When The Time Comes

Chapter 33; Ben

In the uber, it is quiet and I am somewhere entirely different than the roads we drive through. It feels strange, sitting behind the driver clicking gum between his teeth. I could be driving except I don't have a car anymore. I leave home early, before the sun settles in the sky because I am restless.

I barely slept. And what few hours I did manage to rest my eyes, I don't have much memory of anyway. I cleaned out my closet. Piled clothes into boxes and suitcases when I'd run out of boxes. Last night was tough. I cleaned the apartment. Watered the plant which ended up feeling like I was watering it for the last time. Everything I do lately feels like I'm doing it for the last time. Maybe because it is and I keep pretending the days aren't creeping closer and closer. I contemplated throwing the whole thing away. The planter. The boxes of clothes. But then the thought of, what if, wanders back in. What if I get to beat this thing? What if my letter was a mistake? What if...

I'm going back to Michael to surprise him with breakfast. Pancakes. If the hospital will allow them. I'm not sure if there's regulations on outside food. There shouldn't be but I can't be sure. The driver drops me off in the same parking area I'd just been not long ago. The gum clicks in his mouth as he asks me to give him a good rating.

"Have a good one," he spits before rolling up his window and leaving me alone.

I carry the box of iHop pancakes and syrup into the hospital, making my way to his room. The chill of the indoor air conditioning units sends a breeze up my arms. When I get there, I can't find Michael. There's another guy, mid-forties maybe, drinking a box of juice. That can't be right. I'm fairly certain this was his room.

I stop one of the employees in the corridor. A nurse, I presume.

"Hi, I'm looking for Michael, my brother. He was in this room last night," I say.

She follows my pointed finger and the careful creases between her eyebrows tell me something is wrong.

"The room was vacated early this morning."

"Wait," I stop her from leaving. "What does that mean?"

"The boy in that room was discharged, his parents got the clearance to leave."

She walks away hurriedly while I stand there in the corridor, a little disoriented for a moment. That can't be right. Michael was still being treated. Why would they take him out so quickly? None of this feels right to me. That's an awfully big coincidence to have him cleared right after I came to visit him.

I want to drive to the Douglas's but I'm running low on cash. The credit card company said they'll be mailing me a replacement card soon but I'm worried if soon will be enough for me. I call Mrs. Douglas. Maybe there's a reasonable explanation for why they completely blindsided me. Again.

The call goes to voicemail so I try her husband's number. After a long series of rings, he finally picks up.

"Hey Ben," he says, easily. It pisses me off because nobody told me Michael was going home. That I'm running out of money and my car's been stolen and I don't know if I'll be dying. Rather, how I'll be dying. And if I'll manage to get Michael the money in time or not because all my cards have been stolen.

I breathe through my nose, deeply.

"Hi, Mr. Douglas. You've taken Michael out of the hospital?"

I cut straight to the point. He clears his throat and for a second I think I can hear his wife in the background, muttering something.

"Ye-Yes Ben, we have. Michael is feeling quite better and the doctors have prescribed him everything he needs to make a speedy recovery," he replies.

"I would have appreciated it if you'd let me know before I came all the way out here. My car's been stolen and so-"