Mortis

7.

                  

If there was one thing I had learned after all these years of living with Julie, it was not to keep her out of the loop when all hell broke loose. The wrath and insanity of Julie's hysteria was far worse than anything you could ever imagine. One would think that not informing her would be the best call, but it is not. Julie will come in and clean up the mess, no matter the cost. Unfortunately, there is no price tag on a human life. I debated not telling her about John, but the smarter side of me screamed at me as if I was a child who knew better. In the end I contacted her. As expected, she took the first flight back to Loray and would be here tomorrow, waving her magical check-book.

            This waiting room had become a prison. It was a room I'd forever associate with pain and horror for the rest of my life. The white walls seemed to mock me, as if telling me I'd never walk out of here with my soul intact. I grew to loath the uncomfortable couches and lukewarm coffee. I felt like I'd never be able to pass through those doors that led me to the dilapidated body of my best friend. It was as if this place were keeping him hostage and keeping me from him. I knew this was just an irrational form of perceiving the situation around me to keep me from going numb. Feeling trapped and angry is better than feeling sadness. Or worse, to feel nothing at all.

            I looked up from my phone and sighed deeply. Vivianne had seen John for about an hour then came back to this wretched waiting room. She was in tears and a complete mess. It disturbed me on a whole other level to see John's mother this way. She has always been so strong, almost invincible in my eyes. She has played mom and dad for John since the day I met him, never shedding a tear in front of anyone. I always imagined her as this hardened southern bell, incapable of breaking down. Seeing her so pale and disheveled made me afraid in ways I never knew were possible.

            "How is he?" I asked feeling exhausted.

            She shrugged and ran a shaking hand through her wild hair, "They took him in for testin'."

            I sighed because I knew she had avoided my question. "Good," was all I could say to fill the air that was littered with unasked questions.

            "Hayden," she said, "somethin' is wrong."

            "Yeah, I think we all realized that, Viv."

            She shook her head slowly, as if in deep thought. "He wasn't himself, Hayden," she chuckled to herself, "aside from the obvious, of course."

            "What do you mean?"

            She sat back and placed her hand on her chin. "He's just not all there. He kept repeatin' himself, as if he couldn't remember what we were talking about."

            "He's probably still in shock, Viv. The doctor said he would be−"

            "No," she interrupted, "all he could ask me was if you were okay."

            I felt the hairs on my arms rise as if on command. "What? Why me?"

            Vivianne threw her hands up in submission and chuckled, "I kept telling him you were here, but he just didn't understand. Hayden, he was out of his mind, mumblin' nonsense."

            I swallowed hard and felt my chest tighten with dread. "He's going to be fine," I said softly.

            Vivianne turned to me, her eyes watering, "Before they took him...he told me to tell you somethin'."

                "And what was that?" I asked slightly interested.

            "He said: 'Tell Hayden she's goin' to be okay.'" She breathed in deeply and forced a weak smile, "Worryin' about you when he's the one in the hospital bed. I'm tellin' you, that boy is crazy about you."