How Can You Ease The Pain

It's All In The Delivery

2,508,800 seconds.

11,808 hours.

492 days.

That was what it took before Kris finally picked up the phone and called the facility where his best friend was housed. He'd blocked out everything that occurred almost two years prior, still not understanding nor really accepting what happened to him. He knew that his Editor had spent considerable amounts of his money to shelve the incident, no bad press came to Kris and it seemed the public was none the wiser. His public appearances were tentatively put on hold, his manager citing Kris's need for an extended break, after producing so many books in a short period of time. He hadn't done any book signings or readings, for the first time letting his previous books just ride the charts. He hadn't done an interview on screen since that "time." The book he'd finished prior to almost dying, had been released and of course, it was a hit, selling over a half a million copies. He was still in talks, or rather "emails" with Martin Scorsese regarding writing the script for his upcoming film. He had mentioned that he was absolutely honored to be working with Martin and still couldn't believe his luck. He hadn't told Martin what happened to him, not wanting to associate the good news he received with the chain of events that happened that evening. It was still something that troubled him.

He blamed himself.

How could he not?

He pondered many questions while he was in hospital and for the life of him, it truly escaped him that his best friend had more than "friendship" goals with him. She wanted something more than he could ever give her. He wondered if he misled her in anyway, it wasn't any scenario that he could decipher that would indicate that she got more from his place in her life, than that of a best friend. He never got drunk or anything like that, making passes at her or accidentally having sex with her. He never crossed that line. They never did any of those things! He reasoned perhaps, that he was just too dense, as his Editor put it, to notice anything else. He didn't see romance or love, not love like that, when he looked at her.

He just didn't.

"You've reached The Haven at Westchester. How may I direct your call?"

Kris was a little flustered, forgetting quickly what it was that he wanted to accomplish with this phone call.

"Uh, yeah, my name is Kris Wu and I need to speak with a Dr. Silverman please."

"Hold the line, one moment sir."

Kris was put on hold and some disastrous music played for a few seconds before the line was transferred and a raspy voice answered.

"This is Dr. Silverman. What can I do for you, Mr. Wu? I was expecting your call months ago."

Kris had been given the facility's information as he was the one paying the bill for her stay. Her family practically ran the other way, feeling disgust at what she'd done to Kris. Her mother was completely beside herself with grief as she couldn't face Kris, totally confused that Kris would offer to pay for such treatment. She had told Kris that he should never interact with "That girl" again. Her daughter was a disgrace to their family and if she never saw her daughter again, then it would be too soon. She was so embarrassed. What would she tell her friends? How could she ever be sociable again? Kris had his own qualms about everything but since he felt in some way that this was his fault, that it could've been prevented, he decided to pay for her treatment. It was necessary, he felt. She wasn't crazy. At least he didn't think so. Something in her just snapped. Unrequited love can do that, right?

"Ah yes, Dr. Silverman, I'm sorry for the delay in contacting you. You've been receiving payment, I'm sure and I thought it best for the moment that she not know of my involvement. Let me clear, she's not to know. I just want her to get better. Whatever you have to do, then please. I won't trouble you again."