nod. Tears well in my eyes and I’m speechless. Since when was John supposed to be my savior?
I hate this. All of this. None of it was supposed to happen. I liked to drink in my corner, one glass of scotch here and there, until everything just became a mess. I lost control over my life. I really did. What’s gonna happen to me now?
The nurse enters the room, and checks my vitals. I try to suppress tears, while John stares outside the window. This whole situation has turned into a freaking joke. I’m angry just thinking about it. Take me out of this place and give me my life back! What have I done to deserve this?
I don’t have a drinking problem. I’m fine. I’m sure anyone could see steam coming out of my ears and nose, I’m so pissed right now.
I frown at John as he looks back at me.
“What’s wrong,” he whispers.
I shake my head. Tears roll down my face. He moves closer to the bed, and pulls a paper tissue out of the box.
“Here,” he hands me the tissue, and I proceed to blow my nose. I apparently blow it so hard, he laughs. My grandma used to call me “der kleine Trompeter” in German, the little trumpetist. So yeah when I blow my nose, I don’t joke around.
Enough of it. This freaking sucks. John pats my shoulder and I swallow a few more tears. All I can feel is the darkness taking over my soul, becoming bigger than me, invading this room and the street outside, the whole wide world almost. I’m drowning. Nothing makes sense anymore. I lost a marriage. I lost love. Friends. Family. No one’s there for me.
I’m all alone.
As that realization sinks in, my crying unleashes to proportions I have never experienced before. And I can’t stop.
John does everything in his power to comfort me. I don’t hear his jokes. I don’t feel his calming touch. My heart is shattered in a million pieces and it hurts like hell. All I do is cry. My life has no purpose. I hate myself and I want to die.
If there’s a God, I’d need him to save me right now. Tell me what to do. I can’t continue on this destructive path any longer. It hurts too much. Way too much. I look at John, and squeeze his hand like I’m about to break his fingers. I read compassion in his eyes. And understanding. Like he knows everything that’s going through my head.
“You’ll be okay, I promise,” he whispers. I want to believe him so bad. Can I? Is it possible to be happy in this world?
To be continued…